X-PYR DAY 3 /EN/

...or fly when the others are scared because of the weather…
Our camping site is so awesome that I’m now jealous of it. Next to a burbling icy cold brooklet with beautiful scenery of rocks taking my breath away and Marek is close to tears as he doesn’t have the gear with him and there’s no time for climbing. As I’m walking up the mountain, not really awake, I jump from rock to rock, catching up with a Spaniard breathing heavily like puffs from a steam locomotive. He can’t speak the imperialistic (English) language very well so the discussion isn’t wort a dime.

It’s a pity that it blows quite heavily trough the saddle I’m about the cross and reach the ridge… maybe too heavily. Well, saddle, morning… it’ll get better, I think naively…

But the saddle is like a gate into another world… plateau… and on the right and on the left I see rocky scenery and wind is pushing against me. On the rocks, just by the way, some vultures are sitting and croaking at one another. Now and then some of them get bored, take wings and soar to the eastern slope and at nine they climb not much of a thermal with the crosswind and disappear.

As I’m walking I’m looking for some water source… well, none, as usually and I have only one litre left and one and a half hour until the take off.

I have two options for the take off. The first one includes taking off from a rocky cliff with the wing in the lee and actually down the hill since the summit is vertical from the south and in falls immediately, although with the grassy part but full of sharp limestone razor blades perfect for cutting the wing lines. The other option is quite a nice but pretty steep meadow not far away, but it’s right above the ridge, which won’t do any good, I mean, once there will be a thermal from SW, then from SE, that’s not good. Since there’s plenty of time I unpack my staff, the trekking poles serve as a construction and my primaloft is hung between them and creates emergency shade. Because you know, besides water there’s nothing here, not even a bush, just rocks, stones, stones once again and few clumps of grass here and there. Why do I mention it that much? You know, I walked around like an idiot because it was always the same story. I saw a place bit farther that looked better than the one I just arrived at… few clumps of grass were hiding all the rocks from my view. So I made next ten steps and saw that it’s not much better. But, look, that spot seems to be better… so I walked and walked and all my hopes for a better spot for my Avax were in vain.

At half past eleven I unpack the wing but I’m not sure about that… those few clumps of grass are lying on the ground like nailed, the birds of prey are soaring at 1/3 the wing area and as soon as they spread their wings fully, they disapear somewhere behind the ridge… :D It’s simply blowing like from the asses of all thirty-seven Hannibal’s elephants that were passing by to Rome years ago, all at once… fortunately they are now six feet under but still kind of breathing too heavily. After few tries and few close encounters of the third kind with rocks, I manage to get the wing into the flight mode, and in the last moment it drops down like a stone. That wouldn’t have finished well, I mean, it would be way too bloody.

What to do next? It looks like my livetrack isn’t working; there’s almost no signal even for my phone so I gave it a thought. Finally, I decide to traverse approx. 1,800 m along the ridge in the right direction. Why? I don’t feel like walking down the valley to take some water and lose 1,000 m of altitude and right away climb 500 m up another ridge. So I’m breaking my legs walking along chamois trails, gravel, rocks and other comfy staff. I just watch my steps, as once I almost slipped on a gravel field and only then I noticed that the slope can be something like 45° steep and after two meters of gravel there’s a precipice steep like hell, so if I have really tried it, I would have finished like minced meat for sausages.

Well, never mind, I have to go on and concentrate more, not just walk. I reached a spot where the wind was not that bad, there’s even some grass, not only rocks, but what’s even better is that I’m hidden behind a ridge, which calms down the wind a bit, and the lower altitude is also an advantage. Of course I’m scared like hell; all my determination was consumed by the one-hour attempt to take off in 12 m/s. My heart sank with the thoughts: what if there is no chance with the headwind? Behind me, there are slopes, cliffs, precipices full of sharp rock, but the main thing is that I’ve never seen them before, only from satellite :D I can say for sure that I won’t be able to land, for sure not behind the main ridge… How it is blowing up there? I can only guess with certainty that is almost uncertain...there’s not even a single could, which could help me to figure out the speed and direction.

