This page contains Central Asia On a Wing and a Lark, Paragliding High Over Telluride, The Black Canyon: A Climber's Dream, and Boating The Gunnison Gorge of the Black Canyon, all published by Bush Publishing in their various magazines and guides.
For photos from Central Asia On a Wing and a Lark please visit either: 2006 galleries or the three full length articles in Articles 2006
Central Asia On a Wing and a Lark
In search of a paragliding Shangra La, my wife Ursula and I explored Central Asia for four months during the summer of 2006. Our trip began with a direct Los Angeles to Beijing flight. Asia never seemed so close. Our first few days we looked up friends, toured the forbidden city, rented bicycles for a day of temple hopping and even pulled off a paragliding flight over the Ming Tombs just outside of town. After our fill of Beijing, we booked tickets on the Trans Siberian and headed north for Mongolia.
Through my company, Adventure Tour Productions, I offer international paragliding tours, and hoped to add Mongolia to my list of destinations. After getting our bearings and flying the local site outside Ulaan Baatar, we climbed into a rented Russian jeep and ventured out into the vast countryside. We quickly discovered the peaceful, empty openness of the steppes. We also found few roads, scattered yurts, or gers as they are called in Mongolian, always off in the distance, and an adventure only paragliding can afford.
While Ursula, with our driver and his wife, drove retrieve, I would hike up a nearby mountain, launch off and see how far I could fly before coming back to earth. Paragliders have no engine, but use thermals to gain altitude and soar like hang gliders and sail planes. With the right conditions and a skilled pilot, paragliders can fly for hours and cover great distance. I hold the Colorado state record with an eight-hour one hundred twenty mile flight from Telluride into Arizona. I was looking for similar potential on this trip.
Through Central Mongolia we lost count of traversed mountain ranges, forded rivers, hiked and flown hills. We visited Kharkhorin in the Ovorkhangai Aimag, Tsetserleg in the Arkhangai Aimag, Uliastai in the Zavkhan Aimag. Some towns, like Tsagaanchuluut, had names longer than main-street. On several flights I got to cloud-base and often did short cross-country adventures, always with Ursula on the radio, finding me when I landed. Well practiced at this game, we soon fell into our rhythm of jeeping, hiking to launch, flying, finding each other and then our next campsite.
After weeks of horrible dirt roads, very few baths (usually in cold streams) and some great flying; our Mongolian improved, we knew all the local dishes and we finally arrived on the edge of the famous Gobi desert.
At this point we went several days without seeing another person and it became clear that very few pilots had the spirit to hike and adventure in a land with such limited infrastructure. I put the paragliding tour plan on hold and hoped to find more likely prospects later in the trip. We fell in love with a country where logistics were simple by necessity. We drove cross-country, taking a route towards a pass in the distant mountains, picking dirt tracks to follow that seemed to go the right direction. We never passed the opportunity to stop and ask directions, invariably invited in to the small round felt gers, fed yogurt and airag (fermented mare's milk), then sent on our way with only a vague idea of where we were headed.
After six weeks and fewer baths, we came upon the border with China. Lost again, below beautiful glaciated peaks, we drove up to an army camp and were detained for questioning. This just meant lying in the grass, handing out cigarettes (we had bought just for this type of occasion) and assuring the guards we were in fact just a couple lost tourists.
After a month and a half our Mongolia adventure ended with an early morning hitchhike across a newly opened border with the Altay Republic, part of the former Soviet Union. Until the previous fall, his border had been closed to foreigners for hundreds of years. Only a handful of tourists, adventurers and serious western travelers had made it across. When we found a small hotel made of wood and borsch on the menu, we knew we had made it into Russia.
Just north of the border, a two-week international paragliding championship was taking place. I was the first American to compete in the event. After the loneliness of Mongolia it was a kick to fly with one hundred thirty other pilots. The social scene was novel as well, with lots of music, drinking and evening volley ball games.
Two Russians and a sponsored Czech pilot asked me to join a team based on the brand of paralgiders we fly. Our Team Gradient International took second, third, sixth and eighth places and easily won the team contest. We regularly flew 100 km tasks lasting four to six hours. On our retrieve we always stopped for beer and bottles of vodka on the long drive back in the dark.
