SAFA Skysailor Magazine

6 SKY SAILOR July | August 2020 I write for two reasons. First, because this particular paragliding flight remains one of those experiences that is deeply imprinted in my memory. It is pleasurable to recall what happened. Second, by telling our stories we add to our collective knowledge about sharing the sky with these magnificent birds. I was not expecting much of the day. It was early January and the mainland was aflame. Smoke was spreading across Bass Strait. In northern Tasmania there was a strong inversion, thick haze up to 1000ft. Visibility was less than 10km. I set out early on a hike and fly mission. Given the strong inversion, I thought thermals would be suppressed. I imagined it would be a short top to bottom sled ride. Besides, although I am an avid hike and fly pilot, I am still unravelling the mysteries of cross-country flying. I often struggle to stay in lift. On the positive side, I hoped that the inver- sion might dampen the winds on top, which were forecast to be close to my limit of what was flyable. As it turned out, launch was perfect. A light breeze was cycling up the face and above the inversion the air was clear and smoke free. Slowly I unpacked my kit. My heart rate was elevated after a stiff climb through the myrtle and fagus forest, boulder fields, and mountain heath. Catching my breath, I sat back to enjoy the moment. Hike and fly trips are magic, even if they end with a walk back down. As I was observing the conditions, wondering if I would get off, a Wedge Tailed Eagle rode the thermals up to launch. The eagle flew above me, perhaps less than thirty meters away, head turned towards me, silent and curious. Our eyes locked for a moment and I stopped breathing. There is something so precious about these kinds of encounters. But the moment did not last. A pesky Currawong, with the raspy vomit-like call that the Tasmanian species have, hurtles towards the wedgie, chasing it away, like a petulant teenager. At the time I didn’t think much more of this avian encounter and began to set up. It was on. It’s a tricky launch but I got off straight away, all my lines intact. I made a few passes along the escarpment in light ridge lift, admiring the folds of the terrain, one mountain after another. Then I headed off to try to sniff out lift where the cleared fields met the edge of the eucalypt forest. A good friend had scored a cracker of a flight a few weeks previously and I was hoping for something similar. I arrived about 1200ft above where I thought there might be lift. The vario responded encourag- ingly. Slow beeps steadily increased. But there wasn’t much in it. For perhaps ten minutes I circled in light choppy lift, zeros with the occasional broken climb of one metre a second. Then I saw it. I knew what it was in an instant. Black dot against a hazy sky. Wings tucked in, moving fast. A feathered dart. Tales from a thousand pilots flashed through my mind. Gliders slashed to ribbons. I imagined talons dragged across the plastic bag above, me exposed below, hanging by dental floss. Instinctively I felt for the handle of my reserve parachute. My stomach tightened. A brief moment with a master In the May/June 2020 edition of SkySailor, Todd Dennis wrote a sublime and informative article about flying safely with Wedge Tailed Eagles. His article inspired me to share an experience I have had flying with Wedgies. by Jason MacLeod Walking up to launch The track Photos: Jason MacLeod Hike and fly in Tasmania Photo: John Botting