Sisyphus

[faoro]

The Greek legend was relived on Sunday in Ojai. Seven paragliders and a driver headed up to Chief Peak at 10:30. The inversion was supposed to sit at 4,000 feet, with a good lapse rate from 6-9K. I dressed for 9K; should have worn swimwear. First off at noon, I burned out every small bump until I had bounced all the way down to Twin Peaks and even below it. But I latched onto that little nipple of rock like a newborn welcoming momma. Round and round I went, confined in a 50-foot-high prison for half an hour. No problem - it was a gorgeous fall day and I was left alone with my thoughts and tenacity to grapple with. No one else launched for quite some time.

Then the Sisyphean task developed: Crawl and scratch and curse my way up the hill - one or two bumps at a time - only to end up back at the bottom of the ridge: Twin Peaks. This went on for an hour. Meanwhile, my friends launched and I had to watch them get up on the high points and fly off. Andy went eastbound; Art, Robb, OJ, and Dean got very respectable altitudes and went west. Chip came down and joined me in the dungeon. That's the kind of friend he is.

After two hours, I had reached launch altitude; it felt like I had pushed my wing all that way up the ridge through the brush. With my 4,850 feet, I coasted over to the Three Stooges and floundered there for awhile before pushing on to Bruce's Point with 3.7K. Bruce's was the only place really working for me all day. It had failed for everyone else - go figure. I finally left Nordhoff Ridge with 3,850 and came down on the football field and to an empty parking lot at two and three-quarters hours after launching.

All that biceps work; at least my arms look like Popeye's this morning.