Low Saves In Mexico

Once again I succumb to the temptation to escape the persistent inverted gray skies of the Mid-Columbia and scurry off to the delightful sub-tropical pilot's paradise, Valle de Bravo, Mexico. This year Maggie decided to visit her friend Cathy in Arizona for "Winter Break" so I was to be on my own.

How to play it? Join Preacher and the Seattle crowd, stay in town at a local pilots hang out? Sounds pretty cool, not sure how to get to Valle from Mexico City, but they seem to be able to do it. Transportation is supposedly easy enough with the local taxi fleet, the restaurants serve a delicious regional batch of favorite foods, good times with the Washington folks down south!

Or, maybe it is time to try a real competition--the Monarca. Might as well give it a shot, touch bases with Rob and the merry band of comp pilots and chum around with them. Over my head a bit, but I'm told the best way to really learn to fly a paraglider is do do some comps. They always schedule the Monarca when they figure Valle will be at its best.

Or, speaking of Rob, maybe just do another one of his tours. For two weeks preceding the comp he and his "band of merry men" (this year it included three pilots who won a day at last year's world's paragliding championships as well as the woman who holds the current world's record paragliding distance flight, amongst other talented instructors) rent a big casa outside of town and host visiting pilots. Kevin does the cooking, Raul drives the retrieve van, and pilots get intensive coaching. This option is a bit more spendy, but, one often gets what one pays for.

After talking with several of my paragliding mentors I decided to go on tour again with Rob. Maybe it is just the wanna-be perennial student in me, but having the opportunity to get that level of instruction from people with that much experience and ability just seems like a fair value, and, Kevin is rather an exceptional cook. And I don't like haggling with taxi drivers, nor am I fond of restaurants. Furthermore, my memory of the casa as a lovely relaxing place with a bunch of happy friendly pilots had pretty much made up my mind before I even got started cogitating.

Turned out to be a wonderful choice. I ended up with hours and hours of long flights, playing about in the clouds, with excellent feedback and mentoring from outstanding teachers. The food and company were great, and I rarely needed a taxi except to cruise into town to visit with Preacher. I even had two exceptional "low saves." Low saves are one of the real high points of paragliding. A low save happens when you are running out of altitude, which during a cross country flight often means that you are coming to the end of the fun part of the day. Landing seems imminent, you have picked your place to set down, maybe even have your feet down, and are pretty much set to admit defeat and be ground bound once again. Then, at seemingly the last possible moment, you run into a thermal and manage to pull off a turn and start to go up again!

Usually, thermals are quite rowdy that close to the ground, difficult to negotiate and quite spanky. One often gets "worked" working a thermal that low, and it takes more concentration and determination than usual to stick with it and keep flying. But with luck and grace sometimes it works, and after a bit of a struggle you are back up to the clouds and back in the game. I managed two of these during my week in Mexico, both from very low down in hard to get home from places, and relished them both like a desert straggler would a cold glass of water. Low saves make you feel like a hero, they fill you with thanks and awe and wonder. They make you quiver with excitement and gush with happiness. The jolt from hopelessness, misery, and defeat to elation, success and joy is almost indescribable.

What seemed impossible moments ago is now within your grasp. Your horizon has literally expanded to meet your imagination. You were lost, imprisoned by gravity, stuck in a rut, pinned down, going nowhere. Now you are free again to dream some more, high on life, alive and headed somewhere. Back where you belong and living large. Leaving hot, sweating, stinking fear below and arriving at cool, clear, smiling laughter above. A quick trip from the gates of hell to the doorstep of heaven.

Yeah, I am exceeding fond of low saves. They are rare enough to be appreciated in a special way. I remember quite clearly one in particular that was over ten years ago, recall the hawk that showed me the way out and up. They move you suddenly into a separate reality, a numinal space where you cannot ignore the miracle of your incredible good fortune. A unique brief salvation
and answer to your prayers, whether they were unspoken or screamed in despair. Awesome, humbling, they can leave you nearly spent and trembling.

The rest of the flying was pretty decent as well, popping in and out of the edge of the clouds, finding lots of great climbs, and making the long glide to the landing zone at the lake.














All in all a great winter get away. A refreshing and transforming adventure. Much thanks to Rob, Farmer, Erik, Trey, Kevin, Brad, and all the rest. Had a pretty good afternoon and evening visiting with Preacher in town too, good on ya mate and good flying with you as well!

------Doc