26. Flachlandfliegen - Armin Harich

But I always say, if you're almost washed up at the beginning, like you're really at rock bottom, then you can be sure it's going to be a really good flight, because you're so inoculated that you just take everything in, you're not messing around anymore, and you hardly have a chance of washing up again unless you start being reckless again.

Podz-Glidz, the Lu-Glidz podcast.

Stories from the cosmos of paragliding.

Today with... Harmin Harich... and Lucian Haas at the microphone. Anyone interested in paraglider cross-country flying in the lowlands and mid-range mountains will quickly come across a name. Harmin Harich. He was the first to complete a flight of over 300 kilometers in Germany. That was in 2014 and caused a double sensation at the time, because Harmin flew a Tequila -4, which is a normal EMB glider. It was proof that you don't have to fly a high-performance hotshot to set records. A year earlier, he had already completed a completely closed FAI triangle over 144 km. That's a record too. However, Harmin is convinced that anyone could do it. You just have to have the right passion, start at the right place at the right time, and then simply stay in the air long enough.

Harmin is happy to explain how it works. In his own lectures, in exciting re-analyses of his flights as so-called "explainer bear" videos, and also in this podcast, where I'll walk through a cross-country flight in the lowlands with him from takeoff to landing, and even the return journey. But Armin's story has many other interesting facets besides paragliding. Today 50-year-old Armin started his sports career at age 10, became a competitive canoe athlete, and was even a German junior champion before he took to the skies. Later, he co-founded the Skywalk brand with others and took over the management of the Flightsurfer kite division, for which he also works as a designer. How kitesurfing and paragliding complement each other and can, in a sense, inspire one another is also discussed in this episode of Podz-Glidz.

Before we get started, just a quick note. While the Podz-Glidz podcast and the content of my blog LOGLIGHTS are freely available, that doesn't mean I'm giving them away for free. So, if you enjoy what I do here, if you find joy and value in the information and interviews, then I'd appreciate your support for my work. How much you want to give as a contribution is entirely up to you. If you're unsure, I recommend a non-binding guideline of one euro per podcast episode and two euros per reading month on LOGLIGHTS. Payments are easy to make via PayPal or bank transfer. You can find the relevant details on the LOGLIGHTS website, specifically on the Support page. Now, I hope you enjoy the show and, above all, find interesting insights and takeaways from the conversation with Armin Harig.

Enjoy!

Armin, in Germany, as of today—today, while we're recording this exact podcast—there's been a flight ban due to the coronavirus for exactly 14 days. What has been the longest period so far that you've had to go without flying, or have endured without flying, for whatever reason?

Pretty long. I mean, at times I haven't flown for almost years. There were times I didn't fly for years because I was so busy with the setup of Flysurfen and all that, so I was out kiting a lot. For years, I actually didn't fly at all, or maybe one or two flights a year, and so on. And I only started flying regularly again, and getting more interested in cross-country flying again, about seven, eight, or nine years ago—I don't know exactly anymore. That was exactly when we had proposed an e-bog. And I was allowed to do some presentations back then. And then we put the project on ice for a while. And then I just flew without a motor, just imagining I had an e-bog. And that went relatively well. How important is flying to you personally, actually? I think it's beautiful, but of course, there are other beautiful things you can experience. So, doing sports is already an important thing for your health.

Kitesurfing. Being out in nature. Experiencing things. Understanding nature. Understanding the world. There are many facets to it.

And how did you get into flying originally? When was that?

Wow, I started in 1989. Back then, I was a competitive canoe athlete. I was even a German champion at the time. Then I joined the Bundeswehr. And someone there was looking for someone who could canoe for the Dolomitenmann. That's when I met my future paragliding instructor. And he said, you'll teach me a bit of canoeing. Michael Brunner in Garmisch Badenkirchen. And he taught me paragliding in his school back then. And two years later, I actually quit competitive canoeing. And then I basically only went flying. So I really, you could say, flew every day. I mean, in the winter, in the worst week, I only spent ten hours on the glider. So I was really addicted to flying and out there a lot.

Did you live in the mountains back then? Or were you already basically in the flatlands? Exactly. You live in the Frankfurt area now. So were you already there and were you out in the flatlands for ten hours a day—not daily, but ten hours a week? Exactly,

Yeah. So I learned it in the Alps. But then here in the lowlands, I ran up and down every little hill, did ground handling and flew around. So I did everything here, yeah.

Did you give up kayaking because of the flying?

Yeah, you could say that. Because my heart and soul were in paragliding at some point. I eventually competed in the South German Championship in the two-seater. And when I was flying in the thermals, I only looked up because the sailplanes were circling under the cumulus clouds. And then I knew, that's it. I told my colleague I was staying on the ground. I'd still join the German Championship, but after that, I hung up my active competitive sports.

What fascinated you so much about flying back then? I mean, what kind of feeling was that for you internally? I, as...

As a kid, I always dreamed that I could fly through willpower. And I took off, flew around Taunus at night, and when I woke up, I was a normal human again. So I could fly from one place to another through simple willpower. Once I started flying, the dreams stopped. When I didn't fly for several years, the dreams came back. And since I'm getting back into flying now, I just use what I used to dream about more in reality.

With a glider. Have you ever experienced in reality that you encountered and saw images you had previously dreamed about, as if they were actually there in reality? Or did you only dream things afterwards, where you'd say, oh, I already know these images from the flight?

So, with paragliding, less so. But I've had other things where I...

...dreamed about what the future would look like, let's just say. And yes, that it was helpful for me later on.

You're known in Germany primarily as a gifted cross-country glider pilot, let's put it that way. You even flew 166 kilometers back in 1995 with a paraglider. That was, at the time, the second-longest flight I believe to have been launched in Germany, and so on. So you have a really significant cross-country career. However, you're out in the mountains significantly less. Why is that?

Why should I travel that far if I can fly at home? Back then, I preferred flying a bit. We always used to drive to the mountains. Then the weather was a bit more marginal. Then you just drive there. Maybe a passage happens, or maybe not. Somehow, that was a bit annoying for me. The effort of travel time versus flight time was relatively low. And here at home, I just went to university. If I saw that, like, the wind was right somehow, I'd often get out of my lectures a bit early and go flying. And I'm always drawn to the difficult stuff. And in the lowlands, people always said... Yeah, that doesn't really work in the lowlands and all that. And you can hardly motivate me anymore if someone tells me it's not possible. Because then I always try it. And I always believed that you could fly just as far here as in the Alps. And then I just did it and tried. And it took a long time until I flew those 166 back then.

Before, just over 70 was always the magic limit. And then suddenly, I just flew further.

Were there some very special meteorological conditions at the time that caused it to suddenly hit 166? Or did something just click in your head and you suddenly knew how the flatlands work for really long distances?

So I think most of it is mental. It was a very good day, but in hindsight, it wasn't anything extraordinary. Back then, I blamed it a bit more on the weather. We used to have a little computer game as kids with a mouse and a clock. You always had to enter a number, set it, and then press the button to fire. And there was this magic score of 10,000 points. No one could reach it. But as soon as someone managed to exceed those 10,000 points, suddenly everyone could. And it was absolutely clear to me back then that most barriers are set in the head. And when you set a barrier in your head, the mental movies start. You believe you can't overcome it, and so on. You're just paralyzing yourself. And I've basically eliminated that for myself. So, if I believe something is possible, I work out the math, think through the whole thing, and so on.

And don't try to clear any artificial, meaningless obstacles out of my way. Instead, try to show me that something is possible. And then I believe it, then I do it. So, during my 300-kilometer flight, I eventually realized in the air, wow, I could fly 300 kilometers. I knew it would be the longest flight ever if I pulled it off. And I only focused on that, not on thinking about the fact that it might be the longest flight. But simply on enjoying it, taking pleasure in it, and really taking in everything possible until the very end of the flight. Only then do you get over those barriers. Otherwise, you often fail.

