I think all this obsession with performance that we're currently seeing is completely counterproductive, because people are getting gliders that have really good performance but are actually really unpleasant to fly. That means they're not suitable for intuitive flying, nor for relaxed flying in turbulence, nor anything else. But they just have this brutal performance. The question is, why am I even doing this to myself as a pilot?
Podz-Glidz, the Lu-Glidz podcast.
Stories from the cosmos of paragliding.
Today with Michael Nesler and Lucian Haas at the microphone.
Hardly any name can be associated with as many diverse references in the paragliding scene as Michael Nesler. Many will first think of the renowned designer who invented the typical rest system for swing gliders today, which is supposed to take the dynamics out of front and side collapses. But Michael Nesler is much closer than that. The 57-year-old is also an acro pilot and flight instructor, has his own construction, develops production software, offers special safety and flight technique training, works as an author and regular columnist for the Thermik magazine, and so on. Amidst all this, Michael Nesler precedes the reputation of a lateral thinker, for whom the freedom of flying also includes the freedom of thought to engage intensively with all aspects of aviation.
And so, this podcast episode number 49 of Podz-Glidz covers a wide range. From flight psychology and the value of fear of flying to leisure. From leisure to intuitive thermals flying, the fun of turbulence, the magic of flight technique, and holistic flying. Michael Nesler explains, among other things, why the constant drive for more performance produces gliders whose other flight characteristics are not at all an advantage for the pilots. And why normal paragliders hardly have a chance to ever verify whether their purchased glider actually flies the way the designer originally planned. Before we start the conversation, just a quick note. Podz-Glidz and the associated blog Lu-Glidz are available online for free, but they are not free of charge.
I invest a significant amount of my working time as a freelance journalist into this. The podcast and blog are part of my livelihood. I would be very happy if you would help me as a supporter to maintain and expand this offering in its independent and ad-free form. How you can become a supporter is stated on the Lu-Glidz website, specifically on the "Support" page. The contribution is completely voluntary, by the way. If you're unsure how much you want to give, I recommend a non-binding one euro per podcast episode and two euros per reading month on Lu-Glidz.
Michael, there are many pilots who might fly for maybe half an hour, then they land and talk about that flight for three hours. Where does that come from?
That's a good question. I can only speak from my own circle. I know the pilots. They fly. Above all, they already talk for quite a long time at the launch site before they even take off. When they finally get into the air, the flight is often relatively short, and then they keep talking after landing. And I think, primarily, it's because paragliding is such an emotional sport—where you're overcome by many emotions while in the air. Probably even before the launch, when you think about what's going to happen. And many people practically have to find an outlet for that by flying afterwards. You have to talk about it. And of course, you also want to share your experiences and your adventures with others.
What's your favorite topic that you especially like to talk about regarding flying?
As for flying itself, of course, the great experiences, especially encounters in flight with other pilots or birds. Maybe sometimes special experiences, like a perfect landing in an area where normally no one flies. And regarding technique, of course, intuitive flying. What does intuitive flying mean? Oh, that's a big topic. But I'll start like this. When you start flying, you usually do it with your head. That means you learn all the techniques, all the theory, and practice as much as possible. And at some point, you can already fly really well. But then it happens, a little bit is still missing. That's the big step. In development or other fields, they call that the 80-20 rule.
That means the 80 percent are reached quickly with your head and a lot of effort. And the last 20 percent then become really difficult. For me, those last 20 percent are intuitive flying. That means where your perception, your motor skills, practically the entire action then takes place more or less only intuitively. That means you don't have to think. I have to intervene now. I don't have to uncircle, for example. Instead, it just feels that way and you do it almost automatically. Of course, you can push that very far up with practice and a system.
Is that what other people might call a gut feeling? Like, flying just from your gut?
Yes, it goes beyond just a gut feeling, because you have to link it to your perception as well. But gut feeling is, of course, a huge part of it. Exactly, intuition.
And does this intuition always beat the head? Like, is it better?
No, that's a good question. Because that's the art of training yourself and practicing it all so that you can truly rely on your intuition. Because ultimately, intuition is just a product of all your inputs—what you get through your senses and your experience. And that has to be processed correctly. And the art of it is training and learning it in such a way that you actually get a good result from it.
How can I train my intuition while flying?
Oh, that's a long road.
That means there are certainly different ways to go about it. What I like to recommend is that you start by working with your perception. And not just seeing and the sense of movement, but also focusing on smelling, feeling it through your skin, and so on. That means you try to involve all your senses. And specifically, alternating them at the beginning, because you can't do them all at once. And if you practice that over and over, say for one minute per sense per flight, it will eventually slip into your subconscious. And then, of course, you can process multiple channels at the same time.
But if you're talking about, for example, the skin, that's something where we'd have to say we'd have to fly in a T-shirt all the time to do it properly. Because usually, we bundle ourselves up in some kind of flight overalls or heavy jackets and closed harnesses and all that, where you might not pick up much at all.
Well, you're provoking me just the right way. I say that whenever possible, fly with as few clothes as you can. I even fly barefoot in the summer. You just have to feel the air, because the air is what we move in. We need a connection to it. And as soon as I have larger areas of skin exposed—not, of course, if I'm freezing in the winter, but when it's warm, that's a good opportunity. Then I notice every change in the air, every pressure change, I feel the temperature when it shifts. And I actually always know what the air is trying to tell me. And at first, I do it through my head, of course. I try to check and grasp the senses. And over time, it becomes automatic and is communicated through gut feeling.
In the winter, of course, I can't fly topless. But even in winter, I try to at least keep my face clear. So, I don't fly with a balaclava.
What do you feel on your face then? Is it mainly the temperature differences, or do you just notice, for example, that a turbulence is coming and you simply feel the airflow on your face increase briefly, it gets a bit colder, or whatever?
Yeah, you get a lot of information. The first thing, of course, is the temperature. I notice the temperature changing before the vario or anything else triggers. So, something warm is coming from below upwards. I notice a pressure difference, for example, when the wind increases or decreases. It can also be on the left or right side. You know it's probably going to be turbulent. And the cool thing is, before the turbulence and the thermals reach the glider, where they actually show their effect, they pass by me. And you then have an eight-meter distance, which I can react to.
That would mean this is a turbulence that really only comes from below. So it only reaches you first, and then the glider. Exactly.
And if
if it's, for example, a larger thermals bubble that you're flying into from the side, then the turbulence at the top of the glider is just as fast as it is for you.
