When these people are standing down there after having flown those maneuvers, those routes, I don't know, maybe they could also ask themselves, hey, how happy are you right now? And then he says, oh, I'm totally happy. And then you might say, I'm also totally happy. And then it's complete bullshit to ask who flew longer or whatever. It would be cooler to say, am I happy now? Are you happy? Okay, that works. Come on, let's go grab a beer now.
Podz-Glidz, the Lu-Glidz podcast. Stories from the cosmos of paragliding. Today with Eki Maute and Lucian Haas at the microphone.
Imagine a safety instructor who prefers to fly without a helmet, protector, rescue device, and even barefoot. For DRV -Lehrmeinungs- and safety apostles, such a free spirit is naturally like a thorn in the side. However, Eki Maute, head of the Achensee flight school, is a recognized figure in the scene. Despite all the provocation, his word, knowledge, and experience carry weight. For Eki, it's primarily about flying making people happy. Safety is part of that, but so are those moments of complete letting go. He calls "Hang loose" his favorite flight figure or exercise, where it's all about just hanging under the glider and experiencing the feeling of cozy being carried in the here and now.
If you think that sounds a bit spiritual, you're not wrong. However, Eki also knows the other side. Looking at performance standards, comparing yourself to others, the desire to compete and impress with your skills. In this 59th episode of Podz-Glidz, Eki Maute talks about all of that. Among other things, how he found flying and became a safety instructor, the formative role flight instructors play for their students, what makes a good pilot, the enormous performance demands of today's pilots, the spiritual side of flying, and why it is still so important for him to find pure happiness in simple flying. Before you dive into Eki Maute's world of thought, let me give you one quick note.
For me, these conversations I have for Podz-Glidz are always moments of happiness as well. But as a freelance journalist, I can't live on happiness alone, let alone support my family. The time I put into this needs to be financed somehow. So, if you enjoy what I offer here, why not become a supporter of Podz-Glidz and the associated blog LOOGLIGHTS? Payments are easily possible via PayPal or bank transfer. You can find all the necessary details on the LOOGLIGHTS website, specifically on the Support page.
Eki, what are you looking for when you fly?
That's a good start already.
I've been looking for something for a long time in flying. I've been flying for three decades now, over three decades. And I think I've been flying for a few years now. I think I've pretty much found it in flying and
I'm not searching for anything anymore when I fly; I just take in the flying because it's there, because I'm allowed to, and because it feels right.
Searching. I used to search a lot in flying. Self-actualization, the vastness, the adventure, tests, competitions. Seeking validation, a lot of things. Now we're already pretty close. And lately, it's more like I fly and don't feel like I'm searching anymore, it's just like when you go into the water and then you're in the water. But you're not necessarily looking for something in the water. It just feels good.
Would you say that you found something, or did it find you?
You're asking questions.
If I think back... if I think back to my entire career regarding flying, I'd say it just grabbed me. It spoke to me. I reacted to it back then, when I was in university or even earlier.
I'd even put it this way: flying invited me, and I accepted the invitation. Yeah, exactly, that fits well for me. How did this invitation come about? What did you feel as an invitation?
For me, it was when I started very, very early, from my childhood. Like many people, I had this very, very strong desire to fly, to dream about where I could fly. Then I was in the Bundeswehr with the wrong people. But that wasn't what invited me to fly; interestingly, it wasn't kite flying that invited me either. I went on a trip about kite flying around 1987, but the actual invitation, if I feel into it now, was the first time on a practice slope at the Balsberg in Unterwüssen, a blow-up, the first paraglider from Dolly Zalek, Daniel Düsentrieb. I was allowed to glide down, and I think that's where this invitation began.
And that just fascinated and moved me. Yes. And
So you just ran down a practice slope once and then you were hooked?