If you had to get a mountain pilot excited about lowland flying, how would you sell it to them? What's the special thing about it—what do you say, "Hey, you get something here that you absolutely don't get in the mountains"?

So, for example, in the lowlands, lowland flying tends to be less dangerous. I haven't evaluated this statistically, but for instance, we don't really have any lee zones here. That makes it very pleasant, especially when it comes to cross-country flying. When doing cross-country in the Alps, you often have to fly into a lee somewhere. Especially when flying closed tasks, the wind comes from some direction or another. I actually save myself a lot of that in the lowlands. At most, when it's the ridge, if the wind is stronger and I want to fly far, it can get a bit sportier. With free flight, it's actually relatively free. So, free, safe flying, no obstacles, no mountains in the way. You can fly over many different landscapes, which I find so beautiful. And you can get back relatively well. In the Alps, it's sometimes difficult with the mountains. If you're in the Lechtal and want to get back to Oberstdorf, I have to go completely around it somehow.

Yeah, and I think if I lived in the Alps, I'd definitely fly there. I'm not saying that flatland flying is somehow better or anything. I do it here. It's certainly harder to get altitude. I don't have it like that. I don't have my 1,000-meter south slope where, at noon when it's thermal, the lift just kicks in and pushes me up. It's harder to get up here. But that's what appeals to me personally as well.

In your view, what are the most important skills that are particularly in demand for lowland flying?

Patience.

Yes, patience. Of course, feel too. You have to have a bit of a feel for the currents, for thermals and so on. A bit more like in the Alps. More finesse than group motor skills, I'd say. In the Alps, I also have to be more turbulence-resistant. When it's shaking pretty hard, I have to be able to handle that better mentally, let's say, when I'm flying for 10 hours. And yes, those are perhaps the

different skills. How did you teach yourself? Have you always been a patient person? Patience isn't exactly my greatest virtue, I'd say.

But ambition—when I want to learn something, I think it's always like that. You just bite the bullet and then you just teach yourself.

Let's walk through one of these, say a larger cross-country flight in the lowlands, in our heads. The planning, the launch site, the selection, and so on. If you were to think ahead now and say you could take a day off sometime next week, what would you look for? Which day would it be? First and foremost, you look at the meteo forecasts. What are the most important signs for you? Especially for the lowlands. For a really good cross-country flight day.

So maybe first I have to say that I only prepare to a limited extent. Sometimes it even happens that I show up at the launch site completely unprepared and can still actually perform quite well. I usually check wetter-jetzt.de or top-medio. They have a forecast that costs money for the next six days. And there I can already recognize relatively well where a potentially good cross-country flight day is. Then I monitor it most of the time. Let's say if it's forecast well. Then it's a 50 percent chance in the spring. From peak summer onwards, maybe a third that the day will actually be good. Then I'm monitoring it very closely. Sometimes I'm already informing the buddies a bit so that we can try to clear some time together. Then the day might be a bit earlier or later. And I try to make that happen.

During my seminars, I always try to convey this a bit. Ideally, you want fresh cold air. The cooler it is, the better it actually works. That's actually a very easy indicator to spot. Even on a cheap weather app, I can often see that fresh cold air is coming in. It gets colder, and then I have a normal daily cycle where it gets warmer during the day, as it usually does. Then it's usually already a pretty good day, provided it's not raining or there are any disturbances involved. The wind should be noticeably under 10 km/h for a cross-country flight or even shift during the day. Then it's of course even better, which is very rare. But then the day becomes really good for a cross-country flight. Or if I'm flying one-way, it should be around 20 km/h or a bit more. The important thing here is that the wind gradient is weak—meaning that the wind speed and direction don't change significantly with altitude.

Because otherwise, it's just super difficult to fly. Because the thermals are always chopped up, and you can hardly manage to turn back up and fly upwards consistently and safely. And you often land earlier before you've made the most of the whole day.

Well, these cold locations where you say fresh wind comes in and it's nice and thermal—those are actually most often the northeast aspects that are most pronounced in our area. Are those the locations you prefer to fly in, or do you not really care?

Actually, I don't really care where the wind comes from. The main thing is that the launch site faces the right direction.

Yeah okay, so we're actually already at the choice of launch site. We have a day where you say it's thermally interesting. You can choose the wind yourself, which direction it's coming from. But what do you look for when choosing, like "I'm going to this launch site today" or "I'll try this or that"? Are there a few things that make a launch site particularly good for you?

Yeah, so I don't look for a launch site as much for myself personally. I look more for where I can—so if I say I have a day with over 20 km/h wind, I can assume that I could basically fly 300 kilometers if I can use that day for ten hours. And then I first look at which wind direction I have. Where is the wind strength in the optimal range roughly in Germany? And then I also look at where I have relatively free airspace. Where can I actually lay out a route from this distance without having to fly extreme zig-zags? And then I start, so to speak, searching for a launch site. Which isn't that easy; paraglidingstart.info is one possible way. Then I usually start a few days in advance, maybe even contacting the club boards or someone else to see if launching there is possible and how it's possible.

Whether they don't want multiple people coming at once, or if we can come by car, or whatever. And if that's possible, I try to fill up a car with a few friends, which might not work as well now in the Corona times. But we always used to do that nicely before. And then we'd drive there. Whoever got drunk first took the car and picked up the rest, or the rest went home by train. And I actually plan my routes like that. But for normal flyers who just want to fly thermals for a few hours, a completely different approach is obviously more sensible.

Is there still something you'd say, like a particular launch site or launch site structure, is actually ideal for being able to take off in flat areas? Or in the low mountain range, not everything has to be flat as a pancake, since we also basically call the low mountain range the lowlands.

Yeah, yeah, I know. Some people know me for taking pretty unusual launch sites that are actually totally crazy just to get up there. But if I manage to get up there within the first hour or hour and a half, then I might have a better route that I can fly. So I occasionally put up with worse launch sites, thermally worse launch sites, in order to be able to fly a better route once I'm up there. Because my goal is often to do a particularly good, long flight, and not just some random flight. And that's why I also consider other launch sites. If I just say, I just want to fly 100 kilometers and I'm not that experienced, then of course I'd rather pick a launch site where I can get up relatively well and safely. Then the launch site selection is naturally completely different in terms of how you approach it.

If you look at your flights now, at least the particularly long ones, it's noticeable that you often start surprisingly early compared to the majority of lowland and mid-mountain pilots. Is that one of the secret tips for going far?

Yeah, I learned that eventually. Because back in the day, I'd go on flights and be so proud if I flew 160 kilometers. But I'd somehow get into the air around half past twelve or something and then fly until six. And then I looked at the DHV XC to see what the guys who do the long flights were doing. And Erwin Aue always stood out to me, and he was sometimes already in the air by ten o'clock. And that's why I started training consistently to launch as early as possible. Often to my chagrin, because I could fly with fewer people then. Because if I was at the launch site, I'd fly where it wasn't that good. Where it often wasn't possible yet, I'd sink. I'd run straight back up or get back up with the first bus when the crowd started heading up again, and then I'd do the second flight right away. But by doing that, I've slowly trained to launch very early. To somehow get up with weak thermals and find the right launch time.

And I also practiced flying for as long as possible. So, that I can ideally land in the lowlands even after eight o'clock. Which, of course, simply extends the flight time. And flight time is the be-all and end-all of flying long distances.

You just mentioned a keyword: finding the right time to start. How do you find it? What do you look out for?

