The Czech Republic might not the first place that you’d associate with the term “paragliding mecca”. But the facts are: 275 Km flown this May, 309Km over in Poland and some world-class manufacturers. And the interest extends beyond paragliding: Czech has produced writers like Kundera and Kafka, and Leo’s 3 year old Czech “girlfriend” from the UK was also on holiday there. We’d never been before, so we just had to take a look.
We deserted sunny England on Saturday 12th of July, just as the weather was starting to look good for the next day. Reaching the Dutch coast, we then flew across an unbroken sheet of cloud that, in retrospect, seemed to linger over Czech for the next week. “The worst summer for 10 years”, said our Czech friend.
By the following Friday, I was getting agitated. Until then, I’d been content to earn some “brownie points” with the family, and the cool and cloudy weather had been good for hiking. But—what’s this?—halfway through the holiday and no sign of a good XC day? This morning, I’d seen my first bit of blue sky and watched a couple of birds of prey gracefully take a thermal from our campsite to a couple of thousand feet. A good omen? The afternoon was showery, but the wind had backed west and the dominant weather pattern looked to be finally on the move. A 20Km to drive to the nearest internet cafe confirmed that there was half a chance of a flight the next day at Kozakov. Meanwhile, the thrash metal concert at our campsite that night provided an outlet for some angst.
The next morning, we dragged ourselves out of bed and arrived at Kozakov just after lunch. A couple of gliders had just slowly sunk out, and we stopped to check the terrain and give them a lift back up. Tomas, a local pilot, spoke English and gave us a warm reception. I felt like I was no longer on a trip, but at home with long lost family and friends. Such is the nature of the sport of paragliding outside the main “para-resorts”.
On arriving at the top of the hill, I was surprised to find a pub and a hotel, complete with a wedding reception in full-swing. I resolved to save the beer for a post-flight reward. I rigged my glider and pondered which of the two shallow, rotor-y take-offs I would choose in the SW wind:
A: SSW, slightly less rotor-y, but more shallow (shallower than my glide angle?).
B: WSW, more rotor-y, but (relatively) steeper.
By the time I’d decided (and been advised) that option A. was the best of a bad choice, the curtain of heavy rain out front had almost arrived. The only sensible thing left to do was to pack away and wait.
Eventually, the shower cleared and the sun came out to play. I then had a nice hour with my new friends. In the air, as on the ground, I like the way the Czechs behave: one or two free-spirits unashamedly yelling “whoopee”, or flying without helmets, but with good sensible airmanship at the same time. I met Ludek, who was on holiday in his native Czech, and currently lives in London. He too was feeling the weather blues, and we arranged to fly XC together any/all flyable days during the next week. The next day (Sunday) was looking windy and showery, but pressure was due to build towards the end of the week, with a light and favourable S flow.
Sunday, I made an error of judgement. My phonecard had run out so I couldn’t call Ludek. And since Saturday’s flight had alleviated my ground-bound mania, I decided to go for a walk with the family, on the basis that the forecast for the back end of the week was promising (Czech weather is more predictable than British, right?). But then, Sunday’s showers didn’t show, and even my wife was asking my why I wasn’t flying. I found out later that the best flight from Kosakov had been 84K.
The rest of the week turned out to be a disaster, weather-wise. Not even a sniff of a flyable day. To add insult to injury, the weather was epic right after we left on Friday. 237K on Sunday 27th, and then on Monday 28th July, the European record was broken (subject to paperwork) with a flight of 335 km by Karel Vejchodsky (on a serial wing!). And 17 pilots flew over 100K!. Gutted.
Flying apart, we had a fantastic holiday and made some good friends. Czechs are a warm, modest yet noble people and the landscape is beautiful.
I’d like to go back, but I don’t know when. I wouldn’t say no “getting blown” 200K off a tow. But the flatlands of the South are less suited to being the venue for the family holiday. And anyway, flying is about more than just counting the Kms.
My Czech friends tell me that Slovenia is the place to go. I wouldn’t argue with that—even French legend Patrick Berod runs courses there! With only a good 6 weeks left of prime XC flying in the UK, and listening now to the sound of rain spattering the window, I feel like planning our next trip? Why not dream a little?
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