It has been said that half of aviation is learning how to land. There is some truth to this statement. So every now and then, I head back to the training hill for a little bit of T&L – Takeoffs and Landings. It’s exhausting, tedious, and a potential source of embarrassment, but it makes me a better person. So I claim 
This weekend’s return to the training hill was prompted by our first day at Black Cap, when I backed off launch because I wasn’t sure I could pull it off, and our last day, when I most definitely failed to pull off a landing. I figured I’d get some exercise, spruce up my technique, and go home feeling smug and self-righteous. At least that was the plan.
I arrived at Ed Levin Park to discover that conditions were wretched, with high temperatures, dead air, and small thermal cycles blowing fitful little zephyrs from every direction. This was perfect! This was exactly what I wanted! If my goal was to suffer, I had picked the right day. Full of masochism, I set up my wing and harness, preflighted it, and dragged the whole lot – 100 lbs or so – up the 50’ hill for my first flight. There wasn’t a breath of wind, but I knew how to handle a no-wind takeoff on a hot day.
Or so I thought.
Picking myself up after the impact, I checked out my wing to make sure it was OK, then dragged it up the hill for a second flight. Perhaps I’d picked the wrong moment to launch, when the wind had started to blow downhill. Yes, that must be it! Surely there couldn’t be anything wrong with my technique. The second flight was near-perfect, with a smooth launch, good speed and directional control, and a two-step landing after a slightly-too-late flare.
Yes, I thought, I’ve got this figured out! One more flight to make sure I’ve got this all sorted out, then I could head home for a beer. Feeling smug, I slogged back up the hill for what I was certain would be a triumphant conclusion to the T&L session.
Right.
After I’d picked myself up, dusted myself off, and finished grumbling, I dragged my wing over to the breakdown area. Something was wrong, and I wasn’t going to sort it out by banging my head against the wall. Fortunately a friend had set up a camera to film some of his students, I walked over and asked him to back it up so I could looked over my third flight – such as it was.
It was most definitely not a thing of beauty. I’d pitched my wing up to get it off my shoulders early in my takeoff, then failed to run fast enough to really get flying. This is one of those elementary mistakes that one believes one has outgrown… and one of the reasons we head back to the training hill is to see if these beliefs are correct.
I considered heading home at this point. It was hot, I was tired, and I was screwing up – all good reasons to take a break. But I was also stubborn, so I dragged myself back up the hill to give it another go. I should know how to launch a hang glider, darn it! I’d been doing it for 26 years! A few minutes to get my breath back, a few more minutes to visualize the technique I should be using, and a long wait for the breeze to stop blowing downhill. Then it was blowing up – it was now or never…
…and I aced it. Problem solved. Time for that beer!