Exactly, it's just as fast. But there's the inertia of the mass until the glider reacts to it; that takes time. There's always a delay due to the mass. First, the airflow has to change, and then you have to do something with that.
By then you've already felt it and can react accordingly, for example by pulling the brake a little to say, I'm keeping the angle of attack in a healthy range.
Exactly. Or the opposite. When I notice lift coming in, I usually even release the brake.
You once wrote a book called Nestflucht. And now you also have an online continuing education series called Überflieger, with very well-made videos in which you explain a lot of things. You also explain this intuitive thermals flying there. But there are also a few other chapters that I just find the titles nice. There's one called Fun with Turbulence. Now, that's something a pilot would normally think, I don't want turbulence. How can you have fun with turbulence?
Well, let's just say, the prerequisite is, of course, that you know your gear, that you trust your gear, and just building that trust in a piece of equipment is already a bit of a journey you have to take. And it's also like, let me go back a bit, a paraglider actually has to collapse. That means the more intelligent one gives way. In this case, the paraglider, if it gets turbulence or incorrect currents, it collapses instead of converting the whole thing into speed. If the paraglider were a fixed wing, then it would be connected by lines and accelerated by every bit of turbulence, and specifically in a direction that I can no longer control. We tried that once before. I once had a paraglider with a compressed air spar.
It obviously couldn't collapse or deform. Because of that, it would dive under my feet whenever it got really turbulent. And it was actually uncontrollable. Was that...
like a tube kite, in terms of the concept, with like an inflated sausage at the front of the nose, right?
Not quite at the front, but on the B-plane, so that it spans radically from left to right. And the cool thing about the paraglider is, as I said, that with incorrect airflow and turbulence, it gives way, collapses briefly, and then opens up and just continues on very obediently. That means the paraglider is actually predestined to be flown even in very turbulent air. That is to say, I notice when it gets turbulent, when the paraglider gives way, it's time for me to maybe look for another spot. But overall, if the pilot knows what they're doing and isn't overwhelmed by their gear, it's extremely safe to fly in turbulence. And once I've built up that feeling and understanding for it, then turbulence can be really fun.
Because turbulence usually has the side effect of also going upwards. Let's put it that way. I obviously don't fly into a rotor or into turbulence where it only goes downwards. But if you have a really stubborn, turbulent thermal, that can be a lot of fun. Above all, it is a challenge. If I center the thermal correctly, it goes up. If I center it poorly, I get tossed around. And that means I have to learn something. I have to accept the challenge.
Would you recommend to your pilots that they keep challenging themselves with turbulent thermals so that they can actually learn it? Because you can't learn it without dealing with that kind of stuff. But at the same time, trying it over and over again isn't necessarily without risk.
Well, that doesn't mean you're going to drive here tomorrow with a full wing and just go for it. It means that if you go flying and notice the turbulence is getting to the point where you don't like it anymore, but it would still take you up, then check your distance to the ground and think about whether you could handle smaller flaps. And then just try it out. And you'll see. If you center them properly, you can fly those kinds of turbulences and thermals too. And that improves from flight to flight.
How can you cleanly center turbulent thermals?
Oh, the next topic, which is very, very technical. In principle, there's only one that knows how to center the thermals. And that's your glider. It's right there in the action, it's creating the lift. And what you do down there is actually mostly just disruptive. That means if you give the glider the right bank and don't brake too much, it will find its way into the center of the thermals on its own.
What works against that is the pilot. Just look at most pilots when they're flying in thermals. They're working the brakes non-stop. Inside brake, outside brake, weight shift, and trying to control it constantly. But that's usually too late, because it's the glider in the thermals, not the pilot. That means by the time the information comes from the top down and back again, a lot of time has passed. My approach is to fix the inside brake. That means you give it the right bank angle. Through weight shift, you take the inside brake and set it the way you feel is right. And with the outside brake, you do as little as possible. And with that technique, you have it significantly easier in turbulent air than if you have to work constantly down below.
Why is the glider then able to center itself? Many people always think that, for example, if the glider lifts to the right, you have to steer to the right to get into the thermals. And the idea is always that, yeah, the thermals then basically push you away. If it lifts to the right, then I'm basically flying to the left. Why would the glider suddenly have the tendency to position itself so that it stays in the center of the thermals?
You can explain that quite well aerodynamically and also simulate it with the appropriate software. The paraglider is a stable system in straight flight. That means you can hardly get it out of its axis. At the moment you have rising air masses, the paraglider would actually take the path of least resistance. In that case, it would naturally be if it accelerates. But it can't, because you're hanging from a low center of gravity. That means as soon as you put it into a bank, the outside will accelerate. In other words, I move the weight to the right in rising air, then the outside accelerates. And what does it do? It turns into the thermals. Of course, you provide the input. You set the direction through weight shift, but the rest is more or less done by the glider itself.
That means,
but I do need some input from you.
Of course, because you don't want to keep flying straight when you're climbing, you want to circle. That's where intuition comes into play again. You have to notice, is the thermal coming from the left now or more from the right? And as soon as it goes up somewhere, put weight on the side where you feel it's rising, add inside brake, briefly release the outside brake, take a bank, and then very gently stabilize the direction of the turn with the outside brake.
the rotation speed. And then does the paraglider really circle in a way that it always stays in the center?
That's exactly the question I get from every one of our participants over and over again. And all I can say is, try it out, do it consistently, and you'll be surprised by how easily and stably the glider finds its own way. There are a few exceptions, I have to say. Especially beginner gliders, they are very reluctant when it comes to pulling into the thermals. Or older gliders also do that quite reluctantly sometimes. But a modern, well-constructed glider really pulls into the thermals cleanly.
What happens there—I've experimented with that a bit too—is that there's a feeling when the glider pulls harder into the thermals, the outside wing accelerates more. And sometimes, depending on what the thermals are like, it can be so strong at that moment that you naturally have the tendency to immediately set the outside brake and slow it down significantly because you think, "Now it's going to dive away from me." So how do you find that balance where you say, "No, that's still normal circling, it's not drilling away from me right now"? I can just let that run because it really keeps me in the center of this thermal.
A good starting point for that is gravity, or rather centrifugal force in this case. If you notice that the centrifugal force on your body is increasing, then you definitely have too much bank. This means you should aim to fly at around 1.1 Gs, so an almost imperceptible increase in G-force. And above all, the glider should be at the right angle. And that depends on the climb. If I have, for example, 10 meters of climb, you get the best climb rates—the best sink rate—when the glider is relatively far ahead of you. That means you can build up a bit of G-force there and almost spiral upwards. But if you have very weak climbs, then you practically shouldn't have any increase in centrifugal force at all, and you should use the outside brake to brake properly so that it turns really flat and slowly with the correct bank.
