Milazzo!

By Enrico

The group of the Austrian pilots, headed by Robert and Gudrun, were the first to reach the little square, lining up their Paragliders in front of the "Ali del Peloro" club house. Shortly after, Spedito and I joined in and the line of sacs grew longer. Finally, Marcantonio arrived from Messina with the van and we all boarded it, without even asking what the plan was!

As a matter of fact, even our Guide cum Driver was a bit lost, as strong winds are of little use for any flying site whatsoever! The group of flying enthusiasts had however swamped the van and poor Marcantonio had no choice but to start the engine and begin driving, to calm them down...

Marcantonio's great knowledge of winds, flying sites and... Sicilian acquaintances were however put at work, and as we entered the Messina-Catania highway, he started phoning around. The chatting and laughing immediately came to a halt, with everyone paying the utmost attention to his calls, which were always accompanied by his hilarious gestures.

"No, it's no good at Bagnara" he sentenced to my dismay, "wind's too strong there!". I was still daydreaming about my epic flight there, during my previous trip to Sicily - a three hour thermalling flight sending me 1200 metres above the Strait of Messina and where I had covered an out and return distance of 26 kilometres!

I translated the bad news in English to Gudrun and she relayed the message to the Austrian Pilots, in German. A deep silence followed, while Marcantonio was elaborating the next strategic move...

The next call was to verify what we kind of suspected already: conditions at Sperone, near Messina, were not good either, with a bad crosswind. But Marcantonio had not played all his cards yet...

"Pronto?", he went again while tension in the van was mounting. "Milazzo...?". This time his friend there reported a low wind in town...

"Hey, move your ass then, quick....!" he went again, in his picturesque Sicilian slang, 'ordering' his friend, without caring too much for good manners, to go to the take-off site and assess the wind for us. At that point I was expecting his friend to send him to hell... Apparently however, he was so used to Marcantonio's way of talking that he accepted the joke and immediately set off for the take-off place!

Our Austrian friends were surprised too at the tone of this conversation and were wondering what was happening, but had a good laugh after my picturesque translation. Well, in the end that was the first not-so-bad news of the day! The long drive continued and, a good while later, a call was received from Milazzo...

Hooray!!! He confirmed the wind was straight up and moderate on take-off!

The trip continued in a much happier mood, with everybody impatiently watching the road and enquiring about the arrival time. I could not help much, being it the first time ever I went to Milazzo, so everybody had to depend on Marcantonio's elusive indications.

Finally, the Milazzo bay appeared at a distance. What a site! Imagine a few miles long, half-a-mile wide stretch of land - a low ridge rising right in the middle - extending straight into a deep blue sea... Marcantonio usually drives fast, but that time he literally went shooting through the narrow and winding city roads, horning and screeching the wheels of the poor van at every road junction!

God knows how he could find his way through that maze of lanes... He never went wrong however and after squeezing through a series of narrow points and short cuts, the 'shaken' group of Pilots could stop, in relief, to a bay near the end of the Milazzo ridge. Everybody quickly alighted and walked to the edge of a steep slope falling some 100 metres straight down into the sea.

Marcantonio's friend was there already and he briefed the group about the flight. By then, whoever had not been scared yet by the insane driving, started worrying at the description of long cliffs next to the bay, without any landing below... On seeing the worried faces, Marcantonio volunteered for a demonstration flight and launched, skimming the steep slope in the light breeze. He barely managed to keep afloat, and soon landed back on take-off. That looked easy and a couple of Austrian pilots immediately wanted to do the same... They struggled for a while over the slopes until... slowly they lost the lift and went down to land on a tiny beach full of rocks!

Things improved in time, with the wind slowly picking up. More people launched and soon a gaggle of Paragliders was flying side-by-side in a limited area of lift. Spedito and I, not too keen in flying in such a crowd, choose to wait. Our time came when the wind increased further and the gaggle started spreading over a larger area.