So, I make the decision to launch within a fraction of a second. I don't think about it for very long. If I get the impression that there's a swallow there, that it looks good right now, the vario is beeping, the cloud formation looks good, bam, I'm out. Then I just try it. There are many people who always deliberate for a very long time. Oh yeah, is that really okay now? Ah, the cloud isn't quite perfect yet. Well, I'll wait a bit more. The wind is getting stronger. The thermals are getting stronger. Ah, now it's going. But that's usually already too late because the thermals have already passed through. I have to get on top of the thermals at the beginning. And that's why I rely very heavily on my gut feeling and so on. And then I just try it. If I think, now is my chance, I try it. And if you wait too long, it often happens that you end up waiting for half an hour, an hour. By then, you might have already been in the air for an hour.

And I'd rather stand at the bottom once and walk back up than miss the whole day because I just stood at the launch site and didn't try. I'd rather try it and fail. I'll be happier in the evening if I spent the whole day up there and just started too late.

When I go flying with us and see ten people in the club starting at similar times, sometimes only two of them manage to make it up somehow. Often, it's always the same two. Probably, if you go flying with other people, you'd also be one of those same two who would likely always make it up. What's the magic behind it? What do you do to be one of those two who usually manage to keep up? What's the trick? Well, often

people tend to fly behind me, which is already a mistake, I'd say. At the Red Bull X-Alps, I also see many people who always fly behind Kriegel Maurer. Only by then is he a few mountains further along, and at this time, if he were at that spot, he'd probably be making other decisions. And many people start when I go out, but only start once I'm already climbing. But then I'm up on the thermals and they have to get in down below. And if the thermals weaken, they're simply washed out. Meanwhile, I've already gained some altitude, and if it weakens, I can look for the next thermal. And you should always train your intuition and feeling more. And even if I'm not starting myself and say, I think it'll work now, but I'm not starting, you can still watch when others start. Do they make it now? Was the phase good? Was it bad? And you just have to practice and train. It's really a matter of practice and training.

Of course, you also have to be able to center the thermals well. And of course, you have to have a good feel for things outside. Is the glider pulling me to the right? Is it pulling to the left? Is the cloud shadow on the left? Is the cloud just to the right? Where do I see a bird? All these things, these small indicators, are all part of it, of course, to get as much out of it as possible.

When you're flying, would you say that when you're taking off and looking around, do you still think about it a lot? Or is it really a matter of gut feeling for you now, where you only notice the bird in your peripheral vision and automatically pull the right brake because your glider obviously has to go over it?

It's always a mix between logic and intuition. That's why I love flying so much, because you have to combine both. But I find that the more I work with my intuition, the better I actually fly. And logic is especially good for reflecting later. Why did I just stall? Oh yeah, the cloud shadow, okay, it wasn't sharp-edged enough. Or oh yeah, the wind was coming from a different direction after all, and I can reflect on that afterwards. That's where logic is super strong. But intuition can process much more information simultaneously and spit out a nuanced result that you just can't process as well with logic—so much information. And that's why, while flying, I rely more and more on my intuition. I sometimes find that when I fly purely on intuition, I'm able to turn and climb better than others now.

Like when I try to focus on where it's better.

How important is glider performance for you? Would you always try to self-recover with an ENC if you were out with an ENA? Or is that not important at all at that point?

Of course, if I take, let's say, two extreme cases. If I have weak conditions and I'm flying a high-performance glider with fewer lines, I'll obviously always climb better than if I were flying with a beginner glider. But I used to always wonder, why hasn't anyone flown 300 kilometers in the flatlands? I see people flying an average of 40 km/h. I see people flying for 10 hours. But I don't see anyone who combines both. And I think one of the problems is that there are few people who can actually fly out their glider's performance for 10 hours while staying top-motivated. Most of the time, the average pilot is actually done after an hour, then they land, go have a beer, everything's fine. But you'll never be able to fly a record like that. Or they fly a slightly hotter glider, fly quite well for an hour or two, are also among the fastest, but then that's enough.

But if you want to fly really far, I don't just have to be able to extract performance for 10 hours; I have to be so motivated by the end of the flight duration that I'd rather fly for 20 hours. Only then can I really achieve the maximum at the very end.

to get out of. We're basically still on a flight right now. I'll come back to the end of a flight with you in a moment. But let's say you've caught the first thermal or the first few thermals and you're already making some distance. What do you pay attention to now regarding your line choice? I mean, when do you mainly look at the clouds? When does the ground come into play for you, in terms of deciding where you're going next?

There's sort of this simple rule: if I'm in the upper third, I fly toward the clouds; if I'm in the lower third, I fly toward the ground. If you expand on that a bit, it's like, if I'm gliding now and expect to end up in the lower third anyway, then I orient myself more toward the lower third where I'm arriving, so more toward the ground. Of course, good pilots combine the cloud picture and the shadows and so on with the ground and try to bring them into harmony. That's always more effective, of course. But if I'm doing a flight and have a bit of time beforehand, I look at the topography of the terrain first—which you also do a bit in your lectures—where the lift lines are and so on. And I also look at where the small elevations are, where the plateaus are, where the deeper valleys are, because especially at the beginning, when you're taking off, the plateaus are thermally better because the cold air that forms at night, just like in the Alps of course, goes into the lower-lying regions.

Then it takes longer for the ground inversion to burn off, longer for the ground to warm up. That's why at the beginning I stay a bit more over high plateaus, and of course I also look at whether forests that are wooded and a bit more humid might not be as good so early on, and maybe there are more clear-cuts or something where it might pull out. And mentally, depending on where the wind is coming from, I also consider where valley wind systems might meet—the kind of valley wind systems you already have in the Alps also exist in hilly, slightly hilly landscapes, even in the Odenwald, for example. I try to keep all that in the back of my mind, but it's already processed, and during the flight, I basically focus back on what I see. What is the cloud picture doing when there's a lot of cloud cover, where are the sunflecks, where do I have warm spots, and so on, and I try to concentrate more on what's happening right now during the flight and not on what I thought through beforehand.

I think it through beforehand and then, during the flight, I sort of delete it. It's already stored intuitively, and I focus back on what I'm seeing.

You just said you pay a bit of attention to the topography. Do you look at all of that in Google Earth or what do you look for? And do you maybe set a few waypoints in your instrument because of that, where you say there's probably a thermal, or is that really just in the back of your mind? I mean...

I have waypoints, but I practically never set them, except for turning points, for FRI triangles, where I do something rough. I don't actually do that. I've processed it mentally beforehand. I look at Google Maps, at the terrain, basically at the whole thing primarily. You can also, with DAV XC, there's also this topographical representation where you have these colors for the hollows. You can look at that a bit too. But mostly this terrain representation, and I actually look at what the terrain looks like there and try to imagine the valley winds a bit, depending on the wind direction and so on, and get a picture in my head. And I've already thought it through, so I don't have to take it with me anymore and I don't look at the device in that sense. I really only need an acoustic to know for sure if I'm actually climbing or sinking, but I actually don't look at the device much then.

Now, during that flight, and for whatever reason—maybe a long glide path and so on—you're getting really low, you're down in the bottom third or bottom fifth or something like that. What do you pay attention to when it comes down to, oh, I absolutely have to get back up now, otherwise I'll be on the ground very soon?

I always say, the mistake already happened before I'm down here. I have to try to learn to recognize as early as possible that it's about to get difficult and that I might be low. And the earlier I manage to recognize that it's about to get difficult—ideally even when I'm still at the base—the better my chances are of not sinking at all. And it's very, very important to learn that, to know beforehand that it's about to get difficult, even when I'm way up high. I have that sometimes with cloud streets, where I think the last cloud of the street probably won't move, as is usually the case. You're already approaching with maximum height, taking everything with you, and then you keep flying if it's clear blue. Or if a hole or something comes up in front of me. So you have to try to avoid that beforehand. And if you're getting lower, of course, then you can pay a lot of attention to where the wind is pushing you. If you have a normal wind direction and the wind direction changes, or in calm conditions, you feel immediately where it's pulling; it basically pulls toward where the lift actually is.

