At takeoff the easterly is being held back by weak thermals. Cloud base is low, but the signs are looking good. Preparation time. Glider out, chocolate and drink into the harness pocket, check the cell phone and radio. Small clouds are starting to speckle the sky and its time to go.
I launch in nil wind, but 50m in front of takeoff find a nice thermal. I climb quickly to cloud base, but once there am struck with indecision. Do I push out to the south-west, under closely packed but fading cumulus clouds that lead straight to a cloud-street, or jump the larger gap to the north-west with its developing clouds. Belatedly I realise that I am out of the lift and no amount of hunting can change the downward glide. My cloud fades and I am left gliding northwards along the foothills, desperately looking for anything going up.
I’m so low now that I’m convinced that for me the day is over before it has begun. My last desperate efforts put me over a dry field bordering a stream. As my glide levels out I use every trick and skill that I’ve learned, but can barely maintain my height. The easterly wind has come through and now it pushes me toward the road. A slight gain in height, working hard, drifting. A mealie leaf marks a small thermal core and I claw upwards for a few more metres. I’ve drifted a couple of kilometres, still less than a hundred metres above the ground. Downwind of me are several sharp kopjes, but I need to hang in there for another seven or eight km’s. A cloud starts to form above me and slowly my thermal develops. Finally I’m climbing continuously.
I drop out of my saving thermal and push west. The Kopjes are within reach and the sky is developing again. Ten km’s from takeoff I find another reasonable thermal and start winding skywards. The view is superb! I don’t make base, inattention bringing on the depressing drone of my sink alarm. A large bare field bordered by a stream eases my frustrations and, despite arriving there low, I am soon settled into a relaxing left-hand climb. I chat with another paraglider pilot on the radio, then I’m close to cloud base and on full speed-bar. Wisps of cloud dance past me until the ground starts fading from view. I drop below base in a B-line stall and then back onto the speed-bar. It’s now a game of chasing the line of lift – trying to maintain a constant altitude about 300m below the cloud. As the lift eases I come off the speed-bar, edging closer under the dark bases. Increasing lift and the bar is full out as I wander towards the edges of my fluffy friends.
Scanning the dirt roads below, I haven’t seen a single vehicle since the village below takeoff. Below me now, the vast open highveld and a scattering of Africans villages. There are plenty of kopjes, each the perfect trigger, each baking in sun. Time now for some chocolate.
40km’s now and contact with other glider pilots is a distant memory. I’m climbing quietly, drifting slowly under the end of my cloud street. I have been heading steadily westward. The next street is well established, and starts about 2km’s west of my position. Between us lies a large bare rock. My climb rate slows to 0.2 m/s. The sun blazes down on the rock, the only area not in shadow. It’s tantalisingly close, and just has to be working.
Frustrated at my slow climb, I break the two most golden rules.
Never leave lift to look for lift. Have patience.
But it just has to work, so I turn onto glide…
NOTHING.
I look upwind and down.
NOTHING.
Berating myself for my stupidity, I really start hunting. Just downwind is a small bowl. 8–10km’s beyond the rock kopjes and msasa trees is the nearest deserted road. This bowl has to work. Please. It’s my only hope. It’s in the sun, but looking very green.
Flying over it I find a couple of bumps, I have to work hard, scrambling about in tight turns, I manage to hang inside the weak thermal. It’s tight, and my glider rocks and surges as I struggle upwards. This thermal is tiny. But it’s my salvation. As the thermal widens out I settle into a steady climb. Nicely slumped over in the harness, arms hanging in the brakes, relaxed. The view is superb. All the better for being above it now. An Augar Buzzard swings in, joining me for a few minutes. I celebrate the beauty with more chocolate.
Back at cloud base, reassessing my position. The cloud street is still well defined, but extending either side of it is layer cloud. There is a huge amount of shadow in all directions. My only option is to stay near base, utilising the cloud generated lift. I’m convinced that it will be all over if I get low again. Finally, after 3 1 hours flying, I spot my first vehicle. I’m no longer alone in the African wilderness.
Low again, after the distraction of dealing with this morning’s coke. The whole area is in shadow, but at 60km’s I’m not about to quit. Another kopje, just off to the side offers my last hope. Patience is rewarded as another slow thermal carries me gently upwards. Its my last climb of the day, but I manage to hang close to base for another 15km’s until a long glide sets me down beside a farm house.
Arriving overhead, I am about to land when a pickup appears around the corner. I touchdown and am immediately offered a ride to the nearest main road. Quickly packing my glider, having it thrown in the back with the dead cow and we are off. It takes me 4 hours of hitching and I’m back in Nyanga. The Zimbabwe open paragliding record now extended to 85km’s, but the real treasure is my memory of Zimbabwe’s natural beauty.