The practice slope in Unterwüssen is very steep, and the paragliders back then had a glide ratio of three, maybe three and a half. And this gliding down, falling down—it wasn't falling, it wasn't gliding, it was just this slow drifting through the air, and that was so... yeah, I couldn't, I couldn't avoid that invitation, yeah, it was just so intense. I was studying in Rosenheim back then, I studied some more later, yeah, but ultimately my destiny was somewhat predetermined, yeah, I couldn't avoid that invitation anymore, but I fully committed to it, yeah, and I've been flying ever since, yeah.
We've done some SIV training over the last few days, and in one of your, let's say, speeches and such, you said, "Yeah, I've been flying my whole life." You also mentioned earlier that as a child, you already imagined yourself flying or something like that. Can you remember your first flight that you actually experienced as a flight?
I definitely can't, no. I could look it up and certainly make a great story out of it if I made the effort, but I can't remember that first flight right now. Nothing is coming up, I have to say. No, nothing's coming up. A lot of flights are coming up now, but that one specific flight you're trying to pull out of me right now.
My gut tells me it happened much earlier in my childhood, yeah, more in my head, in my imagination, back when paragliders didn't even exist yet. But I can't name a specific flight right now.
No, I can't. Then we jump back to the practice slope, the steep one, where you jumped off it. After you did that for the first time and said it caught you. You were there now,
you were still studying, but it was moving more and more towards flying. Did the rest not matter to you anymore, so you'd say it's all centered around flying, like you're saying it as a motto, that's my life's center now, the core?
Yeah, sort of. Of course, when a young guy gets hooked on something—and I'll compare it to being in love—you put on those rose-colored glasses, you only burn for that one girl or that one thing, and you leave everything else behind. It wasn't quite that extreme. I was studying back then and I wanted to finish my degree. That was my plan. What did you study?
Wood technology, engineering in the field of wood technology in Rosenheim. I'm a carpenter and I just wanted to go in that direction. And then paragliding came along, and for about half a year, maybe a year, I wasn't exactly sure, hey, where should I go now, what should I do now? This flying completely captivated me. Yeah, with being in love, I think that's a good comparison. You might put the other thing a bit on the back burner, but ultimately you still have to live, you want to keep going. Of course, there are also the voices. From the outside, hey, you can't just drop out of your studies just because of this flying. I mean, '87 or whenever that was, paragliding wasn't even a thing yet.
It wasn't like, hey, I still remember, my mother didn't even know what it was. Or where I borrowed money for my first paraglider from my uncle, my godfather. I first had to explain to him what I needed 3,000 Marks for.
And I didn't just drop out of my studies. It wasn't that I didn't give a damn; I tried to do both at the same time. But that's what I failed at. I kept getting worse at my studies, and in flying—so to speak—always better. I flew a lot, I was on the road a lot. And of course, that kept pulling me more and more to one side. And now my mother comes into play again. My mother always told me, you have to do what your heart leads you to do. And my heart clearly led me to flying. My head to my studies and my heart to flying. But in the end, I never regretted following my heart. Did you finish your studies? No.
On the day of my pre-diploma—well, I basically failed the pre-diploma. And I had to retake two subjects in a re-examination. And it was a beautiful day for flying. I still remember that very clearly. I was sitting in this Machine Elements class—that's the interesting subject. And I was sitting in the Machine Elements exam. And it all came down to this exam. It was such a beautiful day for flying. And the Heuberg wasn't far away. That's a mountain south of Rosenheim where I used to go a lot. And I read the assignment at nine in the morning at the university. And I didn't understand the assignment at all. It was like back when I was a kid in elementary school. I got a word problem. And of course, I couldn't even start on the solution for this word problem because I didn't understand the text.
And then it was crystal clear, okay, that was it. And I still remember how I wrote it down: Ah, I don't understand the task, but today is a beautiful day for flying. And I'm going flying now. And then I got out and rode my bike to the Heuberg. And it was just an awesome day.
That
means you didn't drop out of your studies, you basically flew out of them.
Yes, I ultimately failed. I failed my studies, you have to put it quite clearly like that. But it wasn't bad. Other doors opened up instead.
So, when you say that, did you also decide on your life path, on flying? Yes, yes. But then it probably took a while until you became a flight instructor or something where you could actually earn money from flying. Or did that happen very quickly?