Besides the fact that I still pay a bit of attention to topography, I also try to stay more on these high plateaus in the morning, for example, in my 300-kilometer range. On my 300-kilometer flight, for instance, I flew over the valleys late in the evening, just before eight, to use the inversion thermals. Then it flips back again, for example. Then it's more about staying calm over wetter areas later in the day, instead of over the drier areas, because with the moisture, if you're high enough, you get even better lift. And that also switches over during the day. So it's time-dependent.

where I then fly to. But now you're already quite low. Are there any specific things you look out for when you say, "Damn, I might have made a mistake earlier, but now I have to somehow fix that mistake"? Basically, I don't get angry in the air,

that I did it. I'll just note that down for a second. I can reflect on it after the flight. I used to always tell myself: there is a solution, you just have to find it. And if you internalize that—there is a solution, where is it? Where is it? It's out there somewhere—then you search in a completely different way than when you say, "Shit, I'm sinking, that mistake happened again." Then you only look 10 degrees ahead, 220 degrees ahead, plus or minus. But if you really look 360 degrees around, knowing the solution is out there somewhere, you have a disproportionately higher chance of getting back up. I also pay very close attention to the glider. You have to listen to your glider very much—where is it pulling you, what is the thermals doing? And I just do that very intuitively. If I have the feeling, "I think the lift is over there," then I just follow it very consistently. I switch more to the intuitive. So, what was actually your most fulfilling lowsave that you've ever had?

Most fulfilling lowsave? Every lowsave is always nice. Many flights start with a lowsave. During my Cottbus triangle, which was 162 kilometers back then, I almost sank right near the start and actually wouldn't have made it back to the starting point. But I always say, if you're almost sunk at the beginning—like, really low—then you can be sure it's going to be a really good flight. Because you're so "vaccinated" that you just take everything in, you stop fussing around, and you hardly have a chance of sinking anymore. As long as you don't start being reckless again. So, lowsaves aren't that bad at all. They bring you back down to earth a bit, to the facts. You become humble and try to fly carefully, which is very important in flat country.

There aren't really any basic tips or basic rules for lowsaves; instead, you really have to let your glider out on site and it will probably tell you where it goes up best.

I also give some lectures and try to explain exactly what you're always asking about, this purely technical stuff. If you're low, fly towards the combine harvesters. At some point, someone came to me and said, "That doesn't work." I say, "Okay, you flew towards them, why didn't it work? Was the hay being tossed up?" "No, the hay wasn't being tossed up," I say. "Well, if the hay isn't being tossed up, then there's no lift."

But I've noticed more and more that it's less about the purely technical knowledge and more about people's mental attitude—why people become successful, regardless of what they do or don't do. And sometimes during lectures, you see young people who are motivated, who have open eyes, who listen to you, who soak it all in, and then they get in touch with you and say, "Hey, if you're going flying, I want to come along" or something like that. You can put your money on those. They'll be flying really well in half a season. And then there are others who have been flying forever. Yeah, if that ever happens to me, sort of, yeah. But they have the wrong attitude toward actually continuing their education, listening to different opinions, verifying them, checking them out—what's the point of that, what's in it, what can I learn from that, what can I learn from that?

I also always recommend riding along with the good pilots to the sites, which we usually do ourselves. We're naturally very grateful if we have someone who might drown earlier because they're driving the car. And they can be very grateful if they learn a lot from it, because you actually learn the most during the drive. If you stay inquisitive, yeah, weather report, what do you think, what do you think, what are the problems today, is the shading coming, is the wind too strong, is it too turbulent, is the wind turning later, what do we do with the control zone, how do you get up to the launch site, how early do we want to start, and so on. All those conversations that happen automatically, mainly before the flight, sometimes after the flight, that's what naturally takes someone who doesn't have much experience very far and can make them good really quickly. So, yeah.

That means learning from the best and having enough fire under your own ass to keep moving forward.

Exactly. So, our coach, who we also have at the company, always said you have to go to the best and learn from them. That's what he always did. The knowledge he acquired—always getting as close to the source as possible, discussing things with people. No one was born with wisdom. The world isn't just black and white; one person has interesting aspects you can adopt, and another might have interesting aspects where you can learn something. The people who draw and gather interesting information from different people to develop themselves further—they become better, like their gods, I'd say, yeah.

Okay, we're still trying to extract information from you now. And we're still in flight, so let's do our little cross-country flight—or not little, it's supposed to be a long cross-country flight in the flatlands. Ask about the use of the speed bar, especially in the flatland area. How often do you use it, and do you ever really go full throttle, and in which situations? Or do you say, no, the wind is pushing well enough anyway, I mostly stay unaccelerated. Because it already moves me well enough and I actually want to fly there with the lowest possible sink rate. So first I have to say, that was just the most important piece of information.

But people don't want to hear it.

And there are 1,000 books on cruise theory; everyone knows how simple it is. Cruise or McReady is, of course, one of the basics if you want to get better at flying, so you just read through it. You can actually internalize that in a few hours. For me, it's basically this: the most important thing for staying up is to fly for a long time. If that's the most important thing, I can't stall. So, if you look at it that way, I basically always have to set the McReady calculator to zero. That means I fly at cruise speed. Zero cruise speed is, in principle, McReady at zero. That means I simply don't expect any special lift up ahead. I just fly in a way that I arrive as high as possible, even if there are only zero-lift zones behind me. And accordingly, if I'm flying and gliding worse than I normally would—if the glide ratio goes below 1 to 8, 1 to 7,

then I slowly start to pick up speed. If I'm below 1 to 5, I can basically start to slowly head towards full throttle. If I'm sure that it's definitely going to lift well up ahead because I see a turn and it's a good distance below me, and I'll arrive above it anyway, then of course I can also fly faster and fly according to McReady. If it's climbing at 2 meters, that actually means, even if I have zero lift, that I basically have to fly at full throttle. I can do that. It helps a bit to get forward faster. But often, the people who then sink too early again are the ones who can't manage to slow down again at the right moment. The good pilots manage to slow down at the right moment and additionally fly a bit faster when things are good, especially in flat terrain. But more importantly, don't sink. I always tell people, if you manage to fly for 10 hours

and there's a 20 km/h wind, so even if you happen to fly in any direction where only the best lift is expected, you'll fly 200 kilometers. That's simple math. And if you only want to fly in the hundreds as your first big goal, then you fly, try to stay up for six or seven hours, and with a 20 km/h wind, just don't sink. The word "simple" is, of course, just that. But it means the primary premise is to get up relatively early and stay up as long as possible without taking any risks of sinking, while preferably flying in one direction.

That would mean, to put it simply, taking every bit of lift I can get right now, because it's also carrying me along with that 20 km/h wind. But as an experienced pilot, when do you decide to say, "this thermal is basically too weak for me, I'm going to skip it"?

With experience, you can eventually start leaving thermals out. And if you then realize, "shit, I should have taken that thermal," you end up whipping yourself around a bit in the air.

It actually doesn't bring much to skip thermals in flatland flying, unless I want to break the world record or fly 300 kilometers, of course, you have to fly more consistently. But for most people, it's first and foremost about flying 100s. And for that, I just recommend: just turn everything out that you have. As long as you have lift, the wind will push you forward anyway, everything's great. Unless you have a day where you only have 3 hours of thermals because after that it dies down. And if you want to fly a distance in that time, then of course you just have to fly a bit faster if that's the goal. Or if I'm flying a competition, it's often about time, and then it might not always make sense to take everything. But otherwise, to most pilots I say: just turn everything out. Of course, there might still be a bit of a problem with the strategy if I fly somewhere and have weak lift and immediately turn...

and don't notice that it might lift much better 200 meters further. And after a certain amount of time, the thermals might be gone because of shading. Then the strategy is also bad, of course. So looking for where it could be better is still always very important. That you also feel with the glider, that it's getting better there, or also have a bit of a view, saying that cloud back there is still better, maybe I should move my circle towards the darker cloud. Or I fly a bit into the wind, where maybe the release point is, or fly towards the cloud shadow, follow it a bit to see where the release point is. You still have to keep that in mind, of course, to stay in the lift. That's also very important. So just stupidly flying a circle whenever I have lift isn't the golden rule. But taking the lift, looking to get the maximum out of the lift...

and simply squeezing out the maximum lift possible, that's the point. That's the sensible rule, yeah.

