A Season at the Point of the Mountain:  An ongoing chronicle of who we are

by Gerry Wingenbach

Wings Over Bear Lake and maybe more

It’s all right there on Wikipedia. The short course in paragliding. Go ahead, knock yourself out. (Some of it you can blame me for.)  Here’s something you’ll find if you scroll way down:  "Acro" – aero-acrobatic manoeuvres (Canadian spelling) and stunt flying; heart stopping tricks such as helicopters, wing-overs, synchro spirals, infinity tumbles, and so on.

Why is this way down on the screen? Well, the relationship of “acro” to regular old Point of the Mountain ridge soaring is roughly that of bull riding to dairy farming. And what’s meant by the “and so on?” Why even do acro? Here that well-worn response to why do any high-risk sport is as good as any  answer – if you have to ask why you probably won’t understand the answer.

So I asked Chris Santacroce, one of America’s masters of acro and the maestro behind the festival of way-out-there fun that we know as Wings Over Bear Lake www.wingsoverbearlake.com , which was held on the Utah-Idaho border in mid June. “To show what’s possible,” Chris said.

Nobody’s heart stopped during the three-day festival (at least not for long),  but the rest of it was all there at Bear Lake, plenty of GoPro moments  – helicopters, wing-overs, infinity tumbles (a probable American record here by Nova Dasalla – 15 in all – go ahead and count them http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nprhzzHYbIM ). You get the idea.

The weather was more like Seattle than Bear Lake, but when there’s a will there’s a way. Thirty flights soared towards the dark status clouds tethered over the lake. And Wings Over Bear Lake is very much a family affair. Was that four-year-old Zane Santacroce driving the tractor? And that nice 12-year-old, Illiah Pfau (“call me Cheese”) mastered driving the golf cart while repeatedly retrieving the tow rope from shore to pilot. No Starbucks here – just water and sky and beach and laughter and families. America the Beautiful.

Ground Zero at Bear Lake is the extraordinary-in-a-down-home-way Blue Water Resort, which is owned and run by a paragliding family headed by Ray Elliott. You can’t help but like this guy. There’s nothing he can’t do or fix. And talk about a gracious host and good company. Men like this in the rawness of nature are a luxury.

But it was Club member Chris Hunlow who impressed me at Bear Lake. He did his first double tumble into a stall and he looked both highly concentrated and more than a little nervous before his tows over the water. Those little midges that feed on sweat surrounded him in the cool air. He was so entirely there. Watching him, you got the feeling it’s far better to dare mighty things, to triumph or even fail, than to rank with those who neither enjoy much or suffer much and know not victory nor defeat.

“Alright,” Chris Hunlow said, after landing. “My first tumble.”

You know what they say, you never forget your first time. He had the flight he wanted to have, which was no small gift for the rest of us.

That was part of the magic of Bear Lake. Pilots visited and tested parts of their psyche that most of us do not even know for sure we have, manifesting in concrete form virtues like courage, persistence in the face of fear and performance under pressure. In a way, too, it was like when you bench up at the Point and you feel a part of something very great and very beautiful.

Wings Over Bear Lake was a festival of pilots (there was even an airplane standing by loaded with sky divers) enjoying the camaraderie of our sport. And for many, it also was deeply personal, flushing out all that they can be. Reinforcing the truth that when the last bridge is down and there’s nowhere to go but on, that’s when a person’s will and skill set in forces of strength you didn’t even know you had.

We are all greater than we know. Long live Wings Over Bear Lake.

A Season at the Point of the Mountain:  An ongoing chronicle of who we are

by Gerry Wingenbach

2010 AAA Sprints – It’s all about fun.

When it comes to hang gliding, there is extraordinary talent and degrees of it. Colorado-based hang glider Jeff O’Brien soars in the sheer talent category. His flights are beautiful and echoing. Ranked as one of the best in the world, Jeff’s got the wind on a string with touch and subtlety. Genius is not replicable. Inspiration, though, is contagious.

There were no losers over the Memorial Day weekend 2010 AAA Utah Hang Gliding and Paragliding Sprints, a race-to- goal competition with various waypoints that mimics the US nationals but is toned down for novice and intermediate pilots. Nonetheless, the trump cards are the same – Mother Nature and Father Time. Check out the results at http://www.systemicpartners.org/sprints/www/results.html . But it really was all about fun. No jonesing and head games, at least not until the final glide.

The everyone-wins aspect of the AAA Sprints includes informative workshops covering GPS navigation, race strategy, flying in gaggles and individual coaching. Meet organizer Mark Gaskill, national paragliding champion Bradley Gannuscio, USHPA rep Nick Greece and almost everybody else with insights helped out in the above groupings. Shadd Heaston, for example, started discussing GPS work with John Russell and soon had a gaggle of pilots under is wing and hungry to learn. Like Yogi Berra said:  If you don’t know where you’re going you might end up at the wrong place.

