| Flight details: | The van's being mended, so I planned to get a train to Hungerford and then cadge a lift to Combe Gibbet, possibly from Dimitry. I had to change at Reading, so I grabbed a coffee, ran to platform 8a and leaped on to the train. It looked a bit big and modern and air-conditioned for the Hungerford service. �Cross-Country service to Bournemouth, next stop Basingstoke,� said the guard as we moved off. I texted Dimitry to tell him not to bother waiting if he was going to Liddington, and hopped on a train back to Reading, where very fortunately the next Hungerford train was late, so I was only an hour behind schedule, rather than two.
At Hungerford Maria, a newly qualified Austrian pilot, was waiting (imagine being from Austria and having to paraglide in England!). Just as we were about to ring for a taxi, Joe Crutchley rang to say he was on his way to get us -- a truly noble act, as the first gaggle left the hill while he was driving down. At the Gibbet it was still on, but good cycles were few and were not taking anyone enormously high, especially as the overcast crept in.
The wind picked up from time to time, surprising me by pinning me over the fence quite low. With hands right up I crept forward and touched down comfortably in front of the fence; keeping the wing over my head, I sensed a lull and decided to walk forward and launch again. The lull turned into a gust, I allowed my hands to creep down a little, and draped my wing over a large thorn bush.
The very kind pilot who helped me out (sorry, I've forgotten his name) pointed out that the bush's branches sloped towards the front of the hill, trained by the prevailing wind, so we pulled it off that way, fortunately without damage to the wing (although my arms and legs, as I climbed into the bush, were not so lucky).
I flew again, getting to 2300 feet but not quite high enough to go. The sun was coming and going, and the lift with it. Finally I found myself at 2600, well to the east of launch as well as b |