Yes, that happened very quickly. It was really exciting. My flight instructor back then at Baresberg, Martin, Martin Ocker. That still exists today, the Süddeutsche Gleitschirmschule. And we have a very good relationship again. We also ran the flight school together for 15 years in Chiemgau. And Martin—I was still in the basic course on that practice slope I told you about earlier. I couldn't land at all yet. My landings were always such that I landed on my butt. So it took me relatively long until I could land. I wasn't exactly the most gifted, you really can't say that. Instead, I landed on my butt for three, four days straight. And then on the third, fourth, fifth day, Martin says to me, Eki, you would make a very good flight instructor. Then I looked at him and said, Martin, I can't even land.
And then he says, "Well, think about whether you don't want to become a flight instructor." And then, of course, it started swirling around in my head and in my body anyway. And because I was so caught up—so, caught up in how enthusiastic I was about this sport—I already thought, because I trusted Martin, "Hey, what does this guy want from me?" And that's when I realized that the desire to pass something on later was already there, even though I couldn't do it myself yet. I couldn't fly at all, I couldn't land. But I felt this desire inside me, "Wow, what would it be like if I were eventually something like Martin, such a good flight instructor who can teach people how to do it."
And I already noticed, ah, I think that could be a path for me. And then over the next few months and so on, it crystallized relatively quickly. My studies kept getting worse, flying kept getting "better." Ah, okay. And then I became an assistant very quickly. Within a few weeks, out of the blue, I was already on the practice slope showing people how to deploy the glider. And then it was rockezocke.
Back then, there wasn't anything like an organized system for who is a flight instructor; Martin just said, I'm going to make you a flight instructor, I'll call you an assistant for now, and then you'll just say, okay, now you're a flight instructor.
It wasn't quite that wild. It was heading in that direction, though. Yes, it was also the time when the DHV already existed. These testing procedures were already in place in principle. In one weekend, all the hang gliding instructors were basically appointed as paraglider instructors. That was that wild time. And I fell for it and was also in an assistant instructor course. It started like that back then, but not as time-consuming as it is today. They were short briefings, short courses. Toni Bender was there at the time and checked if you could fly a spiral and do a point landing. And then we were almost already flight instructors. A wild time back then.
Yes.
And then you had, as you said, this flight school with Martin for 13 or 15 years. Did you already do SIV training during that time, or did that only come later?
It started relatively early. I think we were among the first to give SIV training on Lake Garda. When I think back on that, I get dizzy, because back then, yeah, just a small example. I'm almost ashamed of it, but I know you now, Lucian. You were in my training too. I trust you, which is why I'm being so open. And I really like that we're sitting here together now. My first SIV training, the rescue boat was a friend of mine who was sitting on a surfboard in the middle of Lake Garda. Okay. And if I say it today, I'm ashamed of it because if something had happened, it would have been terrible. But that's how we started. Were there already life jackets?
Our first life jackets were these heavy fabric vests. Like those stiff life jackets you see in those old Titanic movies, where the collar goes so high. Where you basically can't move your head at all when you're hanging on the glider, because you're basically stuck in there. And you can't really do any aerial maneuvers because your movement is so restricted. It was pure madness. But that's how it was back then. I'm not proud of it now.
He would have paddled with his hands, right?
He already had an oar. He obviously already had an oar. But I don't want to imagine what would have happened if something had occurred. Nothing ever happened. Thank God, nothing.
Did you do those first training sessions on your own, just saying, "I'm just going to give it a try" and telling people what they should do? Was there already video technology and stuff back then to document it, to review it afterwards? Or how was that done?
Yes, I really have to think about it because it was so long ago. We did film it too. But we didn't do all the first trainings. Actually, not the first trainings. There were already radios back then. That already existed. But I'm noticing now, and it's a bit embarrassing for me to go into those details, I just don't know. I don't know everything anymore. I only know that the landing field itself was already a huge challenge. Anyone who knows Lake Garda, 30 years ago, we had to land on such a small gravel area where there were still sailing boats. The landing itself was already a feat of mastery.