The record flyers in Brazil, they're also flying a lot in teams now and say that we gain an incredible amount specifically through team flying. How often do you do that? I mean, how often do you go team flying? And specifically in a way where you stay together as a team, and not just that you start as a team, but you're gone at some point and the others just pick you up again later.

That's a good question. I also see it that way—you can fly much more effectively in a team. We did an expedition in Namibia once, and we made really good use of that. And lately, I have to say, especially with Sven Nissen for example, I can fly very well with him because we're at a pretty similar level. We flew a lot back in the time when I was flying constantly. He took a long break and is active again now, and it's great fun to fly with him. But we—okay, he usually starts a bit later than I do, we always have to push at the beginning, but once he's out there with me, we can both fly great side-by-side and at a pretty similar level. When I fly with other pilots, it's always a bit difficult,

because if it's going really well and I see a cloud street, I'll obviously let the cloud street pass through and then at the end of the cloud street, I'll turn up to the max again and end up a good distance ahead of the others, but then I can't fly back either. It doesn't really make sense because then I'd just sink at the end. So it's difficult; you need people who fly at more or less the same level, otherwise it's hard. Or you need a lot of people. At the Mosel Open or something like that, I have so many people in the sky that I'm always doing some kind of group flying, yeah. So it's very, very helpful when people are at a similar level and get along well with each other; I can do that very easily. I'd definitely recommend that. We fly sometimes—well, I used to fly ahead of Sven sometimes, but now we fly side-by-side because he's also gotten better, and one flies on the right, the other would be 300 meters to the left, and as soon as the one on the right climbs better than the one on the left, it's automatically clear: the one on the right flies further to the right, and the one on the left who's flying worse automatically flies over.

And then we shift our line and observe how the lift continues. So, we're basically scanning the air with several people, and of course, if one is lower, the other with the upper wing takes it a bit more relaxed and also takes a bit less lift, giving the lower one a chance. Sometimes, lifting at the bottom is harder—you might not even be able to catch up anymore. That's happened to me with Sven, just in reverse. But of course, if you're a bit further ahead, you slow down a bit to let the other one catch up again, and the other one at the bottom mustn't struggle too much. They still have to take all the lift, but they try to, if...

...to manage to catch up. Do you always have radios with you? Like, does Hugh say, "Hey, it's better over here on the right," or is it really just that you look at each other and pay attention?

We usually have radios with us, especially Sven and I, and so on. Sometimes we take off and say, for example, where are we flying now? No idea, maybe it's the same for me. Okay, let's go that way, yeah, I'd say that too, and then we decide during the flight. You can also coordinate a bit tactically. It doesn't help much, though, because we both think relatively similarly, actually.

But it's still quite nice. I mean, if you can have a quick chat, even if one of you has landed or something, or if you can coordinate a bit. Yeah, it's nice. So, it helps a little, but it doesn't help that much.

Let's talk about a special topic regarding low-level flying. We often have certain airspaces that cap us from above, where it says, okay, you're not allowed to climb higher than 1,300 or 1,500 or whatever. But then there are days when you know exactly, damn, today the thermals are reaching 700 meters higher. But I have to crawl along under this cap, meaning I have to exit a thermal much earlier than I normally would or something like that. Are there any tips or tricks on how you deal with that? How close do you fly to such airspaces? Or maybe there are things where you say, hmm, if the wind is shifting my thermal anyway, then I'll let myself sink for a bit, but then I'll fly back a little to reposition myself with this thermal, because I'm entering that one thermal again deeper or something? That

It varies, of course. What's my goal now and what's important to me? Personally, for example, I often want to fly far, and at times I've even flown out under the Frankfurt control zone, CTR, where you're only allowed just over 1,000 meters. And my strategy there was to start as early as possible, as long as the thermals aren't reaching that high yet. Because you always hold lectures, right? The higher the thermals reach, the further the distance between them. And if I have thermals reaching that high but there's a ceiling over them, I can hardly use the thermals. The distance between them is very large and the risk of being sucked in is very high. As long as the thermals aren't reaching that high yet and only go halfway to the ceiling or just slightly above it, the distances between the thermals are still relatively small. That's why I start very early, and by doing that—whereas if I normally started later, I'd have better thermals but wouldn't have any real advantage.

And that's why I try to start early when the ceiling is high. If I'm flying somewhere where the thermals are high later and the ceiling is low, it's very difficult. Sometimes you have to use tricks like that. Like somehow staying in the lift with your ears pinned back or something. If you think it's not going to get any better ahead... And I fly close enough that I'm relatively sure I won't get sucked in. So I always fly with a barometer to keep track of the altitude accordingly, including the current QNH. My app, for example, calibrates automatically, and sometimes I've even flown within 20 or 30 meters for a few seconds. At the beginning, I did get caught once when I was just barely inside, and that's why I don't want to mess up my flight. I fly in a way that I'm always strictly outside.

And you don't really hang around that airspace for long; I usually fly on past it. I'm only in the vicinity of the airspace boundary for a short time, actually.

Alright. Let's get back to our flight, which we've been doing for quite a while now. The flight is getting longer and longer. How do you actually stay fit over these hours? Do you eat anything in between? Do you drink anything? How do you manage that for yourself?

I don't have any fitness issues during long flights at all. I have to say, if I have... I might have motivation problems only after about two hours and until around hour six or so. And then my motivation rises disproportionately again because I think, wow, cool, you've made it this far. Now it's five o'clock, you have to switch to dynamic thermals and so on. And then it gets nice and quiet. The air gets a bit cooler. Flying is actually totally great. Totally relaxed. Beautiful. The sunset, if you can still experience it from the air, is totally dreamy. So, for example, during the 300-kilometer flight, I didn't eat anything in the air and I don't even know if I drank anything. And then an hour after landing, I always had a couple of bites and then just put it away because I didn't like the taste. I don't actually, yeah, I don't even need anything to drink or eat.

I don't need to. I always have something with me,

but I actually have to be more demanding about it. For me, it has nothing to do with that. For me, it's important, for example, to have a urinal condom on so that I can just go to the toilet early and relax, because I notice that when I can pee, I fly much, much, much better than before. For me, it's important, for example, to be wrapped up warm. I can't feel even a little bit cold up there. If I'm shivering a bit up in the air, my subconscious will simply take me to warmer regions. I'm aware of that, but practically I still can't rule it out. That's why I'm always bundled up super well. I'm warm enough up there. I've also done flights where I forgot my gloves. But then it's really difficult. So feeling super comfortable in the air is very, very important. Whatever that may be. For one person, it might be the food, for another, it's the drinks.

For one person it's being warm, and for the other it's the urinal condom, whatever it is. You have to find that out. Having a suitable glider, so that you're happy and relaxed instead of being on edge, is also of course very important. That's really very important. You have to genuinely enjoy flying.

Long-term up there. Okay, our flight continues. It's heading towards evening. We've been flying for quite a long time now. You're still hanging up there in the air. Especially towards the evening, there are often very special thermal conditions again. You said that yourself. What do you look out for then? How do you perhaps decide on your line choice, saying "I want to get as much out of the day as possible"?