Not for the first time and not for the last I leave the ground with just one wish… Did I guess it correctly, didn’t I!?!

I’m taken upwards straight ahead like smoke through the chimney, taken by the thermal towards the bright blue sky. When I look at it now, I can say that it wasn’t that bad, sure, the thermals were strong, the wind as well, but nothing that couldn’t be managed somehow. You know, the determination or the general mental toughness is like any other muscle; it can get tired or exhausted. I climb a bit, try as hard as possible. While jumping over the first valley, besides thinking about that bullshit I’ve just made, I’m watching the narrow valley behind me full of trees and rocks. Good for me, I’m not about to land. On the next ridge I’m a bit braver and climb into maybe 2,700 – 2,800. I try as hard as possible to get to the next beautiful rocky ridge, the last one before the jump backwards into the mountains to get the TP3, Anayet. Two-and-half-thousand-meter-high mountain not far from Candachú. I climb a strong thermal along with a glider into maybe 3,500 and it disappears like a shot and I’m getting nailed down to the ground. Well… I flew over to another mountain from that altitude, climbed a bit… took a deep breath and let’s go with the wind backwards again. Groundspeed around 70 km/h. Great! The thermal right before the TP makes LEGO out of me; I do everything possible and impossible. If I was standing on the ground, one would think that I’m practising for Spartakiad… I’m watching the wing and listening to skydrop all the time… when it’s over I have 8plus meter… in the half turn it gives me 3.5 m/s down, that is 10 m/s difference in just 3 seconds… mmm… I’d call it a Spanish washing machine. I swear to myself that after turning Anayet I will land, it’s not worth it… now there’s only one thing on my mind, to escape without getting killed. Looking backwards: it wasn’t that bad, but I was shit-scared and that played a role. Well, what to add… I pushed my limits, again...

I barely manage to catch a glimpse of a certain giant, Pic du Mudi du Osssau. What a monolith of pure rock, that is something! I guess it has something like 400-500 m and is towering from a grassy plateau like a king from ancient times.  I’m woken up from this romantic dreaming by Avaxiáš underneath me… Heyy, watch out! When I manage to get it into the correct position again, happy as a clam, I’m watching towards an open and pretty landing-friendly valley. I land on a beach, with shaking legs, trembling voice and bleeding nose. I put myself together and continue running along a dam. Legs relaxed a bit and with adrenaline in my blood I can continue bravely on the ground. After maybe 10 km I see three locals flying, well I should rather say, standing in the air high above the valley. Truth be told, I wouldn’t have got much farther, and if… I would have had no place to land. I overtook few guys; I’m alive and healthy… What a beautiful day!

TRACK

In the evening, Guiseppe is trying to land flying backwards on big ears and full speed, Zlatko rather landed after few meters.

We set up a camp underneath a 2,000 m high mountain, from which I would like to leapfrog in the morning because there will be a front, so I want to be up as soon as possible and fly at least something. We are caught up by the organiser, they want some videos J

Evergreen of the contest cuisine, pasta with everything you can imagine and let’s go into my brand new sleeping bag. Sweet dreams!

I walked approx. 27 km, climbed 700 m and flew around 35 km, not the best performance, but I didn’t kill myself J

The first three guys are far, far away, flying in weaker wind, and so they finished just before TP7 today. Maurer even managed to fly down into the valley…

NEXT DAY--->

X-PYR DAY 2 /EN/

At 5 in the morning the alarm clock rings and Kubko like a sleepy ghost boils some water so he can pour it on some dried food, while I’m drinking Redbull. The wind is so bloody strong that it’s almost breaking the trees. Damn weather forecast, it wasn’t supposed to be like this!

