By Neil Evans

I don't know where to start, so I'll start from the beginning.

I got home from work at about 8:33am (I work night shifts). The day was looking pretty good early. I chatted with my wife, Naomi, till about 11:07am, then slept till 1:03pm. That's as precise as this day gets. I didn't look at my watch again until after 9:30pm when I got home.

I got over to the launch at Blackheath and the clouds were looking pretty good. I thought, "I'll just boat around for an hour or so, then go home and cook that roast lamb I said I'd cook. After all, I'll only be gone for two hours and I would only have been sleeping anyway - Naomi will hardly notice me gone".

There were quite a few pilots, both hang and para, out for a day of flying in the Blue Mountains. I got busy stuffing battens and having the odd chat. About half way through my set-up a couple of paragliders launched and bombed out. About three-quarters of the way through my set-up another couple of paragliders launched and stayed up. As I was fully set-up and getting my harness ready, five paragliders were at about 500ft above.

Derek started to clip-in, mentioning something like, "It looks like the easterly is about to come in". I clipped in and walked down to the ramp. Stefan gave Derek and I a hang check, then clipped in himself. There was little wind on launch, so we waited for a cycle. The bushes started to rustle, so I wished Derek a good flight and said I would meet him at cloudbase. (As if! I had not been to cloudbase for far too long to think I would do it today. My last time at cloudbase was standing on the highway at Blackheath on the second day of the interclub comp.) After concentrating and keying himself in, Derek launched and got in amongst the five paragliders already airborne. The next good cycle came up and I got out there too.

I started going up as I headed north along the ridge, then lost it. I headed north-west along the spine, as I often find lift off the tree line in front of the ridge. I felt a few little bubbles, so scratched around thinking, "Gee I'm glad I left my flight suit in the car or I'd really be sweating". I was turning quite sharply and noticed Derek had skied out, though all the paragliders were still only about 500ft above launch. Then I came across some good lift. I went with it to above launch, then just went straight up. I looked down and thought, "They're all a bit low!" before reading 7500ft on my vario and realising it was just that I was so high.

The clouds above didn't look vicious, so I kept going. I saw Stefan launch from the ramp, and Derek wasn't far below me. I got up to 8000ft, saw a bit of the wispy stuff and radioed ground letting them know the height of cloudbase. I asked how everyone on the ground was enjoying the flies, hoping to entice people off the hill, not knowing that the wind on launch had turned tail and everyone was stranded. I got to about 8300ft above launch, so figured I might have enough height to get over Victoria Pass. As I was on my way over I actually went up to 8500ft - convergence is a wonderful thing.

I was mucking around on Mount York when Derek turned up. We discussed where to go; I thought we could head over to Bathurst and maybe give Sandy a flying visit. We then heard on the radio that Stefan was at Mt Victoria. It was about then Rosie raised a good point: how did we think we were going to get picked up? We hadn't thought about that minor detail... After all, my previous best from Blackheath had only been to Little Hartley. So, Jim, Rosie and Stefan's partner Saska (not sure of the spelling, sorry if I've got that wrong, she is a lovely girl from Slovakia not Slovenia which is separated by Hungary and I have looked at the globe now and seen my error) set out to chase us. We were over the next ridge now and someone asked if we were over Hassans Walls. I looked down and all I could see were rocks with trees on them, so I answered, "I think so". I must admit I thought I was over everything, including the moon. The lift was still good, the three of us were together and I was starting to climb up the western edge of a cloud to 9500ft. I was also starting to feel cold - maybe the T-shirt wasn't such a good idea - and I was longing for my flight suit back in my car. It also highlighted for me the need for a new harness, as the zippers in my harness have a tendency to split open at an awkward place making my small bits even smaller.