I don't know that exactly either. For example, I'm not sure from what point the inversion thermals kick in, making it better in the lowlands over the T-Land, like over a high plateau. I'd guess that transition phase is somewhere between 5 and 7 p.m., where it's no longer better on the high plateaus than in the T-Land. Villages, for instance, are usually more in the T-Land. They're actually very good in the afternoon with the heated walls. That's where I'm switching over. So, I try to switch accordingly using different measures. But it's not completely clear-cut. I've even flown with a thermal camera, for example, and actually found that it doesn't really do anything for us in the lowlands. You always see at noon that the village is much warmer than the forest next to it. And I'll say, I still fly over the forest and turn up over the forest, over the forest clearing or something like that.

Maybe most people fly in the Alps. So this idea of the inversion thermals and so on, I think for many it's a very good thing, that they somehow switch over to more inversion thermals, like you know them in the Alps, around 5 o'clock, 7 o'clock at the latest. Forested areas, which are perhaps more wooded, I'd say, are then more interesting from noon onwards, in the afternoon. Although, before noon, those forest clearings are often still good, where you can pull out some nice thermals.

Clouds, for example, especially if there are still clouds later in the day. The few clouds that are there are also longer-lasting, so you fly towards the clouds more consistently again and try to use those lift currents for as long as possible. Sometimes I almost park under the clouds, so to speak, and observe what's ahead of me when a difficult phase comes. So from 5 to 7 o'clock, it's all about staying up. That's when you really need to use the full brake. If you fly just fifteen minutes longer, you keep flying, if you still think somehow that you have to fly a bit faster to make it to McGrady. Yes. So go for the best glide, otherwise everything is about climbing, taking it with you, staying up,

keep it up, keep it up. Well, eventually every flight comes to an end. Now you've landed. Do you have something like a routine or a special practice that you always do when you've landed? Do you shout "Yippee" once or dance around your glider or something, especially if it was a big one?

In the past, I used to look for the fastest way to get away. Nowadays, I'm actually more relaxed about it, and I've noticed that having live tracking can help a bit sometimes. For example, maybe someone on the live tracking sees on a good day, "Oh, someone is flying in this region," and picks them up again. We've had that happen occasionally. Whenever we go flying with a few people, we have a WhatsApp group where we chat with each other a bit. Then a message comes through from above: "I've already got the car, I'm following you," or whatever. That makes it a bit more relaxed too. Or I've parked the car at station XY. Then they know from above, "Okay, I still have to get to the station somehow." What definitely helps a lot with the hitchhiking, in my experience, is being totally happy. If you're grateful and happy for this flight, that radiance...

...on the next one that arrives, incredibly magical. And it's fascinating how often people stop. Sometimes I've hitchhiked back faster than I flew, even though I had to switch cars three times for just 30 kilometers, because I approached people with such a glow. They just had to take me in. And I've noticed that if frustration comes through because no one is picking you up, then it just gets worse and you get picked up even less. So, yeah.

And otherwise, I don't have any special ritual. I just load my flight, try to pack as quickly as possible first. Then I look at how I can get away, what options there are, if there's a bus here or something. Then I try to quickly upload the flight while packing, if possible. Maybe someone is already pulling me, maybe someone else is picking me up. I check my WhatsApps to see if there's anything else in there. Sometimes I've even gotten WhatsApps while in the air. Hey, I'm currently stranded, because it's not working. I see you're still flying, I'll pick you up or something. Yeah, I've had that happen in the evening too. I already said, yeah, I know, but I don't know how much longer the flight is. And then it came, whatever, I'll pick you up. It ended up being a bit longer after all.

Yeah, or maybe next year I'll just try to call friends when I've landed somewhere and say, hey, are you home? I'll come visit you and head back the next day or something. Yeah, you have to find a way to make the most of the day.

Is there anything like a really special experience you've had on a return trip where you'd say, wow, that was actually better than the whole flight? Yes,

Some people say the return journey is always better than the flight itself. For example, I've already met the national coach for the archers and was able to exchange a lot of ideas and have conversations with him about mental training. It was a very funny experience. I've also had an unpleasant experience. A friend picked me up on a motorcycle. If I had known how much of a wreck I'd be, sitting on the back of a motorcycle at over 100 km, being afraid at every moment that I'd fly off the back even though I had my helmet on... I'm sure I would have managed to fly back with that kind of motivation. Maybe that'll help me for the next return flight. But you can really collect a lot of great experiences. So, that's how it is. And nowadays, I also enjoy it once I've landed. Let's see what happens next.

I have to admit, one of the rituals is always—I always look forward to hearing the first voice that addresses me. Because they always have such a dialect, and I love dialects. And regardless of whether I land in Saxony or somewhere else, I think they're all great, which actually helps me figure out where I am. In the past, I only had a map with me, and I could better identify where I had landed based on the dialect, like where I actually was on the map. So, hearing dialects is always a nice and great thing. And you often meet really interesting people and have great conversations through this coincidence. And yeah, it's often a nice thing, yeah.

Alright, now that we've finished our flight, I'd like to suggest we do a proper topic jump. We're going somewhere completely different. You're also a partner at Skywalk, the paraglider manufacturer, but there you're mainly responsible as a developer for the kite department, Flysurfer. As a former kayaker and paraglider pilot, a half-studied physicist, and so on, how did you end up building a paraglider brand and now also a kite brand?

Yes, well, I used to be highly addicted to flying, you could say. I studied physics at the same time. Then there were people who saw that I fly with a kite. They always thought it was because of the material. I tried to explain that I think it has more to do with the pilots. At some point, I gave up trying to change people's minds and started selling gliders for the small paraglider manufacturer at the time. And then we eventually—it kept getting bigger—then I sold that at some point, then we founded Skywalk and so on. And then I started kiting back then and basically did kite development. And kite development is really exciting. An exciting topic. In the meantime, we have very good developers, so I'm getting more out of it and have fewer projects, and I also have more other tasks in the company than just development anymore.

But it's an exciting topic.

Now you have flying and kiting in the company. You fly and kite at the same time—well, not at the same time, but you do both and you really enjoy both. If you were now at the crossroads and I said, Armin, you can either only go flying or only go kiting. Would there be something where you'd say, my heart definitely beats more for that? I'm currently developing a product in between, so I can do both.

A kite that you can also fly with, or a paraglider that you can also kite with. Right, exactly.

That solves the problem.

But if you had to decide now, you wouldn't want to choose at all. You've managed to cleverly dodge the question.

I've revealed some secrets to you now. I mean, I'm also from back in the day—there are still some videos where, even back then during the Ligadurchgänge, when there was snow on the launch site before we started, I was already kiting with my paraglider. I'd let my shoes slide through the snow like on rails. And I also started flying with my kite during the early days of kiting. So, I actually do both anyway. A paraglider is, of course, more optimized for ridge soaring, forest flying, and so on. A kite is developed with more deep power and so on, more for riding and letting it pull, of course. But somehow, they're about two sides of the same coin, both optimized for one thing. And for me, it's also kind of the same because I love ground handling too, for example, even with the paraglider.

When I'm just at the launch site and there's a nice wind, I also enjoy just inflating the thing and doing collapses, front stalls, and backward flight, and whatever else the thing allows—I have a total blast with that. So from that perspective, even with the paraglider, you can do a lot of things in the direction of kiting, though you shouldn't do that quite as much when kiting to fly it. But a lot of things in that direction are possible. So for me, it's actually pretty good. It's the same for me, two sides of the same coin, and I still do both.

At the very beginning, you mentioned that for a while you were basically only kiting and not paragliding at all, so you really only focused on kiting. Are there things where you would say that kiting also gave you something for paragliding, where you'd say you learned something technical that a kiter might do quite naturally, or something else that actually helps you with paragliding as well?