It’s dark as the inside of a horse and besides the howling wind you can’t hear anything. Are the beasts in Spain lazy, too? Or? I’m struggling through already mentioned combination of ferns and prickles, and as the time passes I’m pretty sure that today I won’t fly… fly like normal people do. Unless I would really compete, you know, like really, which means blood, sweat and tears. Maybe a kilometre ahead of me I see Garin (a French guy) fighting with the ferns as well, but according to the livetracking he jacked in and continues along the contour line. No wonder as my tiny body is almost taken away by the wind. Well, it’s useless… So empty handed I follow in Garin’s footsteps. As the road is descending, at the end of the ridge, the wind becomes a little more, but really just a little more bearable, which means 10-12 m/s… well that could be somehow managed. I see Garin stamping on the asphalt below me… well, I’ll wipe his eyes!

The deadly combination of ferns and prickles makes it really difficult to take off, but I’ve found a small spot, where it could be possible. I unpack my staff; I damn check everything, especially the speed and let’s hope. For what? This is not the first time, and it’s highly probable that not even the last time, when I wish just for one thing while taking off… that I guessed it correctly, which actually mans that I can handle that. TRACK

I pull the A lines, jump something like 20 m backwards until Avax is above my head and it pulls me upwards and full speed. It takes ma upwards, but I stay on the same spot. But Avax doesn’t let me down, I just turn slightly, crabbing a bit and there we go. Wind helped me a bit and later it got a bit weaker in the lee that the hills created in front of me so I managed to fly few kilometres. After the landing near the road, I feel quite shaky, not for the first time and not for the last time. But the good thing is I don’t have to walk! That is something also Maurer told me at the Bornes. Leapfrogs will spare you for the critical situations when you really need to run and move up a gear. Of course I’m not as good the Champion… but only repetition and constant improvement makes the master.

Until the guys from the support vehicle catch up with me, I’m already ascending another hill… even though the wind is so strong again that it’s beating the tress as if they were made of paper. Well, hopefully it will weaken, I think. Once again, I’m running out of water, I’m drying out from the scorching sun and a mountain is towering ahead of me. At last I find a watering place and another “Drydissey” (odyssey of thirsty) is over. Even the wind is getting a bit weaker and it reaches reasonable values so that it allows me to fly forward. In a sec I’m ready and let’s go, or better let’s fly. I soared few kilometres and landed in the well-known combination (prickles, prickles and once more prickles and two withered ferns just to confuse me) so I struggle with untangling the lines for at least 15 minutes in a 35° slope and air temperature of the same value. I need to get out of the bushes as quickly as possible, today in regular trousers and thus no more scratches today!

TRACK

Support feeds me underneath a beautiful plane tree with a view of nice green hills around and of course of the ubiquitous end products of the cow or horse metabolism as the final touches of the atmosphere, however the perception is a bit stronger that I would wish…

After a failed attempt to fly down the hill I continue into the saddle in the direction of the TP2 two-thousand meter high mountain Orhi. It blows a bit in the saddle, I try to climb as high as possible, I even pass a vulture party – sitting on a rock and croaking at one another. But as I unpack my Avax, they take wing and show me a superb thermal, a climb a bit, then once again but it doesn’t allow me to fly forward with headwind, but it spared my legs few km of asphalt and speeded up. In the heat I shuffle towards the next take off since the mountains here are pretty high but the valleys are pretty shallow as well, like screenplays of some of our soap operas or sitcoms. There’s no good place for take off. I have to pass few more kilometres until I find a suitable spot. And then, finally, let’s fly. Poof, and I’m in heaven… climbing pretty high and I continue and see beautiful views of TP2.

Breath-taking views, really, mountains like hell far ahead of me also rocks… and me… flying above all of this. TRACK

But I have to land since the speed is tangled in the main harness and the other end isn’t attached very well. Well, never mind, I land in front of some tourists, everything is done in 10 seconds and let’s fly again. I climb maybe 3000 m and fly farther. I landed maybe at 6 or something like that. It wasn’t that good, I could have done it differently, but now it doesn’t matter. Important is that I was able to flee, with two or three more pilots, and leave the main “peloton” behind as they’re kept on the ground far before the TP2. We sleep in magical surrounding.

