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06.11.2018
Malibu Tour to Dune Du Pyla


https://www.facebook.com/leagull/posts/10212677388866040



Long break from flying on a hang glider brings especially sharp
and vivid sensations.


Technically, the body, of course, remembers how to control the wing. It took a
couple of minutes, though, to remember the ground control tricks in a strong and
gusty wind and that was it.


Even the glider did not seem heavy nor the harness tight and stiff, as it had
before on the first flights after shorter breaks. Perhaps it was because for
“returning to hang gliding” I deliberately chose dune gooning flying, in which I
personally experience the least amount of stress with a huge amount of joy.


Well, if you multiply the usual joy of flying a hundred times, then you will
maybe get closer to how deeply and profoundly, and almost to tears happy you’ll
feel when you have returned to the sky after a long break, when you fly again.


It is weird, of course, to write about “returning to the sky” for a person who,
over the past two years, has spent more time in the sky than ever before, but it
feels that way. It’s as if I had returned to my beloved dream, to my native
element, to the coolest VR, and I was absolutely not ready to leave this place.
I wanted to gasp in the air, the element, to get full of it, to feel the world
as if through the prism of a drug, to hear the echo of happiness within my whole
body.


Pity the feelings are not always so vivid when we fly. Why is it impossible to
consistently feel something this profoundly?


I remember one day at the Forbes competition. I think it was the tenth
consecutive day of continuous and very long flights. Moreover, since I was
always flying slow, it would take me about six hours each day to fly the task
which on average good pilots flew in four hours. Every day. The air temperature
in the shade was over 40 degrees C. My body felt completely worn out already
after five flying days, and only by an effort of will was I able to hook myself
into my hang glider. Okay, who cares about the body.


Moral fatigue was accumulating, making me feel that I don’t want it any longer.
To melt on the launch again, to be towed again acting automatically, to observe
the same landscape again, to thermal again, to turn, to turn, again, again, and
again. You remind yourself that you must appreciate every second of the flight,
that you came to Australia, very far away from your home, that you must use
every opportunity to fly, that it is winter in your own hemisphere. All the
pilots seemed to be reminding of the same themselves, and were refusing to have
a rest day, and flew, flew, flew.


On the tenth day, after around fifty kilometers of the task behind my back, I
spiraled down all the way from the cloudbase to the ground. I am very not proud
of it. I just wished it never happened. I wished I could always enjoy flying as
much as I sometimes do, as when I was flying this time at the Dune du Pyla.


Because of all the rain, we were able to fly only in the late afternoon. Because
of the rain, the Nikon was hidden far away in the car, so all the pictures are
so-so: snapshots from the gopro and from the phone. No smiles to the ears and
tears of joy are on the pictures. What you can see in the pictures is that the
wind was strong and it was easy to get really high along and across the whole
dune. By the way, the dune itself is three kilometers long, and the slopes and
dunes adjacent to it from the south stretch and stretch and stretch as far as we
had no time to fly even.


The benefit of the strong wind and rains was that there were no paragliders,
which, according to the locals, completely occupy the dune. So we were able to
do whatever we wanted.


I refused to believe that sunset came so quickly, and continued to fly after
sunset, then after dusk, and landed in the end in the dark. Night fury, - said
Andrey, illuminating the slope with a small flashlight.


It felt very sad to part with this feeling of flying. As with a dream that, you
know, exists in reality. Later, in the hotel, after a long day and long grueling
transports of the gliders and the harnesses back and forth, I looked at myself
in the mirror and saw a rejuvenated face. Here it is, a little secret of eternal
youth. Fly.


I won’t blog more about this journey, but if you want to read more about Dune du
Pyla, this is my very detailed story from 2014 about this place:
https://zhenya.blog/2014/…/malibu-tour-to-dune-du-pyla-2014/




https://OzReport.com/1541540329
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