So, there was this offshore, grass-covered island—did that not even exist back then? No, no, no, no. That's an airfield on Lake Garda today. Those were the beginnings of SIV training on Lake Garda. How did it come to the point where you said, "I'm making this my main focus"?
I was with Martin at the Süddeutsche Gleitschirmschule for 15 years. We trained together and got to experience that peak of the paragliding scene, where people were driven in tour buses to practice halls to do an introductory course. Was that how it was?
Full tour buses?
Buses full. Buses showed up, and suddenly there were 30 people in the introductory course. Five people had to share one glider. I mean, conditions you really couldn't imagine today.
Great, wild times. And then, of course, we also evolved in our instruction. And there were fewer people. We noticed ourselves, we placed value on good training, on safe training. We worked together very well for years, worked well together. I had a lot of fun teaching the people. From the first setup to high flights or first practice slope flights, then high flights. And then I realized that I'd like to teach the people even more. So not just starting, flying, landing, flying turns. But then came this topic of spirals. You could also spiral with paragliders.
Then at some point there were shared risers, where the B-riser was hung separately. For whatever reason. Not because you could do B-stars. That wasn't really the reason, it was just a matter of construction. And we started pulling on the risers and realized, wow, if you pull on both B-risers now, something like a—today we call it a descent aid—is created. And then I felt like teaching that to people. But it became relatively clear to me pretty quickly that this is something demanding. That it can also go wrong.
Then there were shared harnesses, where the B-harness was hung separately. For whatever reason. Not because you could do B-stars. That wasn't really the reason, it was just a matter of construction. And we started pulling on the harnesses and realized, wow, if you pull on both B-harnesses now, something like a—today we call it a descent aid—is created. And then I felt like teaching that to people. But it became relatively clear to me pretty quickly that this is something demanding. That it can also go wrong.
in paragliding, when you do it with thermals, that was added. That wasn't possible for years. At some point, it became possible to fly thermals. And then it just clicked. And over time, I understood, ah, something is needed where people can train within a certain framework. And at the same time, it also happened in Switzerland, at Walensee. Later at Achensee, the Karlslesack, yeah. Those were the people who had already done the first SIV training. And I felt like I was being left behind. And so the idea came, about 20 years ago, that I want to move more into the area of SIV training. And for that, I need a lake.
Because you just can't do it over forests or over land. And that was the, well, I'd say the basic idea plus the invitation from Christa Vogel. I'm beating around the bush, but Christa Vogel told me back then, hey, do you want to open a flight school at Achensee? And then the time had come for me to sit down with Martin Reh, to separate, for me to leave Unterwüsten and go to Achensee. And that's where the new chapter, the big chapter of SIV training for me, basically began.
And you've been doing that for 20 years now? In total, so not 20 years at Achensee, but SIV training for 20 years, if I understand that correctly?
I've been here at Achensee for 20 years now. And I've been doing SIV training, I'd say, for 25.
But since I've been here at Achensee, I don't actually do anything other than SIV training. I don't do any more instruction, unfortunately. Thank God.
What is the "unfortunately"? The "unfortunately" is that it's so beautiful to accompany a person who would like to fly but hasn't done it in practice yet during those first few days, when in the wing growth they start off from the mountain and are allowed to fly. And if you do those first few days with feeling and empathy, then I believe you can plant a seed where this person might practice flying in a different way than I often observe today, where people practice flying in a very performance-oriented way, where I sometimes get the impression, oh, it's a shame they weren't taught differently in those first few days.
I don't know if you understand me.
Yeah, a different seed is planted. Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. In biology, there are things where, depending on which micronutrient you give them, cells develop completely differently. And who knows, is that exactly what's happening here—which micronutrient or which micro-idea of flying are you putting into people's heads? Then they might, not all of them, but many will grow in the direction that you perhaps show them a little bit, what's possible. Absolutely. What is your style of flying that you'd like to show people?