The first three guys (Maurer, Durogati and Mayer) are ahead of us pretty much. Now, looking backwards, I would rather run like the wind and followed them to reach my last today’s take off spot and not spare my feet. Well, in our country we have a saying “after a battle everyone is a general”… but I will remember that!

Some statistics: walked 25 km, climbed 2570 m of elevation (walking), flown 43 km

X-PYR DAY 1 /EN/

I’m back in my fatherland, tired enough, and surprisingly quite healthy. 

In the next few articles I’m going to try, my dear readers, to describe the whole X-pyr, my struggle with the bloody weather, with myself and you know… this kind of stuff. There will be quite much of it because, as you will read, it was something incredible so it is worth writing few words about that. Anyway, I will try to avoid writing about whom, where and what I ate or how I taped my shanks with a plaster because it’s cool.

Briefings, signing, paperwork and things like this are over, it’s the last night before the contest and I’m sitting in the camp, as well as many other competitors. I’m pretty excited, damn it! Great contest ahead of me, for me the most superb one so far! How it will turn out? Will I be able to get even to the first turning point through the town? What will my messed up meniscus do? I was sitting on my ass almost one and a half month doing pretty much anything, I didn’t train, won’t I finish too soon? A bunch of other bullshits is crossing my mind, but there’s no time for that… At eleven 31 guys from all over the world are standing in the sand of the Spanish Hondaribia beach in the Bay of Biscay up to their ankles, shuffling around like chicken on a muddy yard and if it wasn’t enough, they are melting like cheap polish ice cream since it’s more than 30 degrees. But the countdown starts and it sends shivers down my spine and my head turns off!

GO, GO, GO!

Few jumps through the slippery, sandy crap mixed with probably thousands of crushed shells and on the first asphalt road I take off the plastic bags from my shoes (so that the sand doesn’t get into them). I run through the town along the route we had checked the day before and I’m first. After some time, the crowd is getting separated, but I want to run at least 10-12 km through the town. I’ve chosen not the shortest way, but for me personally the best one, in the shade as much as possible.

When my route crosses the route of others, I’m probably 10 minutes after the first group. Well, but at least I didn’t get heatstroke… I go on only at a faster walking pace, through the real Spanish countryside, here and there a house or a cow, fences everywhere and winding roads. Ascent to the first turning point, Larhunne, the elevation is more than nine hundred meters. We’re hurrying together with Marek, my support, up the hill and to be honest, I’ quite done. I can’t .

First turning point, some photos, millions of people and so on. I see the first three guys already in the air, so I unpack my stuff, too. It blows from the NE, what is bad, you know, too stable air and headwind at the same time. It was better the days before, breeze, clouds in 1,000- 1,200 m, thermals 3-4 m/s, but now? Dull, stable air and headwind. I see that behind me there will be no one for a long time, so I jump into the Spanish-French air all alone (TP1 is on the boarder ridge of ESP-FR).

 TRACK

After few kilometres I’m nailed down to the ground by the wind, well never mind, I’m rushing up the hill to relaunch. I see others just taking off from the TP1 but they bomb out and are falling down like the rouble exchange rate. I find a place as low as possible and at the same time as high as possible, so that the take off will allow me to climb into the dull sky. The take of is one meter longer than my Avax, and therefore, yes, I fall down like an average Slovak university student after a dorm party, well, no response at all. Thud from a one-meter-high precipice… well my head starts to cook a bit ‘cause I drank all my water and everything around here is dry, even the “guaranteed” springs.

In such “cooked” conditions I take off next to Krysta (CZE) and Williams (USA), we’re wriggling in the weak thermals together. Jessie jumps backwards and me with the Czech mate, we both waver a bit. After a jump over a quite woody valley we climb a bit, but the wind is nailing us down to the ground. I landed as high as possible, into creepy and bloody ferns, which at first looked fluffy, but the opposite was true. Beast I have seen never before are hidden in that ferns. I’m so scratched that it’s bad to look at but worse to feel. I will never ever risk flying in shorts again, I swear by God as I ascent.