How were the conditions? The Point was not at its best. To the Inuit people in Canada’s high arctic, the word for weather and consciousness is the same; for us pilots, wind and consciousness are the same.  But only a fool would let the weather ruin a long weekend. Friday the wind was as noisy as an ocean and it was pretty much a no-fly day for paragliders, like trying to whistle Mozart during a Metallica concert. Pilots sat on their kit bags at the edge of the ridge hoping to launch, eyeing the windsock with the avidity of a drunk watching a slow-moving barman pour a cocktail. Saturday was doable and Sunday shined, although mellow and cerebral instructor Chris Grantham called it “strong, chunky and way unstable.”

But we all should be tipping our wings for Mark Gaskill, who quarterbacks this event like the veteran he is.

Some of the highlights at the AAA Sprints Memorial Day weekend included:

The most beautiful and heart-rendering scene was the appearance of Dave Dixon, sparkling blue eyes and smiling, a Herculean-type guy, walking with the aid of crutches that also support a surgically doctored left wrist, the result of an April accident. (Power line or a stall? Dave opted for stall.) “Eight days in the hospital and then weeks in bed,” he said. “I just had to get out here.”

The successful test flight of the ABLE pilot program will go down in history, but that’s a story for Mark Gaskill to tell. Here’s a video of Bradley’s test launch http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_rmp34Dgj_8 .

Bradley also gave a terrific college-level course in flying during a 30-minute, off-the-cuff presentation. Here’s some of what he said: … don’t go out and get pinned in the wind … it’s just you and the wing and what you’re comfortable with up there … make sure your speed bar is connected, it’s as important as your helmet and reserve … if you can’t penetrate out front, don’t bench up, check penetration 3 or 4 times … don’t pull big ears if you’re being blown back – go for altitude … be careful doing 360s out front, a thermal doesn’t stay out front, it gets blown back…don’t use your speed bar when low to the ground or going down wind… better to have your wing in front of you than behind you … you need your head in a swivel the whole time your flying…in a thermal, everybody turns in the same direction, determined by the first one in, look above and below, below has the right-of-way….

Spending time on the ground with Jeff O’Brien is always a pleasure. Why do good hang glider pilots make for such great people? Also informative was a conversation with Ryan Voight, a tireless crusader for safe landing zones for hang gliders. And that means safety for all of us. “Hang gliders go up and down in the air quite well,” he said, “but not side-to-side. Paragliders are the opposite.” Thanks, Ryan. That’s something we all need to remember.

Meeting Trese, Steve Mayer’s fiancé. Go ahead, read that again – it’s not a misprint. The Club’s most eligible bachelor has caught a sweet thermal. Congratulations, Steve.  Good luck, Trese! (Trese, he’s a great dad. And that’s probably the best thing you can say about any man.)

On Sunday, there were seven people in wheelchairs at the Point. Anybody ever seen a wheelchair at the Point before? We’ve come a long way, baby.

The company of Nick Greece is always pleasant. A skilled pilot, who along with Bradley test-piloted ABLE’s Phoenix One, put on a bit of an acro show with it, much to the delight of the U of U engineering professor and students who built the rig. Nick’s feedback has sent them back to the drawing board for some minor modifications. All the instruments are there, but it doesn’t sound like an orchestra yet.

President Ty McCartney worked the barbecue. Webmaster Todd Nelson (a SLC fire fighter) worked Ty, the crowd and the barbecue.  Thanks, guys. The burgers and dogs were perfect.

“That’s a cute baby” is probably life’s oldest cliché. But that little two-month-old Bella Brim really is a marvel. They just don’t come any more angelic.

Watching the too-cool-by-half pilots, the ones with the high-end wings and brew-pub brew, who consider the Club uncool, not worthy of dues, hung on the sidelines because you had to prove Club insurance to fly the AAA. You guys are all thunder and no lightening. Com’on boys, ask your mama for the 50 bucks. You’ve eaten that much in Club pizza over the years. Be stronger, better, more courageous, kinder. Shawna doesn’t want to be out there chasing you down; you know how to find her. Clubs like ours are what separate people from roaches.

Myron Cook and his never-ending stream of wisdom (enthusiasm can get you through anything is what he said before launching in the AAA). If you don’t know this guy, get to know him. He’s a parable on free will.

A little acro from Mike Steen left us breathless on the ground. Like I said, genius is not replicable; inspiration is contagious.

And there was so much more, but you must be getting bored of my dribble by now. But back at you soon. Your submissions are always welcome.

Endnote:  Club members, please indulge me – I have a story that needs telling. Last Sept-Oct-Nov, I got to know a daring young Swiss aircraft pilot named Bullet, who volunteered for the International Red Cross  flying medical supplies, Doctors Without Borders and much-needed food through the worst of the war-torn and drought-ridden regions of Chad, Sudan and western Kenya. I once saw Bullet quell a riot of thousands of refugees ready to storm a lightly guarded convoy of UN food trucks. He did it by putting on an airshow – buzzing the crowd, corkscrew turns, loop-the-loop and his signature move; a full stall, tumbling to the ground and then pulling up. Gradually the riot turned into a crowd, then mere spectators, and an orderly distribution of food began.