I took off without much of a problem and started slowly making my way up. A good half-an-hour later, conditions had improved to the point that I could easily soar over the whole bay, pushing up to its extreme point, on the right of the bay. On the left side, a rocky spur was marking the end of the bay and the beginning of the next one and was releasing a good lift. We had been warned however that, if this bay had a narrow landing, the next one had none at all! So I was a little hesitant to cross over...

The temptation however was very high, as the long cliff extending after the next bay and rising higher and higher over a deep sea was a promise of great soaring... It didn't take long in fact, before I had made up my mind. I climbed as high as possible over the spur and started crossing the next bay, holding my breath & By the time I reached the other side, I had lost a good deal of height but was still above the cliff top and the lift was coming back. All my attention was now on the variometer, and its constant beeping was the most reassuring thing I could possibly have...

I was gaining height as I went further and further but the cliff edge was also rising, so the end result was of finding myself practically at a constant height over its top! At the end of the cliff - I was a mile away from take-off already - I found a big hill with steep slopes and a repeater tower on top. As I got closer, the lift improved further and in a couple of passes I could double my height, to my relief!

That was it! With some nice height to spare, I was ready for a safe return journey to the take off point! And so, back I went, flying at a comfortable height, which allowed me to relax, enjoy the amazing view and take some photographs. To my surprise, I reached the take-off place with a lot of height to spare, to find the flying gaggle soaring well below me!

Being not too happy with the low flying and the crowd, before long I was on my way back to the hill again... This time I was more at ease and confident, even though I knew I had no emergency landings at the foot of the cliff. On reaching the hill, I wanted this time to gain as much height as possible and after a series of passes I ended up well over the top of the repeater!

The view angle from that height was such that it spanned from the take off place, one mile to the right, to... the town of Milazzo, a couple of miles to the left!! That's how I could spot, beyond the hill, a large bay followed by a huge, flat beach leading to the town of Milazzo. I spent a good while working out the best possible route through the wide bay, which would provide no lift and only deep waters...

Finally, the decision was taken and I set off for the long crossing, trying to streamline my body and releasing at the same time the brakes to achieve the best possible glide angle. For a long time I watched the deep waters of the bay slowly moving underneath until, to my relief, the other side of the bay was reached.

At that point, I could either aim for the inviting sandy beach, extending for miles in front of me, or... yes this time I really wanted to push my luck and aimed for the low ridge rising quite far behind the beach.

"Reaching the ridge ought to be easy", I was thinking, "with the good tailwind pushing me". What I was not too sure about was whether I would find lift over it... The worst scenario was already passing in front of my mind, with myself losing height, unable to penetrate back into the wind and landing on the flat fields below, in the severe turbulence caused by the houses lining the beach...

With a shiver, I shifted my attention to the fast approaching ridge, aimed for the highest point and... really prayed for lift! My height was fast reducing and I was nearly levelled with the top of the ridge, when... Bingo! My variometer, which had been dramatically silent since I left the repeater, started finally beeping!! To my relief, I started a series of passes over the slopes, daring not to move away - I was finally climbing and that was enough for me!

Only upon attaining a comfortable height I ventured along the ridge, heading towards the Castle of Milazzo, an old fortress built on top of the last hill, just before the outskirts of the town. Along the way my height reduced considerably but I insisted and upon reaching the castle I could start climbing again!

Wow, what a feat! I was finally soaring over the castle, the farthermost point of the long Milazzo ridge, and in good view of the whole town, nicely sprawled below my feet! There was no other place to go from there, other than going back, but I felt I had pushed my luck far enough for the day. A long soaring flight followed, during which I received an unexpected visit: good ol' Marcantonio had made it to the castle too!

He made a few passes along with me, then left for the nearby beach where other Pilots and Spedito had meanwhile landed. I remained alone again and continued enjoying my flight, relaxing and taking photographs, until the sun started dipping in a glowing golden sea...

Only then I realised I was cold and tired. Yes, the time had come to put my long soaring flight to an end. On leaving the hill, I headed straight towards the beach in a dramatic twilight - my eyes wide open! - and gently touched down next to Spedito, after a memorable three-hour soaring flight!