I explained that really I'm not a competition pilot, but they didn't believe me after I took second place one task early in the competition. We met pilots from all over Central Asia and left with contacts and information for the exploring we planned for the next leg of our trip.
Several long bus rides took us first north to Barnaul then south through Kazakhstan and into Kyrgyzstan. Outside Almaty Kazakhstan we joined a hang gliding competition and the local pilots helped us with logistics and more suggestions of where to go.
Originally, this Central Asia trip was inspired by a job I was offered to produce a commercial video for a British Adventure Travel company that runs paragliding tours in Kyrgyzstan. Their tour was canceled after riots broke out in the capitol, Bishkek. With the president deposed and the government in transition, we couldn't get Kyrgyz visas before leaving the United States. Once in the country, we stayed in the relatively calm northern part of the country and found it safe and peaceful.
The small paragliding community in Bishkek took us in and shared their local sites. We made several good friends and finally at the end of the trip we found the paragliding paradise we had been searching for. According to our Lonely Planet guidebook, Kyrgyzstan is ninety-four percent mountainous and forty percent of the country is over three thousand meters (almost ten thousand feet). This topography is a dream for a mountain pilot like myself. There are also roads to many high passes and high points, which makes finding a launch much easier.
The locals are Muslim and less nomadic than in Buddhist Mongolia, but ethnically they are very similar. The Russian influence is limited and their yurts are larger like the Kazakhs. Thankfully, they have more vegetables in their diet, and are just as welcoming and friendly as Mongolians.
We spent some time in the Suusamyr Valley, a few hours west of the capitol. We camped and flew with a couple local pilots, as well as an American ex-pat and a New Zealand policeman. The weather was mixed and everyday strong thunderstorms, snow and rain drove us to the ground. Still, flying during the breaks in the weather was spectacular and the month of exploring Kyrgyzstan passed all to quickly.
Our tiny rented 4x4 Niva never let us down, even on the worst roads. We visited the Sari Kamysh, Kyrgz Alatau, Kara Katta and the Terskey Alatau Ranges; and also the historic town of Karakol near the hundred seventy kilometer long Issyk-Kul Lake which is surrounded on all sides by glaciated mountains.
The most spectacular flying I have found anywhere was above the base camp for Khan Tengri. There we took horses up four thousand feet to a high pass and a beautiful launch. I flew above glacier filled valleys accompanied by huge eagles.
We left the mountains in a late summer blizzard and felt our trip coming to an end. A challenging week of travel overland by train and bus across China took us back to Beijing. After a day soaring over the Great Wall at what felt like an amusement park or Disney Land attraction, we headed back home exhausted and exhilarated with memories that will last our lifetimes.
Paragliding High Over Telluride
Paragliding from the top of the Telluride ski area is world famous, considered the best flying site in the United States. More than three thousand feet above Telluride, the Gold Hill ridge has consistent lift and high cloud-base, just what soaring pilots are looking for.
The west side of the ridge faces the far off La Sal Mountains in Utah and is perfect for afternoon conditions. The east face over Bear Creek provides our morning launch. The Telluride Air Force club truck leaves early in the morning for the forty-five minute drive up the mountain.
Equipment consists of a reserve parachute, radio, helmet, GPS and a vario, which tells us how high we are. Pilots also use breathing oxygen if they plan to fly high. All this gear, including canopy and harness, fits into a large backpack, which weighs forty to fifty pounds.
Canopies are spread out. Then one by one pilots pull their wings into the air and with a short run become air-born. Leaving the ground is magic and never loses its fascination. Immediately there is nothing but huge air below your feet. We begin our search for thermals or columns of rising air, and turn in these to gain altitude.
Early in the day the lift is weak and hard to stay in. After the sun warms the ground more, we find thermals that carry us skyward at as much sixteen hundred feet per minute, fast enough to make your ears pop. Clouds show where a thermal is strong enough to reach cloud-base.
Above fifteen thousand feet the view of the San Juan Mountains stretching out below us is spectacular. Over seventeen thousand feet we begin to ponder the cross-country flying potential. Paragliders fly so slowly we can land in very small areas. This helps when flying cross-country, where we don't know in advance where we will land.
