I wake up, lay out my tent in the sun to dry off the moisture. Not sure what to make of Slovenia COVID-blacklisting Switzerland. Stick to my goal? Change plans? I pack up my gear & get going. One last check that I didn’t forget anything? Let it be, don’t have anything to forget.
I hike up to Crap Sogn Gion. In the summit restaurant I grab a sandwich and charge batteries for a while.
At the launch, I lay out my tent to dry. I wonder where I left the tent pole? How useless is a tent without its poles. Let’s not dwell on that.
The wind on takeoff is shifty. A rigid wing starts its takeoff run. “Not looking good”, I think as his wingtip catches on the steep slope. The glider violently yaws sideways. A brief, rasping noise as expensive pieces of kit break off. A half dozen pilots run to help. The pilot seems ok. In a group effort, what’s left of his glider is carried up the slope. Wounded dragon.
I launch and core a spicy thermal amongst other glider and the obstacle posed by the cable car. I point my nose west.
Why west? Every veteran pilot I asked advised me to not try to cross the valley to head south directly, but to at least do head west an hour before trying – thereby reducing the risk of sinking into the stability and getting gobbled up by nasty valley winds. Going east doesn’t look promising either, considering headwinds and terrain.
The going is good. I’m heading west at quite a clip. And high: 3500 m asl. I don’t feel like turning around to head south and then east. Besides, if Slovenia is off the menu (COVID quarantine?), I have more time. I decide to follow the flow westwards. The weather forecast for tomorrow in Fiesch is really good, and I feel deprived of good flying. Why not take a break from hiking? I will throw in a day or two of pure xc distance flying, solve the tent pole issue, and figure out what to do with Slovenia.
There are two mountain passes between me and Fiesch. These are fairly unflyable in strong northerly conditions. I decide to try. I approach Oberalp pass high and proud. An easy glide I think. Until the north wind slams into me. My sink alarm goes off and I’m losing altitude at 4.3 meters per second. I point my nose south and push my speed bar, trying to outrun the lee. But I’m getting tossed around like a rag doll. For a few moments I feel it doesn’t make a difference in which direction my nose is pointing.
I reach the opposing slope and the sink turns to zero. The air has to go somewhere, it can’t just drill through the opposing mountain flank. It remains super turbulent. I cross to Gemsstock, and manage to find some usable lift. But it’s not reaching high enough to get out of the stability. Also, the rodeo I just experienced has dissolved my desire for more of the same at the even nastier Grimsel pass. I land in Realp, coming down nearly vertically in the wind.
From here there’s a train that goes directly into a tunnel, to reappear near Fiesch. I take it.