 TRACK

I’m literally cooking in my own skin, my visual field is narrowed and I have a headache. I’m weak as the weakest tea can be and there is not a sign of a spring. Support is still far away. Damn it!! I’m on my last legs, but two minutes before my body shuts down, I spot something… Yes it’s a spring. I’m saved! I’m so thirsty, that Moses and Israelites didn’t experience this kind of thirst during their 40-day track across the desert, I guess. I quench my thirst with the icy water, drench my head, as well as the whole body, so that I get cooled a bit and there comes my support. I sit half an hour or so, put myself together and there we go, up the hill. I have no idea about the elevation, but it’s pretty steep. Below the summit we meet Gerald Gold, Xapls athlete. We talk with him a bit and we fly together. I was the first one to fly just over the trees and land in a decent lee and up a hill; it’s become a kind of unwritten rule.

 TRACK

We pack quickly since we met here Krysta and some other guys. I rush into the saddle, at first along the trail, then across the ferns with the hidden bonus, prickling lovers , Karamba! I’m as excited and full of energy, as though I haven’t been running with my backpack the whole day, haven’t climbed three mountains and walked or run more than 20 km. Well, this contest is a big deal. Finally, I managed to perform a feat daring-do, as my support called it. Take off at 21:08 and landing exactly 56 seconds before the last possible landing time (21:14:04, if you’re later than 21:15 you get penalised). All the other guys stayed behind me in the saddle, cursing, similar to me, when taking my Avax from the ferns. I’d rather don’t talk about that.

TRACK

My last steps are accompanied with the thoughts of the next morning before I reach a kind of hill. There I build my premium GOTLAND1, which kept me company and protected my body in Africa and Nepal and I swear by it.

After the evergreen of the contest cuisine – pasta with everything possible and impossible – and with my legs cured with horse chestnut cream, I’m lying down on my XT… the first camping air mattress which allowed me to sleep through the whole night, since my bony body can walk, climb and fly from dawn until dusk, but from dusk until dawn it wants to lie nicely in warm and fluffy “bed”!

Day summary: 30 km walked or run, 30 km flown, elevation 1,800 m.
NEXT DAY--->

Kaukazom ako aeronaut časť prvá

Prišlo plané počasie a ja proste nevydržím len tak sedieť ako päť  peňazí. Reku spíšem  prvú  časť  môjho výletu..na telefóne...bude to utrpenie lebo neznášam písačky na tejto maličkej  obrazovke s maličkými gombíkmi..ech s hrubými  a necitlivými  prstami...ale lepšie  ako nečinne sedieť.
Pravda,  Kaukaz máta ma už  dlhšie,  ale príprava  bola nulová,  jediné  čo  som si pozrel detailnejšie,  boli dĺžky  preletov,  aby som vedel koľko  mám  uviať  aby si ma tu zapamätali. Mám len 6ks sušeného  jedla v prípade  nutnosti  a cely bágl váži 20kg. Letenku som si kupoval tri dni vopred,  kvôli  počasiu,  preto aj cestujem pofidernou firmou aj keď so zvučným menom...Pegasus. Letím  cez Istanbul ,  nie priamo a na prestup na letisku o ktorom som ešte  nepočul,  mám len 1.5h. To pri mojom cestovateľskom šťastí  bude málo. Vo Viedni už mešká  samoľot o dobrých  45 minút. Sakra. A nie len ja som sklamaný ,  že  to,  prečo  do Gruzínska  idem,  mi uchodí pomedzi  pazúre. Počasie...
Nie som sám nervózny,  dokonca aj samurajka v burke, čo  jej len oči svietia,  dupe do dlažby pekne rebelantsky vybijanými podpätkami. Áno , okované    pravými  rockerskými pyramídkami...smejem sa popod nesmelo riedky fúz,  rebeliu nezastavíš.
Dosmejem sa v Istambule,  lietadlo sme nestihli,  4h čakám na papiere a zvoz na hotel čo nám  zaplatili. 4* ale čo  z toho?  Ja chcem lietať  v horách  a nie zabíjať  čas na izbe. Čo  keď  mi ujde počko?  Podebatím s akýmsi  turkménom, vymeníme  si drobné  z našich  krajín. Aspoň  sa priučím rusky.