The regular cross-country route flies along the Sneffels Range on the way to Ridgway. The flight to Silverton crosses even more remote and spectacular mountains. Of course we don't have to land in town and flights beyond Blue Mesa Reservoir, Durango, Del Norte in the San Luis Valley and even into Arizona have been done, taking as long as eight hours. All of this is accomplished without motor, using only the solar powered lift of invisible but massive thermals.
The idea of playing with only a fabric canopy, ultra thin spectra lines and the suns energy that regularly lifts huge quantities of water tens of thousands of feet into the air is pretty wild. Cumulous nimbus clouds can tower to forty five thousand feet and hold as much water as a large reservoir. Imagine the energy needed to carry all that water so far up into the sky in just a few hours. No wonder most pilots choose to not fly in midday summer conditions in the high mountains.
We circle up to cloud-base and eventually cross the valley high over Telluride looking for the elusive lift above the San Sophia Ridge. High again, the view into Yankee Boy Basin, across at fourteen thousand foot Mount Sneffels and beyond towards Ouray is breathtaking. After two hours in the air it's time to join our friends who have already landed back in Telluride.
Over the middle of the valley we do some wingovers and spirals dives to lose altitude. The G-forces are a surprise after such a relaxing flight. Soon we are on final, coming in to land. With our feet as our landing gear extended below us, we flare the glider just above the ground and step gently to the earth once again. Reunited with our earthbound friends, only the smiles on our faces tell the tales of adventure high in the skies above Telluride.
The Black Canyon: A Climber's Dream
The Black Canyon of the Gunnison just up Highway 50 from Montrose is justifiably a National Monument. The statistics, two thousand feet deep yet only fifteen hundred feet across, tell part of the story. To really appreciate the grandeur of this place one must descend into the depths of the canyon then scale one of the many huge walls using technical climbing and the proper equipment. Most routes are free climbed, where equipment is placed and ropes and belays are used only for safety in case of a fall. Several of the bigger walls have routes where aid climbing is used to ascend, and gear is not only used to protect a fall, but also to aid upward progress. Even easy routes are long and scary. The granite is crisscrossed with pegmatite bands, which climbers find hard to protect, and loose rock is part of the norm. A typical day in the "Black" begins early, as even short routes here are big. Rising on the north side are the Chasm View Wall and the biggest rock face in Colorado, the Painted Wall. On the south side challenging climbs like AstroDog and the Falcon Wall follow cracks and dihedrals upward for ten to twelve rope lengths. The technical grades of these routes are Grade V 5.11 or 5.12. Both rims of the canyon have winding roads and lots of overlooks that offer many opportunities to peer into the depths of The Black, but be careful and don't get too close to the edge!
Boating The Gunnison Gorge of the Black Canyon
Deep within the dark recesses of the Black Canyon of the Gunnison lies a raging river. The lower half of this stretch of river, the Gunnison Gorge, is a regular outing for both kayakers and rafters. Every summer, boaters make the long trek deep into the lower reaches of the Black Canyon of the Gunnison to partake in some of the most exciting whitewater and amazing scenery in this part of the State. Rated Class III with water levels above seven hundred cubic feet per second, the trip is an all day outing. The approach is via the steep and winding Chukar trail, which is over a mile long. While kayakers often drag their plastic boats, rafters have to arrange horses to pack in their gear. The thirteen and a half mile run winds through beautiful white granite walls with lots of fun class three rapids and pool drops. Kayakers and rafters alike find themselves refreshingly wet from waves that drench them with chilly Colorado snowmelt. After several miles, boaters eddy-out at one of the many sandy beaches to enjoy a break and lunch. Often kayakers find perfect play waves and holes where they can practice tricks surfing and spinning in the hydraulics. Especially memorable are the dramatic granite boulders along the way. Because the river is damn release it remains possible to boat for most of the summer. After leaving the tight canyon behind, the river becomes gentler. The take out is at the Gunnison River Pleasure Park near Delta.
Go to Forty Days Over Mongolia, A Paragliding Expedition to the Lands of Ghengis Khan.
Go to Dateline Kurai, Altay Republic: The Russian Paragliding Championships.
Go to A The Celelstial Tien Shan of Kyrgyzstan: Between Mountains and Sky.
Go to Paragliding In The Callejon De Huaylas.
Go to Paragliding Huaraz Peru.
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