There are many examples. The DRV now knows about the Cobra Start too. When I did my training back then, you weren't even allowed to pull back, or so the DRV says it's called. So, back then, a backward start was actually frowned upon, something like that. As a kiter, you do that automatically anyway if you look the other way. The wind window edge start is called a Cobra Start in kitesurfing, and in paragliding, it's... well, I've always mixed them up, and that helps you a lot too. In kiting, you basically always have ground handling, which you're constantly training. And because of that, you already have a lot of practice for paragliding again. For example, if the kite suddenly pulls me up in a lift gust—I was just talking about that with a friend today regarding an accident—I can, of course, control the glider just like a paraglider and let myself settle down again.

I know this from paragliding, for example. So there are two things that complement each other perfectly. You can learn a lot back and forth between them. Even in terms of conditions, for example, if there's too much wind, I can go kitesurfing perfectly. If I have too little wind, I can go paragliding perfectly. I don't get into that situation where the wind is so strong that it's very dangerous, and I think I absolutely have to go paragliding to get into the air. In that case, I can just go kiting. And if we don't have any wind at all, I don't have to stand on the ground frustrated; I just go paragliding. So from that perspective, it's a great complement. And I can actually recommend it to everyone. It makes things more relaxed. You don't take as many risks. You also learn so much for the other sport. Yeah, it's a great thing.

What would you say, if someone comes to kiting from paragliding or if someone comes to paragliding from kiting? Which of these steps is perhaps the easier one, where you might really benefit more from the other sport or see faster results?

I think first of all, what's the difference? If I come to paragliding as a kiter, I first think, these people are all death-defying. Then they give me some kind of ENA glider and they pull it up and let go of the brakes. And in the smallest gust, the thing falls from the sky. And that's because the kitesurfer is used to the fact that, no matter how gusty it is, if he lets go of the brake, the glider actually accelerates—meaning a speed bar pulls—and that it just stands there up there very calmly and stably and doesn't collapse. Reflex profiles and more, that's the technology for that too.

And if I now look at it the other way around

when I start kitesurfing as a paraglider, I actually notice that I can try out all the tricks because I fall into the water at most. You can basically set a different risk level. With paragliding, you have to be very careful. Because if I make a mistake now, I fall onto the ground and I'm dead, let's say in the extreme case. And with kitesurfing, if I make a mistake, I just fall into the water. Kitesurfers who start paragliding, they don't have that same respect. Because they say, yeah, if I see some trick from a pro, I'll try it out. Yeah, obviously, I want to learn too. But I wouldn't want to try an Infinity right now, I don't do that. But a kitesurfer says, yeah, cool, I'll do that later too, because they aren't as aware that you can actually die more easily. A paraglider is fundamentally more cautious because they know that more.

He can take more risks when kitesurfing because you're more likely to fall into the water. The risk of getting seriously injured is simply reduced by a factor of five to ten.

Do paragliders then perhaps find it harder, because they approach it with this risk-oriented mindset and think, oh, is it going to shoot off like that or something? Or do you think you get used to the different medium very quickly? So the

Paragliders actually learn it very quickly because it's basically just a paraglider with longer lines. Of course, only if you start in the power zone, so to speak, because a normal paraglider naturally pulls much more on longer lines. You can depower it, meaning accelerate it so the pressure goes away, but that's something else entirely. You should start and land at the edge of the wind window, as is common for kitesurfers, because the glider has less pull. So you have to adjust a bit. Of course, it's best to do some training with someone. Otherwise, you should at least have someone with experience and knowledge let the kite up with you. They'll explain right away that you don't let the thing up out of the power zone, only in light wind. We're doing that nicely at the edge of the wind window now.

Those are the flight techniques or things like that that you can learn. Now, you can also look at the whole material history. You develop kites, or you used to develop them even more than you do today. You're also naturally close to the paraglider development at your company with the Skywalkers. How does kite building fertilize paraglider development? Where would you say, where did you perhaps really take something out of paragliding or kite building that actually gives you a real advantage in terms of flying today?

So, the knowledge flows back and forth. For example, in the kite area, we have really benefited from the know-how in the high-performance sector to get that performance into the kites. We've achieved many titles with our high-performance models in the meantime precisely because we can bring over the know-how from the paraglider sector. In the kite area, we can also learn a lot from the fabrics, for example. That's very clear: the fabrics are actually treated really poorly with sand and salt water. They simply have to be able to handle that. There's no customer who somehow... well, some customers always clean the glider, but I actually never clean my kites. They're covered in salt and salt water, packed up for a few days, a few weeks, and they can handle it all. And we've now also used this fabric in the ARAG, for example, which is really, really robust.

So, for example, the air permeability—you practically can't get through that anymore. So we're really talking about many factors that make it simply better than the normal fabrics people used to use. And at the same time, we know that in the kite area, we need fabrics that are also stiff, just like in the paraglider area, because it's good for performance and feels more direct. And now we also have the fabric in the ARAG, for example, which is stiff, but still also

this silicone coating makes it airtight, even if it's handled poorly. And that's actually a very nice invention. Or, for example, this lightweight construction from the paraglider sector. That's now coming back into the kite sector as well. Whenever development isn't moving forward quite so rapidly, it's naturally about the details, like lighter materials, just as in the paraglider sector over the last few years. That's also coming to the kite sector, and we can, of course, convey that really well again. And the newest fabric, which we're now going to use in the new Cayenne, is the first Triple Stop—so not a ripstop material with two different fibers inside, but we now have a third fiber in there, which makes the fabric even more durable and even more robust. And that's coming in the Cayenne. Once we can finally fly and certify it again, then the glider will hit the market with it.

So, innovations from the kite area are coming over again.

Does that mean you've already been using this Triple Stop fabric in the kite area, or have you been using it for a while? No,

That's actually happening now with our new fabric, which is currently in the certification process. Everything has slowed down a bit because of Corona, but it's being used there as well. And we actually started that at pretty much the same time. But we basically already had the front sail, which then went to ARAG, and now we're going to launch it for both products at the same time, essentially. So we've had it in development for a while. It's been in the kites for over half a year, of course. So it's not like it's just arriving and being used, but it's hitting the market for both products at relatively the same time.

Is there anything else that's not on the market yet where you see real development potential for gliders, perhaps in terms of performance as well?

Yes, new things keep coming out. Everyone thought that performance wouldn't progress much anymore. But it does, a lot. I'm releasing a video soon where I talk a bit about the new Vescal 6 as well. And there, I'll show the calculation of how you can calculate the performance of such a paraglider, for example. And for a canopy, depending on whether it's a high-performance or a restricted canopy, let's say the canopy has a glide ratio between 1 to 13 and 1 to 15. And roughly between 2 and 4 glide ratios are lost due to the pilot's aerodynamic drag. And roughly between 2 and 4 glide ratios are lost due to the drag of the lines. And if you consider, for example, building a high-end two-liner where there is one less level and you basically save a quarter of the lines,

then it's naturally relatively easy to calculate how much better the performance will be. Because I can then lose a corresponding quarter of those 2 to 3 glide ratios, I'm naturally already somehow theoretically three-quarters of a glide ratio better. Of course, if I do fewer glide ratios with fewer levels, I have to compensate differently, for example with thicker profiles. Competition gliders have thicker profiles so that I can get by with fewer support points. And that's why I lose part of the performance advantage from the lower line drag again. But overall, it's still better. With certification, it just gets harder with less support. If I simulate collapses, emptyings, I naturally have less support. It doesn't recover as nicely. But you can calculate that quite well with the performance. So it's foreseeable that if I naturally fair the pilot better aerodynamically, I can simply gain 1 or 2 glide ratios with that.

That is already the case. I believe it's still not sufficiently considered by many pilots. However, you also have to say that you have to be able to fly the performance. If I fly with a lying harness and constantly end up in slide states—for example, because I turn more tightly or less tightly while circling and then get hit by the wind from the side—then I partially ruin that performance advantage, that theoretical performance lead, again. You have to be able to do that first: to shape the harness in the airflow. To be able to align it even when circling.

