The Silent Treatment

THE 21ST century is beginning to provide us with new technologies already, technologies that just 10 years ago we could only have dreamed of. Mobile phones that can play youTube videos, handheld PDA's that are more useful than a paper & pen and cameras with millions of pixels the size of a matchbox. Ingenious, clever, technological things. Things that are totally useless in the grand scale of things, but none the less things that look really good in matte silver. That was until we recieved an anonymous magazine article about the things that are giving new life to the old flying lawnmowers.

Powered paragliders are going electric, we're told. Well, that's not a bad thing we thought, and after a quick show of hands in the Pie offices we concluded that maybe we'd have a go on one if they actually didn't make that racket. Obviously, we all agreed that we would never buy one, but we'd have a lash at it all the same. After further thought, we also realised that here at Pie, we might have to tone down the humour with respect to PPGs too, let's face it, if the bloody things hardly make a sound we can't really see a problem with them anymore. So we set off to find out how this technology was coming along, how they worked, when might they be available and whether we would have to change our editorial slant in the future.

We spent $9000 on flight tickets to visit the worlds biggest players in the PPG market and have a chat with the designers and developers. Unfortunately, 20 minutes into the first interview and we'd lost track of the theory they were explaining to us and had inadvertantly started asking about the colour schemes they were planning. We never quite understood what a direct drive was or why you needed to brush your engine, and clearly we'd been mistaken for years in our belief that Lithium was a ladies bath soap and that Poly Mer was a Disney cartoon character. Most importantly, though, we were disappointed to discover that they aren't silent, they still weigh a ton and it was nothing like the pocket-sized gadget we had been expecting. So we left. 5 minutes later we'd cancelled our other interviews as we'd completely gone off the whole stupid idea of PPG'ing. We had simply realised that we still didn't want to fly with all that crap on our back, whether it was powered by gas, electric, coal or nuclear reactor, although we did resolve to try again in 10 years when it all folds neatly into a container the size of a reserve compartment.

All was not lost as we had two things going for us, positive attitudes and a shit load of airline tickets in our pockets, so we re-routed our flights to get a weeks free-flying in Marshall where we had a great time with the locals and had some very relax thermic flying. We then headed down to some of the valleys on the Mexico border and posted some more superb distance flights. We then started our journey home, although not directly, as we organised a 2 day stop-over in Vegas where, sadly, we lost most of our cash. We also squeezed in a long weekend in Amsterdam, where the only electric powered gadgets we saw here seemed to be specifically designed to induce noises, and vibrations were deemed a bonus. We then rapidly lost the rest of our cash during a 36 hour visit to "Hansje's Pay for what you Smoke" coffee house.

Back home again with no money, but surrounded by open spaces and big hills, we concluded the only silent thing in our PPG flying would be the first P.

Pie in the Sky
Funnier than the 1494 "Leonardo da Vinci Training Hill" videos

Manilla 2007 Mini-Special

Editorial - edited

Pie in the Sky would like to offer our heartfelt congratulations to all "Worlds" competitors for displaying great skill and determination in what turned out to be a difficult competition. We would like to specifically congratulate the winners, Bruce Goldsmith, Petra Slivova and the rest of the Czech Team in your success. Well done. We would also like to take this opportunity to congratulate the competition organisers for organising what seems to have been a trouble free and generally safe competition and for keeping the rest of the world updated in a timely manner.

Well done, one and all, and thanks for showing us mortals how the top-dogs do it.

Editorial - less edited

Please note, however, that we will continue to take the piss out of any & all of you from here on in as, quite frankly, we've got nothing better to do. It is quite likely that particular attention will be paid to Bruce Goldmedal and Petra Slipup over the next few issues, so don't say we didn't warn you. After all, you're the best in the world and if you can handle those bloody prototype wings, this should be fucking childsplay.

Those shites over at XC-Rag have come in at the last minute and wrecked our book deal, by out-bidding us for Bruce's upcoming memoires, "The Fucking Long Glide to Goal". Just to set the record straight, we thought of it first and it would seem that it's only money these comp bastards are interested in, not like the good old days, eh, Bruce?

