I arrived at FPN ~1530 with low expectations and found conditions that dashed even those modest hopes. I saw the wind sock dancing so wildly that I doubted even the wisdom of a kiting-only outing with my smaller wing. I imagined going home dissatisfied and grumpy but Ariel showed up and had the idea of loaning me his 18m wing which I could safely handle despite strong and wacky winds. Instead of the trip being a waste I logged a couple of highly productive hours of combat kiting.

Something is starting to click in my brain that reminds me of early days learning to rock climb. At the outset of climbing all your moves are slow reaches wherein you maintain static equilibrium. Eventually, however, you start to “dyno” moves where you are launching to the next hold on a leap of faith in which your hands and/or feet momentarily lack purchase but, with luck, land on the next set of holds before you fall. Having your hands dance between the various lines of a paraglider in the fight to keep it aloft feels reminiscent of that.