28.8. Letím dnes ďalej...na letisku ide len jedna vízová kontrola a ľudí  je milión...mnohí  nestihnú...ja som prišiel  2h skorej a keby mi nemeškal  aeroplán, nestihnem aj ja. Do dupy aj s Turkotatármi.
Sadnem do samoľotu, prespím štart,let aj pristátie....krása  cestovať! V Tbilisi som o 4 ráno,hned idem zakúpiť  simku. Predomnou 5 Španielok, škaredých tak, ako len môžu  byť   (xpyr skúsenosť) ktoré  riešia koľko  gigabajtov  im treba na trápne  selfíčka z hotelu kdesi v meste...no je mi to fuk ale proste  zdržujú  neskutočne...im to trvalo 55 minút  a mne dve? 
Hneď ma odrbe tak-si-kár, za 2km chce 15 lari. Hodím  sa do prvého  poľa  chrápať, ale len do svitania, tj. hodinu.

Ráno kúpim jedlo na benzínke a idem na stopa. Chcem ísť  až ku hraniciam s Azerbajdžanom ,  lebo miestny pilot Anton  mi odporučil  letieť tam.  4x stop raz marshutka, to jest busík a mám 200km.
Vyložím sa asi 10km od hraníc a podľa  mapy by to tu mohlo ísť...mapa je ale sovietska, z roku pána  bohvie ktorého a aj to 1:100 000.
Z toho plynie problém...cesta  čo  mala byť..nieje alebo  ju neviem nájsť ani keby mi Mèdea ju zjavila. Takže  v horúčave  sa trepem kriakmi,  malinčím,  presekávam si cestu palicou,  mordujem sa dokonca potokom v džungli za akú by sa ani Vietnam nemusel hanbiť. Stratím  fľašku  s vodou. Idem i dodruhej dobrať do rieky...tam 25m vysoký,  80° strmý  svah plný  malinčia. Nebesá!
Dotrhaný,  dopichaný,  unavený  a nasratý  sa trepem nazad a do kopca..nikde ani len zvierací  chodník. V 900m (400m prevýšenia) sa otočím  lebo voda už  skoro došla a ďalšej už  nebude...smutný idem nazad...a čo  som nenašiel?  Cestu,  od ktorej som bol tak 10-15m v kriakoch a ktorá  by mi ušetrila  času,  vody  aj síl. Nuž  čo  už. Škoda  len že  tie mraky ma dnes nemohli pojať ,   bo pekné  boli ale prvé  lúky  začínajú  v 2000m a je hodín  kopec, nestihnem  sa na ne dostať.
Píšem Antonovi že či  sa stretneme, on že ide zajtra do Akhasupeli...dedina dve doliny na  západ, že  tam je štart v 900m! Do krásy..stopnem sa tam, nájdem flek a chrápem.

