Paragliders are much slower than hang gliders, and much less able to cope with strong conditions, but they do have some advantages. One is the ease with which they can be transported. It is quite possible for someone in reasonable shape to hike up the hill with their gear on their back. Not only is this good exercise, it leaves one feeling smug, virtuous, and morally superior to the ecologically challenged slobs who drive up road in a truck.
At least that’s the theory.
In practice, I’d lost interest in smug virtue by the time I reached the 600’ level, and when a truckload of friends offered me a ride, I was happy to hop aboard and be a slob for the rest of the 1700’ climb. On top of the mountain, things looked promising. It was summer, which usually means stable air and unsoarable conditions here in the Bay Area. But the sky was blue, the horizon was sharp, and the inversion didn’t look too strong, which meant there was a chance for a sea breeze front.
We’re all familiar with the concept. Cool air blows in from the ocean, gets heated by the land, and rises, pulling more air in behind it. (I’ve never been quite sure what happens to the air after it has risen – kidnapped by aliens, perhaps.) This wall of rising air is the ‘sea breeze front’. Here in the Bay Area, it forms near the coast and moves inland as the day progresses, passing through Ed Levin Park sometime between 11 and noon. It was 11 now. And did I mention that the air in a sea breeze front is rising? 
By the time I’d laid out my gear, puffs of wind were blowing up the slope. When I looked from launch, I could see a gaggle of vultures climbing as they circled below me. The only thing missing was a voice from the heavens shouting, “Launch now, you dufus”. (Dufus – noun, plural dufii: a person who waits too long to get off the hill). Switch on my variometer, check my harness straps, tug on the risers to get the canopy overhead, kite it for a moment to check the lines, turn, run, and I’m off.
When the sea breeze front pushes past Ed Levin, the best place to look for lift is in front of the 1500’ hill, so I turned left, flew to the shelf in front of it, and made a few passes. The results were disappointing: a few beeps from the vario, but I was losing altitude. The next place to try was the bowl in front of the 1200’ hill. This wasn’t much better, and I’ve always felt nervous getting low over those trees. It seemed today was not my day, so I shrugged – easier to do while seated in a paraglider harness than lying prone in a hang glider harness – and headed out toward the LZ.
As I passed the end of the 1200’, my canopy surged upwards. I didn’t need a vario to recognize this! One s-turn, another, and the hill was below me. Not bad for a summer day! This lift wasn’t steady enough to keep me up, but surely there was more to find. Below me, I could see the windsock on the 600’ hill flicking back and forth as if a thermal was blowing through. This was worth a look.
Seconds later, I was climbing in a nice well-defined core. Life was good. My vario was beeping, the ground was dropping away, and all was right with the world. Well… almost right. In addition to going up, I was also getting pushed downwind. This can be food for thought on an aircraft with a top speed on a par with a Frisbee.
Concerned about losing touch with the LZ, I turned upwind and found myself just barely moving forward. My smugness at anticipating this situation was counterbalanced by a nagging concern that the situation I’d anticipated was not an unmixed blessing. A bit of patience got me back over the 600’ hill into another thermal. Then I was climbing again… and getting swept downwind… again. I could see a pattern here. I could also see that the wind was picking up. This time when I turned upwind, I was almost stationary.
Skilled pilots notice things like this. I notice them too. I’d had my fun, now I was time to head down for a gelatto. I reached the field with plenty of altitude, plenty of room, and plenty of time to set up my approach. There was a bit of traffic in the pattern, but only enough to keep things from getting boring. And landing a paraglider in a smooth steady breeze is a non-event. After I’d toted my canopy over to the parking area, I got to enjoy another advantage of paragliders. With no battens to pull, wing to fold, sail to furl, or control frame to disassemble, you can pack one away in a fraction of the time it takes to break down a hang glider. Minutes later, I was on my way back to town.
And that gelato was delicious!