Anyway, no use crying over spilt milk, and we won't be holding a grudge, especially not against some glossy jazz mag. So, here's a couple of rib ticklers to tide you over till the end of the month.

(Chief Ed)

Doin' a Bruce

Looking for a way to accurately describe the last few days, we broke out the dictionary here in the Pie offices and dug up a few little known gems:

Bruce: noun	as in: "Hey, Bruce mate"
	(1) a popular christian name.
	(2) an anchor used by floating oil rigs.
	(3) King of Scotland from 1306 to 1329.
	(4) Australian physician and bacteriologist.
	(5) slang for "Fine German Precision", especially relating to automobiles.
	(6) the 2007 World Paragliding Champion.
Doing a Bruce:	as in: "Hey mate, look, I'm doin' a Bruce"
	(1) attaching an anchor to a floating oil rig.
	(2) kicking the crap out of the English at Bannockburn.
	(3) dreaming up some new cretinous device for lazy BMW drivers.
	(4) whippin' 150 other competitors, half of which are 20 years younger than you.
	(5) flippin' a finger at a nation through the gratuitous use of a christian name.
	(6) winning the 10th FAI Paragliding World Championships.
To Bruce up:	as in: "I'm going to Bruce up, mate"
	(1) to give the kitchen a quick tidy.
	(2) to enhance the performance of a lawnmower.
	(3) to sharpen your Swiss Army Knife.
	(4) to compete in a free-flying competition while flying a wing you designed yourself and proceed to beat the competition while flying it.
Brucin' it up:	as in: "Stand back mate, I'm Brucin' it up"
	(1) to have a good time.
	(2) an Australian outdoor party.
	(3) to go to a party wishing you were back home waiting for the cuckoo clock to wake you up.
	(4) to dance and sing the night away, when normally you would be tucked up in bed with a cup of cocoa.
To be Bruced:	as in: "Christ mate, I've been Bruced"
	(1) to slip unexpectedly.
	(2) to trip in an awkward manner.
	(3) to lose your Swiss Bank Account number.
	(4) to compete in a free-flying competition and to mess up the first task enough to allow a chick and an old guy flying a wing he knocked up himself to get ahead of you, eventually win the competition and leave you feeling like you missed your opportunity.
Brucin' on:	as in: "Yeah mate, he just Brucin' on"
	(1) to be consistant.
	(2) to soldier on relentlessly.
	(3) to not fuck it up on the first task.
	(4) to demonstrate consistantly good piloting skills while enduring difficult conditions over a period of 13 days, and having over 20 years of piloting experience to draw upon when facing those challenges.

Brucin' it up

There once was a man from Greolieres,

Who went to the comp without cares,

Although getting old,

He came home with the gold,

And the rest were left looking like spares.

There once was girl call Petra,

Who didn't have that little bit extra,

All they could see was her crack,

As she was leading the pack,

So they resorted to cutting her Spectra.

There once was a man without fears,

Who was older than most in his years,

The Swiss had to ask,

About the first task,

As he left poor old Maurer in tears.

Ba-boom.

Pie in the Sky
So funny you'll forget your legstraps

Straight Up

ONE OF the more recent additions to the SkyTalk range of paragliders seems to have got the industry talking again this month. As you may, or may not, have noticed their recent addition has had its third size pass DVH certification and this seems to be causing some concern among the responsible manufacturers.

"Normally we look forward to friendly competition from WhyWalk, it's healthy and good for the customers", said arch-rival Chris Ruining, MD of Occasionally-UP International, "But its just gone too far now, somebody has to tell them to stop or someone's going to get hurt."

"Three years ago when FlyWalk introduced the "Tequilla" the industry reacted with a wry smile", he told us in perfect english, "We all related their wing to fun, let's face it, this is a drink that most people regard as something to start a party with. You know, when you're on holiday and you want a good night out, what do you order? So naturally, we all thought cool name for a DHV1-2, and harmless fun with the name. Besides, our Sometimes-UP team pilots have a tequilla or two before they set off testing the protos, it helps them relax. Well, all except Ollie obviously, he's a Margarita man".

