The idea for a paragliding trip to South America was conceived whilst paragliding in Piedrahita, Spain in March...

Flying with 'Urubus' in Brazilian Skies

Flying with 'Urubus' in Brazilian Skies

Article from Skywings magazine

by Crispin Rose-Innes

The idea for a paragliding trip to South America was conceived by Grita and myself whilst paragliding in Piedrahita a year ago in March 2002. During our short week in Piedrahita, it slowly dawned on us both that the only sure way in which to increase our airtime and to have fun flying, was to seriously consider an extended trip abroad in a place where a good climate, warm temperatures and a safe environment would guarantee superb flying. We decided that a winter trip was preferable and that if this was to be, the destination had to be outside Europe. Rather than to blindly venture out on our own, we wanted to include an experienced instructor whose judgement we both implicitly trusted. On our return, the idea was put to Carlo Borsattino who enthusiastically agreed. Our plan was born.

The summer months came and went and although now in place, the plan was slower to gather momentum than we had originally imagined. Various South American destinations were considered and rejected until Carlo suggested that the ideal location had to be Governador Valadares in Brazil which comfortably offered all that was desired. For the trip to be worthwhile, we decided on a three week slot and for it to be affordable, the group was to include up to twelve people with two instructors to bear the load. Given such a fabulous and exotic location with the prospect of superb flying, it was somewhat extraordinary that so few paragliding pilots raced to fill the available places. However, with the combined brilliance of Carlo and Mark Watts taking charge of this special experience, we knew that we were destined for something very remarkable!

By early autumn and after a second visit to Piedrahita, our plans took shape and rapidly reached the point of no return. Finally in November, we had 'all systems go'! The organisation for the Brazilian trip was considerable. The dates, the cost, and the planning to synchronise the expectations of those who were interested, proved complex and longwinded. Some people were interested in two weeks and others in three, and, with the Carnival in Rio almost coinciding with the proposed dates it was important to secure flights at the earliest opportunity. Governador Valadares is situated some 650 kilometres north of Rio and with the necessary bus transfers, it was vital for everyone to arrive at the same time, in the same place, on the same day. Quite apart from the logistical planning, the organising of dates, flights, transfers, retrieves and local drivers, it became quite apparent that a great deal more had to be sifted and sorted before the trip could finally materialise. There were essential inoculations to be had, there was the question of spending money and how best to take it and also the practical issues concerning very thorough equipment checks for our own safety. As relatively low airtime pilots, most of us were quite innocent as to what we actually needed. Wings yes, but what else? Varios were not a problem as we all had these but suddenly GPSs, compasses, maps and flight decks came into the equation. Few of us had ever flown with all this gadgetry before, let alone with any acquired knowledge on how to actually use it, or how best to configure the array and how on earth to comfortably attach it to a harness.

Trial flights in Sussex to test our 'kit' proved amusing. We soon found out that no flight deck is apparently designed to easily accept any harness and that trial cradle hanging from a beam, bears no similarity to the reality of weight distribution in flight. It was a matter of trial and error, test it and see. And as for GPS's - there are so many to choose from! As always, Carlo came to the rescue and under his critical guidance we spent much time discreetly nosing our way in and out of various schools, carefully looking into the pro's and cons of all makes and models. For those who are un-initiated with GPSs, it should be known that it's easy to fall into deep water and come unstuck when deciding what to buy. Some units are impossibly difficult to read, some are difficult to use (particularly with gloved hands) and some have functions that others just don't. It's a minefield of common and not so common sense but once the choice has been made, you can bet your bottom dollar that someone, somewhere will always take the critical line and suggest that you've made a blunder and opted for the wrong make or the wrong model.

Governador Valadares is hot and sticky with average temperatures ranging in the high 30s. Beautiful birds (all sorts), shrubs and giant flowering trees abound. The city straddles the fast flowing, rapid ridden Rio Doce whilst the big lump of Pico do Ibituruna forms an impressive 1100m backdrop just 3ks to the south. Take-off is from either face of the east-west ridge on top of Pico do Ibituruna. At first sight, the prospect of launching from a small grassy slope, high above the hilly and undulating terrain some 2,500' feet below seemed somewhat daunting. However, a direct 15 minute top-to-bottom across the river and its built-up, midway island brings you to a landing field on the edge of town. It's important to get this one right as any shortfall... and you're in the drink. Once achieved, the confidence flows and a window of endless opportunity slowly unveils with possible landing areas just about everywhere. Of course, we all knew that each one of us was quite adept at top landings and slope landings, at hard landings, and at soft landings and at landing in horribly small, confined spaces. And at first, until we found our way, this was the way it was. In reality, the possibilities were far, far better and far less traumatic than anything we'd ever experienced in Tenerife with the boulders, the building sites, the cranes, the roofs of shopping malls, the overcrowed beaches, the high tension cables, the pylons, the cactuses, motorways, spaghetti junctions and endless concrete jungle. By comparison, this was a dream come true, with vast open skies above and below and at every point of the compass as far as the eye could see.