And you'll notice it—if the bank angle increases on its own, it means you have to apply the outside brake. But that's material for a whole week. To...
train to do that, do you mean?
That needs to be checked first. You have to try it and really understand it.
In your courses, there's also a point called the Magic of Flight Technique. Does that belong to this magic? And what else belongs to the Magic of Flight Technique?
In that part, we more or less reveal tricks and ways to deal with limitations. A typical limitation, for example, is a lie-down harness, especially if it doesn't have a seat board. That has certain disadvantages in turbulence and when flying thermals, and then a few tricks come to light on how you can overcome those disadvantages. Or a classic is when people start flying with a lie-down harness, they usually have the wrong angle. That means the short bag is either hanging downwards or they are even slightly crooked when flying straight ahead regarding the leg bag. And there, for example, the first tip is: you make a little flag on the tip of your foot with a wool thread and try to always keep that flag pointing in the direction of flight.
And that little trick alone will immensely improve your performance—your glide performance—during line leading. And there are a whole lot of things, tips and tricks, that come up in that topic.
Another term you read about in books, but also frequently in posts you write for the Thermikmagazin or something like that, is "holistic flying." For example, in paragliding. It sounds almost a bit esoteric. What do you understand by that?
Well, first of all, I understand it as this: when I go flying, I have my gear, and my gear is what carries me through the air. That's the paraglider itself, the harness, and everything. And for the whole thing to become a single unit, you first have to understand each other. It's like a partnership. I get to know someone, learn their strengths, and eventually their weaknesses too, and I have to learn how to deal with them.
It's like a perfectly coordinated team. And for me, that also means I can't just buy a glider and immediately keep flying with it like I did with the old one; I have to commit to it, I have to learn to understand it, I might have to fly a few maneuvers, I have to recalibrate my intuition regarding the gear, and so on and so forth. And then integrate all of that into the flight conditions. That's a huge field because all the important parameters come into play there. That's why it's holistic. So, meaning intuition, technique, equipment, environment, and so on and so forth. You
You just said that when you get a new glider, you have to adjust to it, recalibrate your intuition. Now, you have an incredible amount of experience with an incredible number of different models that you've built yourself and that you constantly test and fly. How long do you need to adjust to a new model?
Now I can tell you a bit about that. I just got a new prototype briefly. It's winter now, so the flights are relatively short. I did the first flights with it—so to speak, glides in Bassano, because there was hardly any thermals and so on. The wing actually felt pretty good to me as a first prototype in the new series.
And I had the impression that I'd already built some kind of relationship with it. And then came the day when it was really thermal and turbulent. At times, it went up to 2,300. And after 20 minutes, I realized, "Whoa, there's still something to be done here, and there's still something that could be improved." And I still have to learn some things myself, and so on and so forth. And after two hours, I had the impression that I was getting reasonably close to the wing. I mean, it also depends a bit. I can't define it in terms of time or flights; it's also condition-dependent. If it's really thermal and turbulent, you can build that relationship faster. If you're only doing glides, it can certainly take forever. That
does that mean you need turbulence to make your glider your own?
Yes, exactly. You have to build trust. You have to see which of your actions he reacts best to. You have to see where his limits are and yours. And that is already
a bit of work. Now you just said that was a prototype, a first prototype of a new series. How exciting is something like that for you, when you say, okay, I have a new glider and now a new prototype is coming, the first flight—does your heart still pound out of your chest and you notice the adrenaline kicking in and there's a lot of nervousness? Or is that, after so many years of engineering, actually just become routine by now?
No, that always depends on what kind of prototype it is. If it's an evolution, an improvement, or built on a known project, then the first flight, the first takeoff, is still relatively relaxed. I'm certainly not as calm as I would be with a production model, and I do pay attention to the conditions I go out in. However, if it's an experimental prototype, I'd say I'm pretty terrified at the beginning. You never know what's going to happen. Then you start
you also start with very gentle glides and first check, is it even flying straight or something else?
No, I start by inflating it. While inflating it, I can actually already tell if it flies reasonably well or not. It's best with a bit of wind, and then I'll go into reasonably good thermals. I really dislike doing practice slope soaring because if something isn't right, you have very little altitude and very little time.
Let's talk a bit about your history as a paraglider designer. How, when, and how did you actually become a designer?
Oh, that was ages ago. I started flying in '86. Back then, we bought the company from France from Jean-Marc Beauvoir. He used to build the things himself. And at some point, we found out that Bichlmeier was also selling and building gliders in Munich, Germany. So the idea was, we're going to buy the next glider from them. I went over there once, met him, and took the opportunity to see how they develop the gliders. At that time, they were cutting the profiles out of wooden templates, and they practically assembled them with spacers so that it looked like a wooden paraglider. Then they laid the lines over it and traced them with a pen along the profile ribs, which were made of wood.
And that is a massive undertaking. You need a good carpenter and a good draftsman and, well, a lot of time and money. I told the owner at the time that I could make him software that calculates that, because I'm a programmer. And he said that would be cool. So we developed software that processes the lines, where you can reasonably calculate a paraglider on a computer. And then we printed out every single line overnight on huge needle printers.
Yes, and that's how it all started. And it went on step by step, until I developed my own software, which was used by the majority of manufacturers back in the 90s. But it also requires a lot of knowledge, in terms of construction and so on. So it's not a parametric model, it's a real drafting program. Some people still use it today, but in the meantime, that software has been replaced by parametric software that is very easy to use.
So, do you still work with your software, or do you use this parametric one now, or do you mix both methods, or how does that work?
So for simple things like further development, design changes, and stuff like that, I use the parametric software. For complex things, like experimental stuff, I use my own.
If you developed the software at the beginning, when did you make your first own glider where you could actually say, "Designer Michael Nesler"?
Ah, that went pretty fast. So the first gliders I made for Bichlmeier, like the Easy, were already made with my software. He then also told me I should fly the first proto myself, because after all, I was the one who designed it. And yes, it flew. And that's basically where it started. I actually made a statistic a while back just for fun, for information. I'm now at over 500 approved gliders. So including different sizes and models.
Can you also put together all the brands you've already designed for? I'll put them together,
but I'm not supposed to pass that on.