Bullet crashed and died on Memorial Day weekend while heading back to IRC headquarters in western Kenya after delivering supplies to a way-out-there clinic on the Sudan border. The impossible-to-anybody-but-Bullet LZ was a little more than a half fuel tank out from his departure point and there was a head wind going home. Bullet always pushed the envelope. He was one of the most humanitarian people in Africa’s sea of humanitarians. He was on radio during his final glide, apologizing for the IRC’s much-needed aircraft.

I was in the cockpit of a Twin Otter with Bullet one day. He was making a delivery of medicine and water filters. He asked me to hold the stick and keep my head up while he went in the rear to pee in a jar he kept for that purpose.

“No problem,” I joked. “I’m a licensed, novice paraglider pilot.” 

Two minutes later he strapped himself back into the pilot’s seat, pressed against the dried-out duct tape that held his door and side window in place, used his fist to give CPR to the instrument panel and then looked at me and said:  Were you kidding?  Have you really hung under one of those shower curtains in the sky? You guys are crazy!

A Season at the Point:  An ongoing chronicle of who we are

by Gerry Wingenbach

Almost anyone who loves paragliding and flies at the Point of the Mountain has, over the last few years, had what might be termed a Kevin Hintze Moment.  There are times, as you watch him play in the air, when your jaw drops and eyes protrude and sounds are made that make your dog stop chasing the tennis ball and check if you’re OK. The Moments are more intense if you’ve flown enough to understand the impossibility of what you just saw him do. We’ve all got our examples. Here is one from a recent Saturday afternoon:  The hang gliders are setting up and paraglider pilots are rolling into the parking lot. The wind is cross and gusting. Hope is that it will settle down into a perfect north side night. But for now, this is the sort of air that Kevin dines out on. It offers playtime before he gets to work as the USHPA “Instructor of the Year.”

Kevin launches and soars like a ship wobbling in a storm. The wind like a blind date gone bad. Kevin is going for the moment, and you better believe there is a moment. A bit of ridge lift here, some thermal action there, a mix of here we go again and never seen this before. Within five minutes he’s impossibly high over Steep Mountain. But not parked. Time is elastic up there and Kevin jostles into a series of wing-overs as seamlessly as a poetic turn of thought. He’s cascading his way down as quickly and gracefully as a waterfall and lands as delicately as a leaf to the spot in the grass where it all began. Nobody else has dared to launch.

That’s one example of a Kevin Hintze Moment. But the truth is that seeing it in words is to seeing it in reality is pretty much as reading about love is to the heartfelt reality of love.  Beauty is not the goal of paragliding, but high-level flying is a prime venue for the expression of human beauty and spirit. The relationship is roughly that of courage to war.

There are all kinds of pilots out at the Point of the Mountain. One size does not fit all. Wings leap from the ridge like Alaska salmon.

There’s Chris Santacroce, who in one way or another, directly or indirectly through an instructor he has tutored (and Chris has trained most all of them), has tried to teach us everything he knows about flying. And who knows more than Chris? When he talks to you, he’s thinking of you. Always giving sound advice.  Maybe just a few wise words, but they follow you around the sky forever.

There’s Shawna Pendleton, hiking up Steep Mountain as though the rig on her back was a bag filled with helium balloons, and then taking her glamour to the air. Her evident overall decency, thoughtfulness, honest bookkeeping and solid communications keeping the official aspects of the Club together. An unconsciously displayed C.V. of her talents.

There’s Justin and Becky Brim, the couple of the year, two that are now three, taking shifts while one flies and one pushes the baby-Bella stroller. Even with child, the rush of flight still thrilling to the bone. There is no happiness like that of a young couple with child in a place of beauty while the wind sings and they can fly.

There’s Mike Steen, amping up the game with nerves of steel, like something out of “Matrix,” one of the most daring human/gravity-powered pilots in the world, just back from a wing suit performance in some airshow a dozen time zones away, kindly giving sound advice to pilots with his aw-shucks, boy-next-door modesty.

There’s Shadd Cameron Heaston, back home at the Point after a 14-month sailing odyssey on the oceans of the world. Always enthusiastic and engaging.  A veteran commercial aircraft pilot to whom flight is like a second heartbeat. A man’s man who flies both hang gliders and paragliders with equal expertise.

There’s Bob King, kettle-bellied, warm-hearted and quick to laugh. Maybe he’s king of our mountain! The guy has a heart attack and within days he’s back flying in an alpenglow sky that is the color of cardiac muscle. Refusing to be tethered to a small rope.  Undefeated because he doesn’t quit. “A sweetheart of a guy,” Chris Santacroce says about him. “Really everything that keeps us in the sport.” May it be so.

And there are, too, the newbies, with orange streamers streaming from that harness of reality in the air, the wind a rough engine idling their wings. The failure of kiting left on the ground. The struggle all about continuing on. Learning that even the best pilot in the sky is not always right.

What happens at the Point doesn’t stay at the Point. It stays inside all of us.

So let’s keep it going. My goal this season is to learn every pilots name and share the dirt on them.  Back at you soon. Your submissions are welcome.