Err...

"Then two years ago when they introduced their "Joint" it has to be said, there were a few raised eyebrows", he continued, clearly enjoying speaking openly, "It was a good joke really, although we're Germans we can enjoy a relaxing "smoke" as much as the next man. Maybe not quite as well as the Spanish, but we can enjoy ourselves too. Anyway, it was fine, no-one took it too seriously, and to be honest, I've always been of the opinion there's nothing wrong with a quick "spliff" before you take fare paying passengers to the skies".

Well...

"But they've just gone too far with this one", he continued, "It's a PPG wing for god's sake, haven't they heard about safety? I mean "Scotch" what kind of name is that for a motorised wing? It's tantamount to inviting people to drink and drive. It's got to stop, it's downright dangerous. Some innnocent bystander will get hurt soon, and 200m further down the beach they'll find a pissed pilot lying on the beach with half a bottle of Johnnie Walker Red Label in his hands and a 4-foot propeller up his ass. It's just gone too far, in fact, here at Fucked-UP we've been wondering if someone over there has a drugs problem, you know?"

Thanks Chris, but maybe we'll leave the investigation of this one to XC-Rag.

Pie in the Sky
Funnier than the 1947 "Chuck Yeager Speed Camera" photos

Identity Crisis

IT HAS come to the attention of the ever-so-keen ferrets at Pie that there is an apparent identity crisis looming in the antipodes. You might ask, how we found out? You might ask, where are the antipodes? You might even ask, what's an identity crisis? Well, read on.

How did we stumble on this? Obviously, as a world class free-flight magazine, Pie had a journalist down-under providing hi-tech coverage of the 2007 Worlds for our readers. We have been providing by-the-minute texts, blogged podcasts, podcasted blogs, 24x7 webcast video feeds, hourly spam-free email and GPRS video downloads for those readers on the move. During our many interviews, however, we began to detect subtle changes in some of our southern friends, things we'd never noticed before. They seemed less sure of themselves, less confident and more worried. And thinner.

Unfortunately, due to unforseen technical problems, Pie journalist Sven "Fumbler" Fredrikson was unable to continue his Worlds coverage, so we reassigned him to chasing up this, shall we say, more social story. Armed with only his broken mobile phone, a notepad and a pencil, he invited himself along to one of the weekly clinics held by the Australian Nation Association of Lazy Bastards.

After the meeting we had a quiet word with one of the participants, Josh McGoolie of Cairns, "Men are finding it difficult to be men these days", he said, "You know, it's just not like it used to be. In times gone by I used to be able to tell the cook to follow me in the Ute with a crate o' cold stubbies on the flatbed. Those were good days, let me tell you. Have you any idea how bloody marvelous it is to be dozing in the back with the dogs and a cold beer on the treck back home after a 200k epic. But these days mate, oh, sorry...". He had to stop, this was clearly an emotional moment for Josh, "Christ, I... I can't bring myself to say it. These days, I have to walk out."

He went on (and on) "It's just not right, I'm lost at sea mate. I don't know if I can carry on, I just hope these ANAL-Bastard Meetings can help me. I reckon it's all this bloody independant thinking, you know. I'm serious like, I've no bleedin idea if I can keep flyin. Have you ever been 100k into tiger country without your wife to bale you out? It's fuckin dangerous mate."

Now when you combine Oz and PG there's still only one name that springs to mind. That's right, Godless Windfree, the Ozzie cross-country hound, and rained-out competition organiser. So our intrepid reporter headed back to Vanilla, where Godless managed to spare us 10 seconds for an interview.

"Just fix the fuckin software", he shouted over our shoulder, "The Brits have got me by the nuts, the bloody Italians are all over us like flies on shit and the Swiss aren't speaking to anyone anymore. And no, do I look like I need to talk to a fuckin steward? Just tell 'em we've hardly started yet, and not to worry. If they insist, tell them that sending another one over is just going to make it worse. Oh, and tell Justin I like the Red one. Find Jeremy, and tell him Yes, but tell him not to say anything until tuesday. Oh, and if you see Peter, tell him the toilets are fine now, and send him some flowers or something".