So there are also brands for which you've designed things secretly, where they don't even want to mention the name?
Well, yeah, I've never been employed by any company; I've had my own company from the start, doing design for third parties. And of course, there have been times when I've mainly worked for one company, or still do. But we've also repeatedly done individual projects for manufacturers who ordered sporadically and don't necessarily want people to know where the gliders come from.
If we don't name names but talk about a number, how many different manufacturers could that be? Wow, I've actually never thought about that. But I'd guess at least 12, 15 of them. You're actually a very freedom-loving person. How free are you then, as a designer, when you're doing something on behalf of others? There are market constraints, there are your client's constraints—who, of course, says it can't cost more than or whatever. How do you deal with that? How much freedom do you still have?
Oh, that's a good question. And that's also one of the issues where some collaborations eventually fall apart. When I'm designing, it's always about the end customer being satisfied. That means the pilot who flies the thing has to enjoy it, have to feel safe in it—it has to be good for them. Because no matter how much I design or how much money I make from it, my primary concern is that the aircraft actually works and is fun to fly. And when constraints come in, like it can't cost much, it has to be produced cheaper, and it has to be done fast because the market expects a new model, then as a client, you're making it pretty difficult for me.
Because I'm not willing to make any weird compromises. That has led to breakups and a lot of trouble in the past, but at the end of the day, I just feel more comfortable this way. Because, as you hinted before, I do a lot of training, I'm out flying a lot with other pilots. If one of them gets in there and says the craft sucks and I can't handle it at all, that's not good for me. I don't want that. I also want to be able to sleep well at night.
When you're developing a glider like this, and of course, there are constraints from the client and such—when is a glider model actually finished for you? Or is there even a feeling that a glider model is finished? Because development always keeps going, and I can well imagine you developing something and saying, "Okay, I'm actually at that point now," but then you have three other ideas on how you could further develop it again. How do you deal with that?
Well, before you start on the whole thing, you do a goal-setting meeting. That means you talk about what the glider should be able to do, which other models it should be comparable to in terms of performance and so on. You talk about what kind of maneuver behavior it needs to have and what special features it requires. And then the first protos come, and when I'm at the point where I can say it meets those requirements to some extent, then you move on to fine-tuning and airtime. That's when a lot more things come up that can be improved. But at some point, you also have to set a time goal. And if, let's say, 90 percent of what we want is achieved, then you can say it could go into production.
The interesting thing is that over the course of the series, which runs for two to three years, a lot of little things come to light that could still be improved, and those then get included in the next successor model. But in principle, there's never an end.
So, does that mean the actual production series and the pilots flying them are, in a way, still your test pilots?
Well, not exactly test pilots, because when it comes to safety and performance, that's measurable. You can easily compare and test that. But let's put it this way: for the feedback, or the feedback I get from the pilots over the course of the production run—so two to three years—I take that in and try to implement it so that they're more satisfied next time.
How do you get this feedback? Is it mainly pilots who are participating in your trainings and whom you can speak to directly? Or are there also actual pilots who fly your products and then say, "I'll send you an email," and then provide you with feedback that way?
There are different types of input. One is, of course, all the training sessions we do. I get the feedback directly there. I can also look at it myself. Then on flight trips or when I'm out in flying areas, I ask people how they're happy with the glider they're currently flying, what they think could be done better, what they'd like to be different, and so on. I also do private Facebook polls every now and then. For example, what should a new ENB glider look like for you? What should it have differently compared to the current one?
And those kinds of surveys also help, of course. Well, that's actually what I'm always accused of, especially from the manufacturer's side, that I don't look after the sellers. That I should ask the flight schools more, or the sellers, the dealers.
But I think the pilots are actually the ones who have to deal with it in the end.
You just did a survey about this B-glider. I think you only did that two or three months ago. At least, I saw it on Facebook. From the results you pulled out for yourself, did you get a different conclusion than what most manufacturers might think people want? I mean, do some manufacturers design or plan things completely out of touch with the market?
Yeah, just for your information, I got 670 responses for that survey. Oh, that
are quite a few.
Above all, complete answers. I believe there were 15 questions to answer, some requiring text, so not just yes or no. And the realization was that we are very much designing past the needs and desires of our customers. At least in the past. There were several points where people said, wow, that's completely different from what I imagined. Now, of course, there's always the issue with surveys—you never know who's answering them. And it could be a very specific customer group. But for example, one of the points that surprised the thermals completely is that for most people, it's more important that the glider is well-made and flies well than the price. And that is completely contrary to what most manufacturers are doing at the moment.
They're trying to lower their production costs.
But it's also something when you look at how the market normally operates, of course everyone wants a good price. And then people say, many of those who also complain, yeah, that gliders have become too expensive. And now there are gliders that cost more than 4,000 euros and so on. And that would already be completely out of touch with the actual user. Yeah. And so on.
Let's just say, the price is created based on the work, the development costs, the materials, and everything that goes into it. And if you compare that quite objectively with the normal sports industry—let's take a Mammut jacket or products from Salewa or whatever—and I were to apply that to a completely normal paraglider that currently costs 4,000 euros, then I would have to quote a price of at least 6,500 euros. That would essentially be the same process for calculating the final price as in the normal sports industry. Of course, nobody wants to shell out 7,000 or 6,000 euros for a paraglider, and that's why it hasn't been done until today.
Except maybe for the Phantom from Nova, which also cost its 6,000 and has at least found a few buyers already.
Exactly. Let's just say, the effort has to be paid for. And if you look at the whole scene, none of the manufacturers or sellers are getting really rich. Mhm. They mostly do it because they enjoy it, because they can make a decent living from it, but it's not a job to make money. And that's the basis the whole thing moves on. That means if you try to build a good glider at a very good price. But there are limits. The limits are when I start taking on productions that are extremely cheap, then I go to Vietnam or there are plenty of cheap production countries. I save on material, I save on the type of processing, meaning I'd then cut 16 layers by hand instead of one layer by laser, and so on and so forth.
You can really save a lot there. And of course, the brands have an advantage if they have their own production.
Because they can save more, or because they don't have to pay the middleman, so to speak?
Exactly. In the worst-case scenario, they only have to make a profit once. So, not on production plus then distribution here—meaning the brand—but if they have their own production, they make a profit at one point and can pass that on.
That means all the manufacturers with their own production—but those are usually only the large manufacturers who can actually afford their own production. That means they stand alone, they're big, and then with another production of their own, they're actually even more economical.
