Well, my first proper cross country flight in almost 3 years!
This flight is part of a closing chapter on a journey of fear injury recovery, which began in late 2019 following a reserve ride from base.
Immediately following that, covid lockdowns allowed my most recent and significant paragliding memory to be one of a near miss that could have ended very badly. Had covid had not hit, I have no doubt that I would have brushed it off as a bad day, but it did, and I couldn't.
Anyway, the forecast was mixed, with winds a bit light for open distance, but a bit strong for a tri. My mates had lofty plans, but I only had until 4pm to fly, expected at a bbq at 5. They all climbed out ahead of me, and for the first time in at least 3 years, I felt a genuine jealousy as they caught successive climbs and began their adventures. Eventually my turn came, though by that point I was going to be flying alone. The first climb was nice. I'd climbed out of golden ball so many times that I was used to the view, and I felt at ease over the Pewsey downs.
The first glide brought on some second thoughts of doubt. The ever-present worry of a single bubble of sharp air causing a collapse at height, my biggest fear, was there. But I remembered just how well loaded and safe my wing was, pushed about half bar, and continued.
A few climbs later, I was working my way around airspace and feeling good. For the first time in a while, the ground started getting close, and I started feeling worse. For almost 3 years now, earth's embrace had been welcoming, but now it was a reminder that the fuel tank was running out, and I needed a climb. A ploughed field delivered, and I caught a boomer to base.
Today was a bit inversed in that the usual 'softer at base' rule didn't apply. The lift seem to concentrate and roughen at height. It took some mental resetting to not let this worry me, and I hooked a few more iffy climbs until the stroud valley came into view.
At that point, I was being swamped by the gliders out of Leckhampton. Mostly below me, like circling sharks, I reminded myself that my flarm was keeping me safe.
Wary of the time, I opened google maps and checked stroud train station times. Almost as if meant to be, one was leaving just 30 minutes from now. I took one last climb almost to base directly above Stroud, then put in nice docile spirals all the way down to a field near the train station.
A hugely confidence building moment was staying cool and collected even when fighting small bubbles of lift, into a small ish field in the middle of a built up area in a valley. I'm often told that my interpretation of risk is entirely inverse to how it should be, and choosing to land in the middle of a town in thermic air was a reminder of that.
Anyway, I landed with a smile. In a nutshell, I'd semi-enjoyed it. I'd be lying if I said it felt as good as it did 3 years ago, and I now think while my fear recovery journey is ending, my 'learning to love xc again' journey is just beginning. Life begins at +1ms.