A picture comes to mind right now as you just asked or said that—yes, I once accompanied a relatively old man, yeah, today, he was around 70. I was allowed to accompany him, to teach him how to fly. It took him a year on the practice slope until he could start reasonably well, fly turns, and land—for over a year. He kept coming back, over and over and over again. And then at some point, he did his first high flight in Kössen. And back then, the first high flights, I'd say, were between five and eight minutes of maximum flight time. And he did his first high flight.
I was at the landing field below. I think Martin was up at the launch site. And this older man landed in front of me. I walked up to him and said, "Hey, how was it?" And he looks at me and goes down on his knees because his legs couldn't hold him anymore, and he had tears in his eyes, and he looks at me and says, "It was so beautiful, thank you. For five minutes of glide time."
Mhm. And
When I see people today—I'm allowed to be at sites where people do their first flights and land—and I go over and say, "Hey, how was it?" and almost every time it's, "Way too short."
Way too short. And they might have flown for maybe ten minutes, 15 minutes, I don't know, 20 minutes. And I do think a lot of that lies in how a teacher essentially accompanies people on this path into flying and this first, yeah, this first contact, this first encounter, so to speak. I believe so, yeah.
Does that also have something to do with technical development, maybe, that back then, if you say you had a paraglider that would fall down in some way at a 1 to 3 ratio somewhere in the west, southwest? Or now, where the training gliders already wonder at a 1 to 8 ratio somewhere? And then you can glide out wonderfully and you immediately have the feeling, yeah, okay, this must go much better now. It's not clear that you're standing on the ground immediately, but you go out with expectations already on the first flight, at least for soaring. It's going to take longer, like that.
Definitely, definitely. People learning to fly today have completely different ideas. That's clear.
People who want to learn to fly today often associate flying with cross-country flying, thermals, and aerobatics. People buying their first equipment today don't just get a paraglider, a reserve parachute, a harness, and a helmet; they usually also get a vario, this instrument, and whatever else you need to fly. And I don't want to fall into that rhythm of "everything was better in the old days" and blah, yeah, all that shit, I can't listen to it anymore. Flying is: you go up the mountain, spread your wings, and go into the air. And of course, you're allowed to have an instrument with you, and you're allowed to do thermals, cross-country, aerobatics, and have all your fun.
I still do that too and have my fun with it. But if you've been given the opportunity at the beginning to just fly,
to take off, let everything go, just fly, surrender yourself to flying, even during a cross-country flight, acrobatic flight, when the air is calm, when taking off—then a sense of gratitude and a feeling well up inside you that you're simply allowed to fly, which makes you so happy that afterwards, with the technique you're mentioning, you might even fly a few more meters or kilometers or perform an even better flight figure. But that feeling from within, that peace, that gratitude that comes from just flying—we don't get that if we immediately push people toward performance, cross-country flight, thermals, paragliding, acrobatics; if you instill that in them right away, they don't have the opportunity to listen to themselves to explore what's actually in there.
Now it's getting a bit spiritual, but... that's part of who you are. Definitely, yes.
In your SIV training, you also always talk about this—you call it a flight figure, Hang Loose—so, like, just chilling out, whatever, the attitude you want to take in the harness. Is that something you do on every flight?
Almost always, yeah. When the air is calm and I can let go of the control line, then it's definitely a moment I enjoy incredibly. And you asked me before, what am I looking for when I fly? I think by now, I'm looking for exactly that again and again, even in my current flights. Now I notice how I'm contradicting myself a bit from before. I do this in almost every flight, so if the air allows it and I can just let everything go for a moment, then I let everything go and then I lean back and look up at the glider and sometimes I even talk to it, like, hey, do you feel like doing a helicopter? Or whatever. Some really cool conversations have actually started. And that's where, even after all these many, many flights I've done in my life,
and when I've flown my fill, that's something that almost scares me now when I say it—I've been allowed to fly my fill in my life. But those are the moments when I'm hanging in the air, thinking, damn, this is beautiful, what a gift, how privileged I am. And then it goes through my entire body, every pore opens up, and I just see everything. And then I feel immortal, like I used to. I know I'm not anymore, unfortunately. But then it's this, I don't know, like what it's like when you take drugs. I've never taken drugs. But it's a state that I keep looking for, that I like to look for, and that I like to experience.