Exactly. That's the typical chicken and egg problem. But once I'm big enough, I can afford my own production, and then I get even bigger.
You also just mentioned quality, like cutting 16 layers of fabric at once with a knife to achieve mass production. Now, everyone in the paraglider scene, I'd say, is always eyeing the performance of the gliders and asking if this glider is better than the previous one and so on. Well, I read a statement of yours in an interview where it said that a glider's performance actually depends 35 percent on the construction, 25 percent on the material, and 40 percent on the production—or rather, the production quality. Explain these connections to me.
Okay.
As a designer, you draw the glider on the computer and have certain ideas of how it should look afterwards. Everything you draw on the computer should fly as true to life as possible in the air. That means if I draw the glider now and it flies in the air and has wrinkles, distortions, changes the angles, and so on, then that's not what I calculated on the computer and what I did the simulations for. In other words, it won't achieve the performance and safety I actually imagined. If I go ahead and have the first prototype built—prototypes are almost always cut with a laser and sewn together with very high precision. They put in a lot of effort because they have the time. Prototypes cost a lot more money than a series.
And then I get the first proto and it flies really well. But if I then go into series production, that can change instantly. Because if they start cutting the upper and lower rib paths with a rotating blade or even a saw instead of a laser—meaning with many layers, sometimes 16, there are even companies that do even more—then I have distortions of one or two millimeters per rib, which adds up to a lot of stuff when calculated over 50 cells, for example. You then notice that the glider doesn't stand as wrinkle-free anymore, that it might turn in one direction when you go full throttle, that some lines sag which didn't sag on the first prototype even though they have the same length, and so on.
Yes, you can just notice that, and it costs a bit of performance. And of course, you then try to trim that out again, which sometimes works and sometimes doesn't. But the fact is, even in a good serial production, if I order ten identical gliders and fly them against each other, there will always be some that fly really well, one of them will fly pretty poorly, and the rest will move around in the middle range. How can
how can I, as a simple pilot, find out if the glider I want to buy or have bought is actually built cleanly, cut properly, and sewn correctly, and that it's not basically a lemon that I just happened to get? Is there any way for a layman to recognize that at all? I mean,
I'm afraid you can't do that. I mean, you wouldn't even know a reliable way to find out. Unless, of course, you get two or three test gliders and just fly them into each other.
But nobody does that. Or do you know people who do?
Professional competition pilots definitely do that. They order three or four Ansos, fly them, and then they take the best one.
But they basically can't fly directly next to each other either. So maybe there's a bit of a gut feeling involved, but not really a direct comparison where you can say one is clearly better than the other at gliding, right? The air is always different.
That's true, but for example, during these months in Bassano, you can observe it well: the competition pilots come with their new rigs, they do comparisons, they switch with each other, and then they do their glides out into the valley, at full throttle, half throttle, and so on. And they basically use the time with few thermals to figure out the gear for the competition season and get it properly dialed in. So, what they're doing is a very systematic comparison.
With competition pilots, you can totally understand why performance is so much in the foreground. But even for an average pilot, an enormous amount of attention is still paid to performance. And I keep getting inquiries from pilots saying, "Well, Lucian, does this glider perform better or that one? What's your experience with that?" and so on. Why is performance still one of the main selling points for paragliders, actually? Why does it resonate so much?
Oh, let's just say performance is basically the only thing you can talk and write about without having any clue. I mean, all the different tests and so on—yeah, it's just a bit better, you can see it when you fly in comparison, you have a bit more performance, and you can't really describe or evaluate anything else anyway. Whether that performance is actually accessible for a normal pilot or a hobby pilot doesn't really matter in that context. I'm against it too, because paragliding—if you're not really flying professional races or setting world records in cross-country flying—is a sport that's supposed to give you fun and fulfillment. In that case, performance isn't necessarily, how shall I put it, the deciding factor.
I think the whole performance craze we're currently into is completely counterproductive, because people are getting gliders that have really good performance, but are actually unpleasant to fly. That means they're neither suitable for intuitive flying nor for relaxed flying, turbulence, or anything else. But they have this brutal performance. The question is, why am I even putting myself through that as a pilot?
You just said that gliders oriented towards performance aren't that good for intuitive flying. Why not? What does a performance glider have, or what does a performance glider need, that a good, intuitively flyable glider then loses?
Well, that's due to the design. When I make a glider that has maximum glide performance, it has handling limitations because I have to ensure that I get enough lift and enough speed all the way into the outermost stabilizer area so that the glide is good. And of course, the more I optimize the outer wing, the worse the handling becomes indirectly. And also the feedback that I get back from the glider to the pilot. Why? There are so many parameters that influence that, and it's always cause and effect. But ultimately, it's quite understandable: the more you trim or design the glider for maximum glide, the worse the overall characteristics become.
I don't quite understand that yet. Why does it interfere with the handling if I have a bit more lift on the outer wing?
That's one of the points, but it's explained relatively simply. If I have more lift on the outer wing, I have a higher angle of attack on the outer wing. If I have a higher angle of attack on the outer wing, I hit the brake and stall the flow earlier on the outer wing. That means, first of all, I have shorter control paths, which I then have to extend elsewhere for certification. And even with little braking, I get into the polar region with the profiles in the outer area, where the inherent sink rate increases significantly again. Then the control effect is less and when turning, the...
...performance. That means you get increased turn -sink when you try to fly tight turns.
Exactly. And you have to pull more just to make it around the curve at all. Because you know, the further out you apply the brake, the longer the lever, and the easier the curve.
Well, there have been various trends in recent years trying to increase performance. Fewer lines were installed, the lines became thinner, 3D shaping, and all that. But you get the impression that everything is now coming to an end at some kind of plateau where, at least, no major performance gains are possible anymore without a massive amount of effort. Shouldn't we slowly start moving away from this worship or this performance fetishism as a paraglider industry and instead really start focusing on other selling points?
Of course. It would be nice if that were the case. But that also means the entire industry and everything associated with it would have to build the competence to evaluate not just performance, but everything else as well. And that is a very interesting topic. We still have a lot of work ahead of us there.
