Winching across South Africa

We have absolutely last day, when we can try to fly. The weather forecest sounds optimistic and so we are preparing two alternative routes with the south west wind in the direction of the city Umtata. Surrounded with local people we are quickly preparing our paraglides, but we have trouble already with the start. Although the beautiful cumuluses in the sky march to Umtata, we have to winch in the opposite direction. We catched in the air with difficulties and only Víťa is able to break through the wind shear somewhere around 1 km above the ground. Turbulent thermal drift takes Vlasta back to the start. Where ever fly the planned hundred in this! An unexpected invasion of ground wind is getting stronger.

I am flying my last par in Africa and I am determined to fight for each meter. Even in an opposite wind I am going quite well, in the first lift I turn with Vlasta, in the next one with three huge vultures. They probably dont wan't up, they overtake me during I am photohraphing, but after I have put the camera into the case, I overtake them. They are just as curious as me and sometimes they fly pretty close to see the prey of the big red-white predator.

I am getting a high altitude and I am flying to the Indean Ocean at the speed of 70 km per hour. I am flying and I am losing the altitude. In 300 metres above the ground I am aleready staying on one place in a headwind. Therefore I head sideward for the pasture with no power lines. I am flying backward at the speed of 20 km per hour, I unclamp the harness, pull down the shoulder straps to the mind-arms and I prepare myself for a jump from the seat immediately after the first touch with the ground. However a massive frontstal collaps came at 10 metres above the ground and the creasy paraglide disappeared behind my head. I quickly dressed the straps back by the move of shoulders and I am waiting for a strong impact in the back. Forunately my protecter absorbed it. Subsequent dragging on the ground and sprained ankle are (against all what could happened) triviality.

Before I can write an SMS with the coordinates, local herdsmen and their grandchildren came to me. Twelve-hand (and eleven-leg as I am jumping just on one) we are packing the paraglide and even I am getting a bag carrier to 2 km far road.

It is unbelievable, nearby the road is a field tent of health services, which temporarily provide services to the territory covered by Zulu's villages during the holiday term. Black sanitarists are all the time lively dancing and don't stop even during treatment of Víťa's feet.

And this is the final point of our airy wandering through South Africa. From the place of our first start to the last it is directly beautiful 1000 km.