"Sorry, old chap, where were we?", he continued, "Oh yes, equality. Good lord, I don't know what all the fuss is about, anyone with a half decent education treats a woman in a polite and respectful manner. To be honest, you know, girls take up an awful lot of time anyway and I have found they interfere with my training. Besides, old chap, I'm a comp pilot and we organise retrieves as a team before we arrive. Sorry got to dash."

Right. It looks like the whole country has gone to the dogs, even the weather.

Pie in the Sky
Funnier than the 1947 "Chuck Yeager Speed Camera" photos

Southern Dangers

AS WINTER took hold here in Europe, Team Pie bottled it and decided to go on holiday, and as the season is in full swing south of the equator what better place than South Africa. We'd heard there are records just waiting to be broken this year in the RSA, so we thought we'd go in search of some new personal bests. We booked our SAA flights to Cape Town and headed north in search of some Karoo XC's. Before we left home we had contacted some of the SA pilots and listened carefully to their solid advice & guidance, so we were ready, we were willing and, by god, we were up for it. So off we went, happy as pigs to the slaughterhouse, thinking we were off on a PG holiday to somewhere like Oz, but with maybe a bit more sand and a bit less vegetation.

Things went really well for our first week, great weather, great flying and stunning scenery. We really couldn't have asked for more. Pie's Icelandic reporter H.Jálmar Sveinsson upped his personal best in the first 3 days, and was clearly chuffed, "Getting to base was easy", he said with an ear to ear smile, "Nothing like back home, you know, and once I was there all I had to do was straight-line it. I chose West. 12K, I still can't believe it. It looks like I'm playing with the big boys now."

All went well and we were having the time of our lives, that is, until the start of the fateful 3rd week. Perhaps we had become a bit too cavalier or perhaps we had become less aware of our surroundings, and as most pilots will tell you, that's when mistakes happen. Pie's Amsterdam based journalist Tina McVee was the first to run into trouble, and we were keen to get her initial reactions on tape. "I'm not coming here again, it's fucking dangerous", she said, and with that, she left. That was the last we heard from Tina until we got back home and found her letter of resignation. What had happened to Tina? We didn't know it but slowly, one by one, we were about to find out.

The very next day "Dinger" Bell, our print editor, ran into a few problems. "They nearly got me, you know. Even now I don't know how it started", he said, "One minute I'm cruising the flatlands at 5000ft AGL and simply marvelling at the view, and the next minute I'm coming down at -15m/s straight towards them. I'm still shaking, look." He then proceeded to lock himself in his hotel room and from there on in, he watched satellite TV with the blinds down.

The following day myself & our tea girl Sheena decided to fly the tandem as strong conditions had been forecast and with those long waits for the retrieves, the tandem seemed like the ideal vehicle. After a couple of hours we were passing the 70k mark but the day was overdeveloping and it really was time to get our feet on the ground and put that waiting to good use. Down to 2,000ft and we began to realise this might be an eventful landing.

Sheena went on record later that day and summed it up well, "I don't know how we found it, I mean, it's not instinctive to want to land in one. Normally it's my worst nightmare, but to tell you the truth I've never been so pleased to see an Acacia Tree in my life. What's more, we were bloody lucky to find it, it was the only tree in the whole bloody savannah. Once we hit it, we simply hung on for our lives. After a few minutes we both unclipped and sat on one of the big branches and smoked a cigarette or two while desperately shouting over the radio. Throughout all of this those big yellow bastards were jumping halfway up the tree trying to get us, the wing was pretty much eaten, you know. Shit, if I want to see wildlife like that again, I'm going to the zoo."

When all the dust had settled, we finally understood the advice "avoid the big five", we had all wondered why 5-up was considered a bad thing in Africa.

Pie in the Sky
Funnier than the 1947 "Chuck Yeager Speed Camera" photos

Advertising Scruples

WE RECEIVED an anonymous advertisement, apparently clipped from the pages of last weeks Flying Times and it clearly shows there are some pretty low-minded pilots out there. We've scanned the ad and included it here, so you can fully appreciate the depths to which some will stoop to gain even a fraction of a point in L/D. Please take a couple of seconds to read it, if you haven't already seen it.

