SAFA Skysailor Magazine

19 July | August 2022 SKY SAILOR There was no time to be drowsy as we ate a big breakfast and discussed the meteorolog- ical merits of the day: It was going to be tall with the perfect ratio of cumulus clouds. By late morning we’d driven to our launch, not far from Wilcannia, and honed our route. As much as I like to think of myself as a true free spirit, I am in actuality a sheep. So when Phil and Anesh emphasised the need to fly within landing distance of a road and laid out a rough route, I nodded emphatically. What my sheep brain did not fully comprehend was the true risk if I was to land kilometres away from any road. Hindsight is a luxury, and now I know that should I have landed in a random dirt patch behind locked gates, I would have had to walk in 40-50ºC heat, in full sun, carry- ing all my gear. People die doing that; there was a reason the only animals we saw were goats and emus. I’ve heard XC flying described as a race against the day. But that day felt more like a personal challenge, as if the flatlands had tapped me on the shoulder, narrowed her eyes and said, ‘Show me what you’re made of.’ I was towed up first, and after scratching hard, I was back with my feet in the red dirt shaking my fists at all the cu’s now forming. The others launched and got away and I hastily followed. The mere act of towing up is scary, and by the time I was at cloudbase, getting kicked around by thermals, the adrenaline was pumping. As we headed south, jumping cloud streets to follow a road, I see-sawed between wanting to land, and finding myself low, desperately trying to get back up. Scratching has always been my favourite part of flying. The reward for concentration and luck is the opportunity to get back to base and kiss the clouds. Yet on this day, scratching felt like a