30.8. Ráno  je zadekované, dospávam do 9. Potom horko-ťažko zviecham sa, už  je horúco. Kráčam do kopcov...cez dedinu poslednú, po kravských  lajnách, cez most zbudovaný ešte  za tsara. Dobehne ma na mašine  Anton, ideme ďalej...pod kopcom sú vojaci, nejak to s nimi vybaví a môžeme hore. 20kg krát  35 stupňov  a strmina...dovidenia. Ďuro  vo vlastnej  šťave smažený. Prevýško  400m,vzadu hory vysoké 2700m s mrakmi...neveril som ale našli  sme to...to čo  ma robí  šťastným a slobodným, to, čo  ma na chvíľu  zbaví  tiaže zemskej, to, čo  z neprekonateľných skál a nedostupných hôr robí  ihrisko. Termiku...tak úžasne jednoduchá hra...Ďurifuk  vs. fyzika. Teplejší vzduch berie ma ako pierko, do diaľav a do výšin,  otvára  mi kraje a ženie  do dobrodružstiev či  nástrah  neznáma.
Tak ma driape aj kaukazská termika, ale niečo je plané...divne sa mi doľava  točí...pozriem lepšie a vo mne hegne. Hlavný nosný  popruh nie je zapnutý v karabíne, visím len na dvoch šnúrkach...samozrejme ma ťahá  hore jedna radosť. Čo teraz? Keby mam švacnúť  záložku, tak visím len v jednom popruhu, to nechcem. Tak idem radšej  vyľondovať na prvé  holiny v 2000m, dá to zabrať  ale podarilo sa. Chytro chytro zapnúť  do karabíny  čo  treba,  lebo už na mňa štekajú rozzúrené pastierske psiská.
Odpálim to a vejem het, problémom sú  slabé  dostupy  a doliny dĺžkou  pripomínajúce priemerný súd  na Slovensku. Kokso, ako som sa vybál? Po treťom takom preskoku už radšej zabudnem hľadať pristávačky.  A ono niekedy tam tá pristávačka aj je, ale ju cez kopček  či  rebierko  nevidno. Po 50km aj čosi  ma prekvapí preskok na svah kde to fučí  aj svieti po kose, nemôžem  nastúpať. Keby letím  viac horami, isto sa drapnem ale tú pristávačku som nevidel. Nič to, zajtra  budem múdrejší!
Zbalím  inštrumenty a na ceste ma berie prvé  auto, nejaký  sakra obrovský  náklaďák. Keď zastaví, vyskočí alebo skôr z neho vypadne vrece krumpľov, opitý  drevorubač, ale na bomby.
Presadne do druhého  čo ide za nami a frčíme nazad.

Super. Prišiel  som do Gruzínska  bez nejakého  jasného  plánu, teda  len sprobovať rekorda miestneho, a tu to vyzerá dobre, skúsim  ešte raz letieť to isté, viem na čo si mám  dať  pozor.
Dostopujem sa ku vojenskej základni pod horou, v družnej ruskej debate mi vysvetľujú  že  nás sledovali,  že  zajtra idú hore náklaďákom a doniesli mi aj nejaké  konzervy...spasiba, malodci.
Pes šteká  celu noc, naháňa líšky  okolo. Nevyspal  som sa.
31.8 S Antonom  sedíme v náklaďáku  vojenskom,  v skratke som skoro o zuby prišiel ,  hlavu mám obitú a črevá vytrasené. Nemusel  som však šľapať až 1000m prevýška a 8km po ceste. Nie že by som bol lenivý,  ale však našľapal som sa dosť  na X-pyre a kdekade,  kolená šetrím ešte do operácie.
Krásna poľana je hore,  vykosené  a vypasené a možnosť sa vrhnúť na V. Opití  drevorubači nás pozývajú na vodku i koňak...taký sú jak bomby.

Pred 11. letí  Anton,   ja chcem hneď za ním ale neprifúkne mi,  potom nejaka tráva sa mi zamotáva  do šnúr...asi to tak malo byť ,  Anton hnije ,  ja sa držím viacej v horách  a letím v diaľ. Krásne,  nádherné   a osamotené  chvíle  plné tichého  svišťania  vetru v ušiach. Držím  si výšku,  už to tu poznám,  ide to ľahšie. Kritický  bod ani nemám...včerajší  problém  som letel viac horami,  takže  pohodka. Preskočím  do širokej doliny s dedinou,  tam kde včera Anton na 70km vyľondoval a bol taký happy jak ja po 140fai. Študujem v mape pristávačky v ďalšej doline lebo nevidím  cez kopec. Sú tam. Mráčky  dotáčam,  naozaj sa nesmierne teším  a šípim kilo. Vietor však  zosilnieva a točí  sa na Z toť  protivietor. Dokúpim do 2800 pod mrak a pučím  proti nemu. Mám 97km na tacháči,  rekord už  mám ale chce to trojciferné číslo ,  nech to aj pekne vyzerá. Do tieňa mierim ,  je tam 98.5km a som nízko...pípne skybean  máličko...Už  aj sviští Avaxiáš  v stupáku...Že  vraj poslednom,  lebo deka je hrubá....potom ešte  jeden... a ešte jeden...a temer ešte  posledný,  ale ten sa strašne po plytkom svahu plazil...ma skoro do lesa švaclo.