"Ah would do it wizout hesitation, englishman", said Patrick "DeHair" Berow, French superstar & Ginger Team member in slightly accented english, "I would 'ave no problems sellin any of my relatives for an improved glyde to gol, wouldn't you do zee zame? Have you no idea how early you could leave zee thermals you fool? Just imagine bein able to go 50m before zee rest of zee peloton. Zeriously, englishman, what can you do wizz your aging granny anyway? It's not like she can drive zee retrieve anymore, grandparents are well past all zat sort of thing. Putain de merde! What iz all zee fuss is about?"

This brief interview with a top pilot shocked us quite frankly, we thought we had stumbled upon something in very bad taste, something immoral, but clearly others were thinking this was the norm. We started wondering if maybe we were being a little over-sensative, maybe we were too conservative, maybe we needed another interview.

Who better to talk to than the guys accepting these ads, the other publishing pro's, people who handle ads every day. The pimps. So we got Joe Slowfield, editor of "SkyDings" the BHAP monthly magazine, on the horn and asked him a few direct questions. He told us, "The bit I don't really get, is who wants an old grandmother? I'm missing the scam on this one". He continued, "Read it back to me again, will you. Mmmm, it does seem a little bit direct, but hell if their paying cash who cares?"

"This ain't scuba diving we're playing with here, son", he continued, "It's not like we've got half a million punters in every country round the world just waiting to sign up, try the sport and then buy the magazines for the next 10 years, you know. This is paragliding, me old mucker, and there aren't many of us about. If someone mails in an ad with a cheque, phones in with their credit card number or even drops in the office with some hard cash, we'll print it. Don't you boys at Pie do the same? How do you cover your costs? How do you pay your staff?

Back at the office feeling alone in a world of commercialism, surrounded by sharks and profiteers, we opened the dictionary at a random page looking for hope in a grey world...

Scruples (noun): a unit of weight equal to about 1.3 grams

We guessed that anything weighing less than 2 grams must be pretty small and easy to lose. That won't happen to us, we said confidently. Here at Pie our readers are safe, we keep ours safe in our trouser pockets. Errrr....

Pie in the Sky
Funnier than the 1947 "Chuck Yeager Speed Camera" photos

Dear Ewa

Dear Ewa,

It was with great surprise that we, the worlds paraglider pilots, opened our bedroom curtains on Wednesday morning and discovered paragliding on our TV News and in our morning newspapers. We would like to take this opportunity to say thank you as we feel there is no such thing as bad publicity. Bad piloting exists for sure, but bad publicity definitely not. Consequently, we would like to congratulate you on raising our worldwide profile.

As paraglider pilots, we all have to answer unusual questions from friends, family, co-workers and the public in general, it goes with the territory. Invariably, it is the same questions we are answering time and time again and although most of us find it repetative, we are all happy to do so in order that we may spread the popularity of our beloved sport.

It is with this in mind that we, the Global Association of Free Flight (Europe), would like to ask you to reply to this letter and enclose full and complete replies to the following questions.

Does it get cold in thunderstorms?

How do you get down from 30,000ft to go to the toilet?

How do you avoid the 747's at 50,000ft?

Can you see God from up there?

How do you fly a para-hang-chute while unconscious?

Is the sky really blue?

Please be as specific as you can in your reply as it will help us educate the non-flying public in a coherent & thorough manner.

Some of our membership have also pressed upon me to ensure you get a copy of our club handbook and ask that you read section 27, so please find enclosed a copy for you to read at your leasure. We are happy to waive the usual €25 fee. I have also been asked to point out to you the pictures on page 182, especially the captions under the darker images at the top of the page.

Once again we would like to take this opportunity to thank you for generating so much interest in our sport, and we eagerly await your reply.

Warmest regards,

Giles Strawberry,

GAFF(E) Chairman

Pie in the Sky
Funnier than the 1947 "Chuck Yeager Speed Camera" photos