As I stare out the window across the barren landscape passing by me in darkness, reflecting on the events of the day. My body sinks into exhaustion, but my mind is awake, perhaps it is the Wendy’s hamburger and fries that is keeping me going, but I doubt it. It was a spur of the moment trip, no planning, yet came together in perfect orchestration. Last night around 11:00 p.m. I received an invitation to come up and fly in Logan in the morning. Bright and early Clark and I headed north in hopes to fly. We met up with a fantastic group of local pilots whos enthusiasm is still contagious, and keeps me smiling. After bumping up a rough dirt road for an hour or more, and another hour or more hiking we found ourselves on the top of the mountains overlooking Logan. The distant snowy peaks of Mt. Ogden, Ben Lomond, Wellsville, and Big Baldy enclose this beautiful valley of Logan, and here we are on top of the east range. It reminds me of the old Wasatch mountains still a bit wild and free.
It is just after 12:00, mid-day and the thermals are racing up to the peak to greet us with smiles. Todd and I lay out our wings and in quick succession head off into the bubbling air. Jeff, Keenan, Clark, and a few others soon follow. As our climbs approach 11,000 feet we all turn north and begin the cross country towards Smithfield. Several canyon crossings and the range seems to end. I look down and see a few of the others landing in a huge meadow of flowers. Still at 9,000 feet I look north and guess what I see? Nothing recognizable….not even an established road. In fact, I am not even sure which state I am in anymore, Utah, Idaho? I just see farm fields as far as one can see. I have no car, no shuttle driver arranged, so I decide to do the prudent thing and spiral down and land with the others in the flowers. What a beautiful flight, smiles, and unquenchable energy. It is nearly 3:00 p.m. so we pack up, hitch a ride, and head to our car.
Let’s go fly Randolph I suggest. After all it is only an hour or so away. Clark agrees….but only if we get a shake at Bear Lake. Agreed. So we drive over the Logan mountains, into Bear Lake, get our shake which makes up now for missing breakfast and lunch. Then off to Randolph.
We reach the ridge just in time to see a few of the newer pilots begin sinking out. With our gear in hand, the wind picks up and we launch. Up we go as the remainder of a somewhat large group from Utah Paragliding arrive for attempt number 2. The sun slowly sinks into the horizon as we fly nearly 2.1/2 hours above the valley, river, and ridge. As the sun begins to set on an epic day of flying I set up and land back on top of the mountain.
We shuttle the cars down to the landing field where pilots are bustling with excitement and adrenaline. These are mostly newer pilots and just got their first taste of a much bigger world out here in the mountains. It is so much fun to see their eyes wide and smiles so big.
Yes, this sport is quite amazing. A sport that causes me to reflect often on the blessings in my life. Amongst those blessings is that of great friends to fly with, both old and new. It is great sharing the sky with you!