The three of us were over Lithgow and Derek mentioned something about going to Lithgow Hospital. I was stoked with the idea, shaking in my harness due to the cold. However we got more lift and headed for the turn-off to Mudgee. More lift there took me from a nice warm 6500ft back up to 8000ft - "brrr". Stefan called over the radio, asking whether we should go to Bathurst or head to Mudgee. I mentioned that we had thought of going to Mount Ovens at Bathurst, but if they thought conditions better suited Mudgee we could go there. At this point my words weren't coming out too well, so I started doing times tables in my head to keep an eye on hyperthermia. Stefan called Mudgee and headed off from 9000ft. I realised that the Mudgee turn-off was right below us; 8000ft was cold enough for me so off I went with Stefan and Derek 1000ft above.

I must say the views out there were amazing. Along the way I flew directly over the single stacked power station, which allowed me to feel my hands again. I thought about flying to the second power station, but there didn't seem too many landing areas between the two, so I tried a hill with some exposed rocks that looked like it might work. I got a few little bubbles, but unfortunately wasn't able to get back up. Luckily for Stefan, being 400ft above me, he hooked in and got away again. I wasn't quite sure where Derek was, but he flew over the top at some stage.

I was still a good height above my chosen landing paddock and saw power lines everywhere. You'd think being so close to a power station the houses could just run on radiated electricity. I was thankful to the lady with a goat farm and a long, slightly sloping paddock. I came in to land and realised my legs were dead. I'm sure they didn't move on their own; I reckon' the excess power from the power station and some mind bending ESP control I read in a sci-fi novel once made my legs rotate. I packed up, chatted to the land owner and waited next to the town sign (Blackman Flat). I was glad to soon hear Jim's voice over the radio talking to Derek. My first cross-country pick up in years. Thanks Jim and Rosie, and Stefan for the vehicle. We loaded up and headed off after the others.

We headed towards Mudgee with bits and pieces of information from both airborne pilots (helpful things like, children's play area, a big hill, lots of trees, I don't know where I am). I felt lucky I landed near a town sign. We also passed the Moyes gang going the other way with a car load of gliders. Stefan was next down; he landed on a big hill which Rosie knew was Cherry Tree Hill (also the turn-off to Sofala). We found Stefan quite easily. He had picked what looked to be a smooth, rounded hill to land on. As Stefan found out, Cherry Tree Hill is rounded, but by no means smooth. It is covered in huge rocks, deep ruts, tall bushes and thistles. Well, a broken upright wasn't bad considering the conditions, and what a flight - in the words of Stefan, "Simply unbelievable". That about summed the whole day up.

After loading Stefan's stuff, it was off to find Derek who'd also landed. Going down the northern side of Cherry Tree Hill, Jim mentioned something about needing fuel soon, but Stefan assured him you could drive a hundred kilometres with the red light on, and the red light hadn't come on yet. After about five kilometres down the road we couldn't get Derek at all, so turned around and headed back south. We got back in contact with him, finding him a couple of kilometres short of where Stefan had landed. All three of us were stoked.

After loading everything up, we headed back towards Blackheath and the Ivanhoe Pub to brag. Passing a petrol station Jim offered to pull in, but Stefan said to keep going to Lithgow, so on we went. On to Cullen Bullen, anyway. That was about where the fuel ran out. It was Jim's fault for not seeing the red light sooner or driving more efficiently; it was Derek's fault for us driving five kilometres past Cherry Tree Hill; it was my fault for being there; and there are many more reasons for us running out of fuel. I reckon' it was because we flew so far. Anyway, thanks to Gregor, who was having a perfectly good time at home, who came to our rescue with a jerry can of diesel. While Gregor was on his way I nicked up to the Cullen Bullen pub and picked up some beer and chips. Then we were on our way again, home. I think everyone was trying to help my glide performance, because I got the seat in the back while everyone enjoyed the chips up in the cab. Thanks for that.

We got back to the Ivanhoe at about 9:00pm, finding that everyone else who had flown that day had already left - there is no staying power in some people. Stefan gave me a lift back to launch to pick up my car. I got back home at 9:30pm. Thankfully Naomi said she didn't want me to start cooking the roast.

What a day!

Thank you to everyone involved: Stefan and Derek for showing me the way; Jim and Rosie for the retrieve; Gregor for running fuel out to us; Saska for joining in on the fun; and Naomi for not minding about the roast. I am very humbled and proud to have friends like all of you.