Puffy little white clouds everywhere, yes - flying with urubus (Brazilian for vultures), yes - endless thermals for the taking, yes - nice friendly people, yes and a great sense of ease at all times, yes! yes! yes! This place has to be God's gift to all who paraglide. And so, from one day to the next and all that followed, just as with fledglings, our skills grew and simply got better and better and better. Landing out had been something of a concern during the first few days.

From 6,000' everything had the habit of looking green and lush and to our horror, much of it was. From 1,000' it all looked just the same, rolling hills and green grass. A great deal of the green grass was indeed grass, but not grass as we knew it. This grass was elephant grass and once committed to landing, some of us were quick to discover that any way out was going to be very hard work indeed. Elephant grass stands over 8' high and within seconds, the world disappears, the wing floats over your head and you find yourself emersed not only in a sea of green bathed light but also up to your knees in bog. When drenched in sweat, with a tangle of lines, your helmet on your head and boots full of water, the task of reaching any road becomes a laboriously exhausting process. We rapidly learnt to recognise these perils, to be more selective and to avoid such places. Landings close to roads and tracks were imperative for quick and trouble free retrieves. We were to discover other joys - most landings, near roads, attracted the attention of young children from miles around and for the most part, this was a boon. Within seconds of touch down, you would find yourself surrounded by kids of all ages, each anxious of course to individually witness the arrival of a strange flyer from the blue skies above. 'What's your name?', they would ask. They were friendly and enthusiastic and more often than not, you would discover that, they too, knew exactly how to neatly fold and pack away a wing, with the A-risers on top and all else just as it should be. And so, whilst gently mopping your brow, it would be a treat to watch their expertise and to gently relax whilst your kit was carried by young little nippers through long grass and over barbed wire fences to a shady resting place by the side of the road where you could finally let go, sip cool water and wait for a retrieve.

Of course in the first few days, it goes without saying that Carlo and Mark must have been silently and sorely frustrated by our timid manner, but this was a BIG, BIG place with lots to learn and lots to grasp. The dropping in and dropping out of thermal activity was naturally as disappointing to them as it was for us but with constant daily cajoling, briefing and debriefing, we flapped our wings and found our way. Within days, we found ourselves climbing amongst vultures, reaching cloud base with ease, slowly drifting in and out of all that funny white stuff (that has until now, been a complete no, no) and then departing on long glides that all of us thought were far beyond our capability. As the distances covered, increased, those expensive toys came into their own. Yes, they do work and brilliantly so. Quite suddenly, everything we'd initially stumbled over began to make perfect sense and the open skies now belonged not only to the multitude of effortlessly circling vultures but also to each one of us as well! We thermalled ourselves silly, frequently recovering from low saves to find ourselves yet again back on top at 6,500' - 7,000'. Yelps of delight rang through the air when leaving the thermic stack, with the realisation that there was more, much, much, more, to glide to in the distant blue of far beyond. We flew on our own, we flew in gaggles, we flew with Carlo and we flew with Mark. We flew like none of us had ever flown before and this was so far beyond anything any of us had ever believed. This was pure, concentrated, overflowing, bubbly joy and the foundation for many a wild dream. It seems that flying gets just a little easier and more enjoyable when you crack the nut and begin to grasp the know, of how to.

This was a trip where everybody in every respect, achieved their personal best. For some, total airtime was doubled and in one case tripled. The duration of flights increased to the three and four hour mark. For each of us, the cross-country distances covered, rocketed from miniscule hops over tame English fields, to massive 40, 50, 60 and 70 kilometre leaps and bounds in the cool clean air above the scorching Brazilian countryside. This was a trip that none of us would, or should have missed. Thank you Carlo and thank you Mark - you made our days - days that mostly we shall never forget and some that were so exquisite and so exciting, they'll be impossibly hard to remember.

Participating: Abigail Barr, Bobby Brown, Nancy Elliott, Mike Parfitt, John Stevens, Grita & Crispin Rose-Innes

Published in Skywings magazine June 2003.