What would be some points where you'd say, these are different criteria—different criteria than performance, but that one could still somehow be evaluated in a comparable way? Does that even exist? Or is it something like, handling has a lot to do with gut feeling and intuition, and sometimes also flight technique, where one person says the glider doesn't turn at all and the next one flies it and says, I don't even know what your problem is. It's also partly dependent on the harness and other things. Is there any way to make reasonable comparisons there, so that a buyer could actually say, here, I know this one has four stars for handling and the other only has two, and that actually holds water in terms of the judgment? I
I think we could take a bit of inspiration from the auto industry, because especially the super sports cars and also the higher-end, more expensive cars are constantly being tested and published by various media outlets, and they don't just give a purely technical opinion—some do, but there are also many who describe what they feel when they're driving the thing around. And paragliding is just as, how shall I put it, emotional and based on fun and feeling, and it wouldn't be bad at all if the tester—the one evaluating or describing the glider—actually said how they experience and feel the whole thing, for example, whether the glider pulls into the thermals, whether it's easy to control via the outside brake, or whether it needs a lot of input via the inside brake,
whether it's stable in turbulence and... and, and, well, there are many parameters.
And for example, one thing that's completely missing from all the tests, but which is a very important test for me when I get a prototype or a glider I have to check, is whether the thing actually gets off the ground in level flight with a light wind if I just clip into the carabiners without pulling on the risers. Because with that, I can already determine a lot—whether the glider starts cleanly, whether it pulls into the thermals, what its behavior is like. It's a very simple exercise, but it makes...
none. That means if I launch it hands-free now and it doesn't start, does that mean it's a bad glider?
You can't really say that in general, because we'd be making a mess of things. The gliders I design have to come up, have to reach the zenith, and do it linearly if I only pull them up via the carabiners on the ground with a slight headwind—meaning without pulling on the risers. And then I feel personally comfortable with it; I know the glider is flying and I know it shouldn't be doing any tricks. If it gets stuck now and I have to pull like an ox and it won't get up, then I have a clear lack of trust. And I wouldn't give or recommend that glider to anyone. Except for acro gliders, of course, they are naturally a bit different.
Let's take a look at the glider for a bit. Let's look back at your design history. Are there actually gliders that you brought to market, or that other companies brought to market but that you designed, which came out where you would say today, in hindsight, they actually weren't ready at all?
Yes, yes, definitely. There are several. Let's say a classic was the Akron. It wasn't ready, nor did it fly particularly well. It just had to be done quickly. And yeah, the Protos weren't that bad. In the series, it didn't perform poorly at all, front or back. And there are always models that are okay, but not really what you imagine as a designer.
And in return, are there other models that you might say were like your favorite models in your design career, where you'd say, those are the highlights? Or is it always the newest glider you're making right now that's your highlight? Or do you say, no, you know, back in 1995, this one and that one?
No, for me it's like this: I have my personal favorite gliders that I just enjoyed flying. I have to say, when I'm not flying for work and I go flying privately, I fly the glider that gives me the most fun. And there were several in the past, for example, the Escape from OP, that was one of my absolute favorite gliders. The Nemeton from Wings of Change was one of my absolute favorite gliders. At the moment, I also find the Helios to be a really cool glider. But there are always models that I just like. And it's not just that I like flying the performance models. There were, or there are, models I've designed that were intended for the beginner target group, with which you can have an immense amount of fun and that I can also fly in conditions where others are better off staying on the ground.
Throughout your design career, you've also realized a whole range of special features on gliders that could only be found on the gliders you built. One example was with Wings of Change gliders, where there were flaps on the upper sail intended to improve the gate behavior. Then there were, for instance, variable air intakes on Icaro, where the opening at the front was larger during takeoff than in actual flight. At Swing, you supplied models with adaptive profiles for a while, which then only become significantly cambered when you accelerate them, before the actual A-line is pulled down. And above all, you are now known at Swing for the so-called rest system, where a transverse wall is built into the middle of the glider.
Out of all these special solutions, which one are you most proud of, where you'd say, "That's a real innovation"?
Look, we can speak openly. There are always solutions that might bring very, very little or nothing at all, but simply make a difference. For example, the openings, like with Icaro,
they contributed a bit, but not enough to say it's a significant performance increase; it was just visually nicer. It was a nice gag, it contributed a tiny bit at full throttle, but otherwise no major innovation. But it was at least a difference compared to everything else on the market. And with Rast, it's completely different. Rast emerged from solving a real problem. That's actually my favorite child, because Rast enables things for me that weren't possible before. For example, I can build gliders with high aspect ratios that have the extreme flight behavior of the same glider with half the aspect ratio less. For example, I currently have a glider in development that has a 5.8 aspect ratio, but it has the flight behavior of one with 5.2.
I had it confirmed during certification; it basically only has one. And you can just tell that Rast is working. And I know there are always critics, mostly people who have never flown it themselves. They say Rast doesn't work anyway. The advantage of Rast is that you can prove extremely well that it works, and above all, how it works.
Now, for listeners who might not know what a RAST is yet, could you briefly explain what it's all about?
We already touched on this at the very beginning of this podcast. The paraglider has to be able to give way. That means a paraglider has to be able to collapse. In a collapse, when it gives way, it's about the area that generates lift being deformed and temporarily losing lift. But when the paraglider collapses, it's not just the front area where the lift is generated that collapses, but usually the entire surface. That includes the rear area as well. This means the glider empties enormously, because everything that collapses lets the air out. And I no longer have a trailing edge on the collapsed side that I can control with the brake or keep under control. And the idea with the Rast is to separate the front and rear areas,
so that for a short time, the air cannot escape from the rear area at all, but only the front, lift-generating area is deformed and empties, while the entire rear part remains intact. Because of this, collapses are significantly less deep; they don't collapse with the entire trailing edge, and the inflation time is much shorter because the rear part is still full. It's also the case that in real flight operations, almost all collapses only go as far as the wall, because at the moment it collapses, the pilot intuitively goes on the brake. This even increases the pressure in the rear area further, then the valves close and the air can't get out of the back. It's then as if you had a spar in the back.
But only for a very short time, for the duration of a turbulence.
To what extent does this Rast wall—this cross-stitched fabric wall that's there—also serve a structural purpose for the construction you have?
Well, I sometimes misuse the wall to replace the V-ribs, because where the wall is, they're sewn onto the profile on the left and right, so I don't need V-ribs in that area and I don't need tension bands in that area either, because those are the valves of the Rast at the same time. And funnily enough, we just did a load test recently, until open end, meaning until the glider is shredded, at the DHV. There's a video of that too; you can see how eventually the lines at the front snap and it breaks up to the Rast, but at the Rast it stops and the rear area remains undamaged. So it's also a question of strength. But that wasn't known until now.