These are, of course, potentials, and it can go even further with the harnesses. There's still more possible there. For instance, you could make the harnesses almost half as aerodynamic in terms of drag if you were to fair in the head and so on; there are further potentials. The lines, of course—if you could, for example, profile them, you could also further reduce line drag, or if you could get away with fewer lines or use other concepts, towards hang gliders, I'd say, where I'm so to speak inside the aircraft, but the aircraft might be inflatable; you could of course also achieve jumps in performance. So, if you reduce line drag, for example, the optimum of the canopy would again be at higher aspect ratios. Because normally, when I increase the aspect ratio, I also have to attach longer lines to support it again at the same angle. If I now double the aspect ratio, I need twice as long lines, I get four times as much line drag, and somewhere there's the optimum.

With higher aspect ratio gliders or high-performance ones, I have a higher aspect ratio for the optimum. And with gliders with more line levels, for example with thicker lines, the optimum is also at a lower aspect ratio for the performance, purely calculated. And if we were to have less line drag in the future, of course, we could work with higher aspect ratios. Whether the higher aspect ratios are safer again is another matter. That has to be solved again too. But that's how it always is. Two steps forward, one step back, yeah. But still, I personally find the modern gliders to be just a dream. It's magic how beautifully you can actually fly with such a fabric nowadays. So it

is always just great. What about other processing options that could perhaps make building a canopy even more precise? You guys at Skywalk, you also build these

inflatable trade fair stands, you also have experience with gluing materials and such. Also, the protectors you have in the harnesses now are also glued or something. Is that perhaps an option for the future, to say that our paragliders will also eventually have the fabric glued in the aerodynamically exposed areas because that's just how you get the surfaces?

You can do gluing, and we do, as you already mentioned, with the protectors for example. But gluing doesn't necessarily reduce the formation of wrinkles right now. Of course, if you glue it, for example, you can't just take it off as easily for repairs. That has its pros and its cons. Reducing wrinkle formation is, of course, a topic that brings performance. But it brings a bit less than one might actually assume. When you look at these CFD simulations that Horst Altmann does for us again and again. If you go in with more or less wrinkles, for example, the wrinkles can already be left out of the calculation relatively well, because they don't have as big an influence as one would actually assume. So we're not talking about a wrinkle-free paraglider suddenly performing two glide numbers better. We're far from that.

I'd estimate you can get about half a glide ratio out of that. For example, these rigid foils, which are also threaded into the front area where the boundary layer is very thin, also help to get rid of these wrinkles. And that's also one of the advantages of these rigid foils being in there—to reduce wrinkle formation. You can definitely squeeze out a few more tenths there as well. There's a bit of something in there. Only if you consider again, our developers do a lot of work to optimize the performance further. And then they are 0.1, 0.2, 0.3 better than the predecessor, maybe 0.4. But then someone comes along and compares a seat harness with someone else flying in a liege harness, where the differences, as I said, can be easily calculated—easily between one and two glide ratios.

and then they make some statements. Then, of course, they're a bit sad in the forums every now and then when they say the glider performs worse, because they've obviously compared them so poorly. And there is so much that's possible. But for example, if I fly one of our ENAs and fly in a pod harness, I always notice just how massive the difference is, even with the low glide ratio the gliders already have, in terms of how much performance can be squeezed out of it. It's already a lot, a lot. Of course, I also have to be able to fly in a pod harness, and if I get a collapse, I have to make myself compact so that I can wrap up easily. Safety is naturally slightly increased in a seat harness. If I fly in a pod harness, I have to be able to react differently, and not all pod harnesses are the same. There are also studies by others, I can gladly send them to you, showing how big the differences are.

It's primarily about bringing the air behind the body together, so a fairing behind the body. That makes up easily two-thirds of the aerodynamics. A paraglider in the front has openings, and a paraglider in the front has openings. Everyone knows that doesn't make much of a difference. In the past, they partially closed them off. That made hardly any difference to the glide ratio. The important thing is to bring the air back together once it's been split. That reduces drag. That's why the leg bar in the front, the fairing, is very secondary. The fairing in the back is much more decisive. Does that mean it would also make sense to equip many harness models with a fairing? Yes, I've always said that, but the market still isn't ready for it. At some point, it will probably tip over once people notice. You can easily improve the glide ratio with a harness that has a better fairing in the back, even if it's a seat harness.

You

Do you always fly with a reclining harness or sometimes also with a seat harness?

Yes, I always fly with a seat harness in the evenings. If I just jump out for a bit when I'm on vacation in South Africa, I often fly around in a seat harness. You can see that in the videos every now and then. I fly both.

So you're a paraglider and kite designer. What do you do as a kite designer in the Corona times? I guess you're pretty much grounded as well. Just because you probably aren't allowed to travel to many of the good kite spots that could be visited now in winter, because you just can't get there at all. Kitesurfing

is currently still allowed. There are certain travel restrictions.

Right now, it's a bit frowned upon in some cases, especially in the paragliding scene, of course, when you go flying. Theoretically, I should still be allowed to fly with my electric drive as an OL, the airfields are still open. I don't do it because you'd get some very strange looks. And there are also certain reasons, of course, why you maybe shouldn't do extreme sports. And I'd rather hold back for now, just in case everything goes as badly as it can. Otherwise, I'm making a lot of videos here. It's snowing quite a bit right now,

...which is almost like flying yourself, I have to say. So that's also a very nice thing. Of course, we also have to make sure that we navigate our company, with our nearly 40 people, through this crisis as optimally as possible. Huge praise to Manfred Kistler, our managing director, who is doing a truly excellent job, I must say. So from that perspective, I'm actually quite optimistic that we'll get through this just fine. And yes, and also that all our employees are really standing behind us. Many, many thanks for that. You just have to say it, because a team is only as good as its people, and we have great people and haven't let anyone go. And of course, we assume that things will ramp up again at some point. And then it can stay that way. Otherwise, I buy my parents in occasionally, even though they're a bit further away. I'm giving away a few masks I found here.

For people who might need it a bit more.

Alright, Armin, then I wish us all that we can get back into the air as soon as possible. I thank you very much for these explanations of how you do everything. I think some people will certainly be able to take something away from this and perhaps learn more for themselves on how they can continue to fly.

Yes, I hope that it helps a few people a bit. And I think the most important thing, regardless of Corona, is to always fly as safely as possible. That maybe makes us even more conscious of it. The experience is fleeting. Yes, it makes us fleeting and we should behave sensibly. And exactly, maybe I also find this word social distancing a bit bad. We are of course distancing ourselves spatially so that we don't infect each other. Nevertheless, it is important that we also have social cohesion, of course. For the weakest as always. We should also have that after the Corona times. There are also very many other people who are dying. Whether they die of hunger or somewhere else in the world, that is perhaps something that we should all think about more once this has been endured. Now it affects us ourselves, but otherwise it always affects the whole world. That

That's absolutely true.

That was Armin Harig in conversation with Lucian Haas. If you're looking for more tips on paragliding in flat terrain, I recommend a special website where Armin himself has collected numerous links and information on the subject. The address is www.skywalk.info/de/flachlandfliegen. Besides that, I recommend taking a look at the show notes for this podcast episode on my blog Lu-Glidz. There, I've put together even more links to special flights, "Erklärbär" videos, and also further interviews with Armin. Let me also briefly remind you of my note from the beginning. Podz-Glidz and Lu-Glidz don't just live on air and love and praise. I appreciate everyone who also supports my work as a patron. How to do that can be found on the Lu-Glidz website, specifically on the Förder page.

Stay safe during the Corona period, look forward to the next episode of Podz-Glidz, spread the word about the podcast, and above all, stay healthy, so that we can all get back into the air with happy hearts soon. Ciao.