Pri Prométheeovej  brade...Mám stošesť kilometrov!!! Trvalo to 5 a pol hodiny  ale mám to!!! Hneď ma príde ratovať nejaký chlapík, že som sa zrútil z neba...ale reku nič  mi netreba díkes.
Rozbalím stan v opustenej záhrade,   Anton  píše že vyhnil po 15km a že ma zabije,  lebo som jeho rekord  previal,  že v Tbilisi  je búrka  a zajtra bude fučák.

1.9. Vietor mláti stromami,  mraky sa váľajú nízko...ale je chladno,  to bude pofrontálka ako svet. Vydriapem sa po necestách  na prvý  grúň a skáčem do toho s plánom letieť  nazad s vetrom. Fučí  ako svet,  je hodne veľa  cirrov,  altostratov aj lentiliek. Preto sa prvých  30km vybojím do zásoby,  zafúkne ma viac do lesov,  nemôžem  dobrať  výšky  poriadne,  furt prelietam z doliny do doliny tesne ponad stromky...no prdel.

Ale zlepšilo sa to,  deka ide stále so mnou a buď dotáčam posledné prdy, že akurát sa to zatienilo alebo prvé nesmelé stupáky zo svetla. V nejakej dedine ma zbije až po zem ale vyzdvíham sa...vetrík fučí  čisto  západný a silný  ako ďas ale ma aspoň zanáša  dobrým smerom.

Keď preletím  ponad Akhasopeli a vojenskú  základňu...Mám  na tacháči  100km... deku som čiastočne  predbehol,  ale musím loviť po prvých  kopčekoch v doline....zo tri ešte  preletím ale nejde to hore....stačilo  jeden stupák do 1200-1400 a dovejem na hranice..to by bolo 130km a verím že by som tu miestnych nasral ešte tutovejšie. 

Každý  deň  jeden rekord...hahah.

Pristanem  vo vinici,  trochu im ujem hrozna zbalím sa a poďho na stopa do Kvareli,  do hotela bo mam všetko už  vybité,  smrdím sťa  rezident osád  situovaných najmä  na východnom  Slovensku.
Zajtra by mohlo byť  počko  tiež  ale neviem. Žiaden  shmú,  flymet ani xcmeteo tu neveje...pozrieš  a vidíš. Teda meteoblue.com  ide ale stojí  to za prd. Synoptika hlási  níž  v Turecku...bude asi plano a tak aj je...Prší už tri dni tak som si povedal,  niečo Vám napíšem.
Som u Georgia,  molodca z Lagodechy,  čo lieta na rogale,  teda učí sa,  hodne  nasávame a nie je to Kaukazský vzduch.

Píšem  to cez tlf takže  to aj tak vyzerá...fotky sa nedajú upraviť,diakritika nanič...a vôbec....hádam už  zajtra załatame...

Pokračovanie--->

http://www.xcontest.org/slovakia/prelety/detail:durifuk/30.8.2016/08:28

http://www.xcontest.org/slovakia/prelety/detail:durifuk/30.8.2016/08:56

http://www.xcontest.org/slovakia/prelety/detail:durifuk/31.8.2016/06:53

http://www.xcontest.org/slovakia/prelety/detail:durifuk/1.9.2016/08:07