How does that work in terms of construction? I mean, when manufacturers produce their gliders and sew in some tension bands and stuff like that, they often say, okay, I'll cut through them in between and see how that changes, see how the stress distribution changes. But if you say your Rast wall also has one, yeah, it also takes up stresses—so transverse stresses accordingly—you can't just cut through that and say, now I'm trying out what happens. And you can't just move it or quickly sew it somewhere else or anything like that. Does that mean it's much, much more complex in terms of construction effort? Do you simply need many more prototypes from the start with a Rast glider to get there?
Not anymore, but I have to go back to the beginning. When I built the first glider with a ridge, I went to Ecuador with them in the winter, sat on the coast there for a month and a half, and manually rebuilt the ridge together with my test pilots. That means we cut the ridge walls apart, glued them back together with different spacings using adhesive fabric, changed the valves, and so on and so forth, and just looked at how the behavior changed. And based on all those experiments, we learned relatively quickly, and today it's such that with known pilots and new profiles, I get the ridge position and the tension for the ridge right. With new profiles and prototypes that are experimental, you just have to see how it behaves after.
It can happen that I cut through the glider and glue it back together with a different length. But what doesn't work, for example, is just throwing a glider into an existing wing that doesn't have one. You have to design the wing for the glider from the very beginning.
Is this specific construction effort and the fact that the design is completely oriented towards Rast also a reason why no other companies have adopted this technology yet?
I think there are many reasons for that. The main reason, of course, is that if I, as a brand, release a glider with Rast, it means it's an admission that Rast works, so I have to release all the other models with Rast in the shortest possible time. Otherwise, the sales of the non-Rast gliders from the brand will probably collapse. You could really notice that with Swing. As soon as they had the first gliders with Rast, people weren't really interested in the other gliders anymore. That's why we also redesigned all models with Rast at Swing within a very short time. And that was, of course, a huge constructive and financial effort. And you have to be able to handle that first. That's especially difficult in times like now. Another point is that in our scene, it's always like this, or as it is in all other areas, envy and pride.
And before you admit to someone that something actually works well, you'd rather break it first. And that's kind of a shame, because the only victim in that is the pilot. Personally, I don't care at all whether another company uses Rast or not. I just think it's great when I come across a pilot every now and then—like just recently in Bassano—who shakes my hand. I don't know him at all, but he says, "Say thanks, but your Rast saved my life." That one sentence alone is worth more than anything else.
We were just talking about performance obsession and the drive toward it. Does Rast improve the performance of a glider in any way? I mean, if you were to build a glider with similar parameters, with or without Rast, would the one with Rast fly better?
That's a good question, we've tested it repeatedly and it's also been quite well documented in Italy. In calm air, Rast doesn't provide any performance benefit at all. The more turbulent the air becomes—meaning if you're gliding on a slope in turbulent air with lift and sink—the greater the difference between identical gliders with and without Rast. That is to say, if I have extremely turbulent air where it's going up and down, every time I get lift, the Rast glider accelerates forward because pressure builds up at the back and makes the whole thing stiffer. This means the wave motion in the rear area is prevented. It then gets a kind of push from behind, and with every turbulence, I'm a little bit higher and a little bit further forward.
But that only works, of course, if the air is turbulent. Alternatively, you can also do that with rods. That is, it's about the fact that from the B-line onwards, the glider starts to give way at the back in turbulent air. That means it makes a movement, like a wave between the trailing edge and the B-line. And the stiffer that area were, the better the glider would push, meaning converting the turbulence into forward speed and lift. It can do that now either through rods or through increased internal pressure, like with the Rast.
That means rods means that in the rear wing, I have a fully stacked rear wing so that it stays as rigid as possible against the upper sail. Exactly, right. If you were to build a competition wing with Rast, for example, would you say that Rast would then function just as well as these fully stacked CCC wings that exist today, in terms of performance as well?
So we currently have a competition glider in the works with Rast and with rods, and I think that combination really makes a difference. I mean, the Rast is twice as stiff as before. It then is...
but also really all the way to the back, basically smoothed out, so probably with Nitinol rods in your case, right? Yeah, exactly. Let's jump to a completely different topic. You said you started flying at 86, so you've been at it for 34 years now. Why and for what do you fly? Okay, so you mean flying or flying as a job? No, flying. That flying is also work for you, or that flying is related to work, that's clear. But you go, as you say yourself, you still go private flying with enthusiasm, and you take the glider that suits you best for that at the moment. And what does flying still give you today after so many years?
Well, for me, flying is primarily about getting away from the ground. That means actually taking off, seeing the world from above, looking at the landscape from up there, and flying with the birds. Of course, it's also about improving my technique, my intuition, and training them. I always find it great when I get into areas or situations where I feel afraid, learning to deal with that fear or improving how I handle it. Personally, I think it's extremely cool to fly between or above the clouds. Unfortunately, that's not legal everywhere, but I don't think there's anything cooler than looking at the edge of the clouds, at the cumulus wave, and then flying out over the cloud into the valley.
Those are the kinds of experiences I can think about and enjoy for weeks afterwards.
You just said something interesting. Let me rephrase it a bit, but you said you fly to have fear. I've never heard that from anyone before. What appeals to you about having fear? What does it give you?
Well, first I'd like to meet someone who isn't afraid of flying. Everyone has it.
Fear, but I don't know anyone who says, "I go flying to feel afraid."
Do you know the saying, courage isn't the absence of fear, but how you deal with it? That's such a classic. If I go flying now and I get into a situation where things get really intense and I start to notice, I'm getting scared, then it depends on how I react to it, how I handle it. And if I consciously engage with the fear in that moment and look at what I can do with it—because it's actually my partner, it's trying to tell me something, it wants to help me or protect me—then I can flip it so that thanks to the fear, I reach achievements or solutions that otherwise wouldn't be possible at all. And I naturally grow from that. And in the end, flying is always about learning something new for me. When I can't learn anything more, then I can stop.
Which situation can you remember particularly well where you felt really scared, but also learned a lot from it?
Wow, there are always some of those. I have to say, when I'm flying normally or just out on my own, I almost never get malfunctions or collapses. That means I end up in situations where I know I can control the glider, but I have to get out of here. That's when the anxiety level goes up and I try to find a way to exit the situation.
Situations where I was really under stress or scared—I once had an upliner at 800 meters in Bassano, a total austliner during a test flight. I had to pull the rescue in freefall, and it didn't want to open at first because the wind load had caused the container to pack too tightly. It eventually opened. It was a steering parade. The steering lines broke during the opening. That means I couldn't control the Rogallo anymore. Yeah, then the thing was open. You feel relieved until you realize you have a groundspeed of 50 with a tailwind and can't control the thing. And then you start getting really stressed. But fortunately, the situation ended completely without incident. But those are the moments where you think, I'm stuck here, I can't do anything anyway, I give up.
