It won’t be the last time I fly The Meadows but it’s coming.
Dear God….It’s been over a month since my last confession, flight #1156. I did penance by sailing a boat at walking pace from South America to Key West. So….I’ve got that going for me. Right?
The first thing I noticed, driving out to the LZ, was power poles. Hundreds of 50 footers sprouting up like a giant Punji Trap for Paragliders. Soon, they would be connected with power lines, dividing my patch into a web of city blocks where the, “low and slow”, would be, “dead and gone”.
My favorite intersection had become a “no go”. The poles closed off any escape to the North and the numerous copse of trees to the South were just too close together for comfort. I could still launch here and ninety nine times out of a hundred it would be flawless. But….
I’ve lost landing zones before. Some I flew for years before civilization pushed me out. Some were short term opportunities where developers had cleared the land and created a space that I could exploit for a few weeks. Some became home base where I could hang with my buddies and share our passion.
Eventually each one dissolved into the mist of the, “Good Ol Days”. It’s the way of a Paragliders life. Enjoy it while you’ve got it and when they kick you out … find someplace else.
But when ya gotta go, ya gotta go
There’s always someone, don’tcha know
Hanging around and sayin, we’ll I told ya so
Back in The Goodle days
And the Goodle Days
Are past and gone
A lot of good people have done gone on
And that’s my life when I sing this song
About back in the goodle days.
Credit: John Hartford