...or I prepare for a hard landing, roll off, and I'll make it. I have to say, it takes courage, I have to fight, I want to survive. But once you've made it, you say, it was a shitty situation, but I really learned something from it. But
The fear of what happened, that probably only kicked in during the situation where you likely felt absolute helplessness—because you're already hanging under the rescuer and realize you can't even control it, and you're just going to be blown away. So now you're just a plaything of some outside forces.
Exactly. You get scared and your first thought is, I can't do anything anyway, now I just have to hope it turns out okay, close your eyes and wait for the crash. Or you say, the fear, this situation is not good at all, but you have to prepare for the impact now, take a compact position, make sure everything is protected as much as possible, and think about what you do in the final two or three meters to improve the whole thing. I then hit a flat roof, so with an extremely high sink rate and speed. I had almost eight meters of sink on the Vario and, upon landing after over 30 of forward travel, I flipped three times—so I rolled off, relatively compactly, and then stood up and was completely uninjured except for a few bruises.
You didn't fall off the flat roof, it was a huge flat roof. Yeah,
it was big enough, luckily, and it would have ended up in the tree anyway because of that. And then, of course, I was emotionally drained, meaning with that much adrenaline you're not really responsive, but that wears off.
And I'm convinced that if I had just hung there, waiting to see what would happen, I would have smashed into the roof so hard that I would have at least sustained serious injuries. And that's also one of the points that, as a normal person who never deals with extreme situations, you can learn and practice well in paragliding: never give up, always fight.
But you have to make yourself aware of that. I mean, you say "learning," but you have to find a way out of that state of paralyzed fear to first realize, "Okay, I'm paralyzed by fear right now, and what can I actually do about it?"
And that's exactly why I enjoy flying so much. I don't have to experience such extreme fear every time. Even the small fears give me an opportunity to practice how I deal with fear and how I get out of that state of paralysis.
The French call an orgasm le petit mort, the little death. Yes. In paragliding, we have the little fear. Is that perhaps also what ultimately gives us the fun of flying somewhere?
Yes, of course. Every time you master a situation of fear or a difficult situation, you've basically overcome your challenge, and then the whole thing is rewarded with euphoria and a sense of achievement. That's what it's all about.
Would you say those euphoric flying moments are more linked to anxious situations, or does euphoria also come from some kind of magical flying experience?
Of course. Let's just say, I have to admit, it's hard for me to get euphoric from a normal glider anymore. I've done far too many of those. But there are situations where you just do a glide and then a bird flies alongside you for about three minutes, and you watch it fly while it looks back at you, and then you land, and that's a moment you like to remember. Good feelings come up, and you could almost describe it as a euphoric moment. So it doesn't always have to be something extreme.
Are there any particularly special, magical flight experiences where you'd say they were so moving that the memory of them still kind of blows your mind today?
Yes, there are several. I used to go to volcanoes in Ecuador a lot, and for example, the flight from Cotopaxi or Tugurawa with a paraglider—you know, you're one of the first, or even the very first, to fly down from an altitude of 6,000 meters, and suddenly you're right in the middle of this immense wilderness landscape. That is just gigantic. Or something that is always a nice memory is when you fly over the sea in Ecuador; in the late afternoon, you can fly relatively far out over the water and at some point you look up and see the feet of the pelicans messing around on your leading edge. And that is just totally funny and immensely fun. There are moments like that.
a lot. Are they basically using the lift that your leading edge provides as an obstacle to fly even better?
Yeah, effortlessly. They just hang around up there, you only see their feet, and every now and then someone overtakes you and you think to yourself, what are they even doing up there?
That's pretty funny. If there were one last flight you were allowed to take in your life, for whatever reason—like a massive lockdown or something—what would it be? You really have to think hard about that.
think about it carefully. You have so many flights you'd like to do. But if it were only one left, it would probably be a targeted circumnavigation of the entire Ortler area in a tandem.
Why is that? What is so fascinating about this flight for you?
I also like to take shots in the air, meaning photos and videos, especially photos. And when we're out in the tandem, my wife does that. She takes pretty good photos, like really good. And it's always been a project of ours to circle the Ortler once. It's not just the Ortler, though, it's the Verteinspritz and various high mountains and glaciers. The area itself is difficult to circle or fly around because it's so full of glaciers and has few landing options. But it's just an immense landscape to see from the air, best from 4,500 to 5,000 meters high—that would be the absolute highlight. We wanted to do that last year, in 2020, but unfortunately it didn't work out, neither because of the weather nor because of all the lockdowns.
So, you've never tried it yet?
Well, I've flown the Ortler solo before. I was able to do a small loop. At the time, I managed to climb to 5,300 meters. And that's what triggered me to want to do it again, with a big round and the tandem.
Alright, Michael. Then I wish you the best of luck in making it happen this year, or at least in one of the coming years, to do that beautiful flight around the Ortler with Gudrun, your wife, together. I hope you get some great pictures out of it. I'm curious to see what they look like when they arrive. But anyway, thank you for this super interesting, in-depth conversation. And yes, I wish you much success.
Yes, thank you, and it was a pleasure.
That was Michael Nesler in conversation with Lucian Haas. If you want to learn more about some of the topics discussed here, I have several recommendations for you right away. Reading Michael's book "Nestflucht," attending one of his flight technique training sessions called iCamp, or subscribing to the online training version with the telling name "Überflieger." You can find the links to these in the show notes for this podcast episode on the Lu-Glidz blog. If you enjoyed this episode, please recommend Podz-Glidz. All previous podcast episodes are available on Lu-Glidz and Soundcloud, as well as on well-known audio platforms like Spotify, iTunes, Google Podcasts, etc. To make sure you don't miss a new episode, you can also subscribe to Podz-Glidz right now in your podcatcher. And if you aren't already, please consider using the link in the description to become a supporter.
That way you're helping me present many more interesting stories from the world of paragliding to you. Every episode then becomes your episode in a way. By the way, the donation amount is completely up to you. If you're unsure how much you want to give, I'd suggest, without any obligation, one euro per podcast episode and two euros per reading month on Lu-Glidz. Even when added up and calculated for the year, that's significantly less than what a subscription to a classic paragliding magazine costs. Stay healthy! Ciao!