It's this state of suspension, this surrender to flying, hanging on the glider in that moment. It's just something wonderful. And from that state, I then fly my figure or whatever. It's already an important instrument in my life, in my flying. I want
Let's jump back a bit to where we were earlier with the training, where you said what it is that excites you so much about the training or what's so beautiful about it. At the same time, you also said, yeah, yin and yang, both sides. You also said, thank God you don't do it anymore. What is the "thank God" you don't do anymore?
Now we have to look a bit at the bureaucracy or the politics. When I observe flight schools today that want to provide good training—where there are two instructors in the field, where there's good radio equipment, where people are actually taken the time to teach people how to fly in a safe and enjoyable way—those flight schools are struggling so much today because they can hardly compete economically with other flight schools that work differently and cut corners. And that's one reason. The other reason is that if you want to train, you need good terrain. You need a good practice slope.
You need a farmer who is friendly toward you, where you can do ground handling and exercises accordingly, where you have the time. That's another point. Then there's another point. The person who wants to learn to fly today is usually the type who says on the phone, "Look, I have a problem. My problem is, I have no time." So, the willingness of people to learn to fly today is often such that they're almost putting on a bit of pressure, and as a flight school, you're forced to offer: "First of all, with us it always works, the weather is always great, and you'll get your license in the shortest amount of time." And that's where I say, thank God I don't have to find some way to be able to look at myself in the mirror at night.
Yes.
And that's what it is for you, this SIV training thing protects you from at least that part. But probably SIV training also has two sides of a coin for you. What are the two sides of SIV training? Absolutely.
With SIV training, it's like we can just do whatever we want. We set the specifications. So when I say "we," I mean the Flugschule Aachensee. And thank God, I'm not alone there. And I am very, very happy that the people I get to work with share the same philosophy. The philosophy that the human being is absolutely at the center. That the focus is on the person leaving SIV training and saying or being allowed to say, "Hey, that was a good time. I didn't just learn a lot, but I also felt like the people who worked with me were looking out for me." And I believe that since I'm in this fortunate position,
Yes, being the oldest in this pack, being the alpha wolf, of course, next to Cordula—clearly, next to a strong man there is always an even stronger woman. But we simply have people with our Lukas, with Stefan, with the whole team, who just carry my train of thought and my wishes. And I can set the requirements. I can set the requirements for how the SIV training should run, how long they should go, which maneuvers are flown, what material we use, what price we charge for the training. We can simply shape our world however we think is good for all of us and for the product itself.
And by "good," I also mean sustainable. That's such a cliché. But what's at the very top is that the person should leave and say, wow, I can take something away from this. It's not always the case that people leave and say, that was great, that was awesome, and oh, he's so likable. Sometimes it's also the case that people leave us, especially when they work with me, saying, hey, what's the point? What do you want from me right now? That was rather unpleasant. But I've experienced that too in my caregiving. People like Mike Küng. Mike, if you're listening, don't be mad.
Or Andre Bucher. These are people who are teachers to me. They shaped me. And they didn't always do me favors. They often hurt me too. But I was able to learn so much from them. I learned so much from Mike, from Andre Bucher. And that is exactly what I want to pass on. And I mean that, thank God. And luckily, I can shape all of this. And that's the beauty of it. That's what still hooks me and makes me feel alive. And what's the flip side?
Of course, if you want to look at it that way, it's always a bit of a fight against windmills.
For example, maybe not everyone is that enthusiastic about the sentence, "let go of the control gaze" or "fly without a rescue glider." But in the end, that's not really the downside, but rather the
For example, maybe not everyone is so enthusiastic about the sentence "skip the safety check" or "go fly without a parachute." But ultimately, that's not the downside, it's more the... Benefit of the provocative style, which suits me better, to shake people awake. I'll then be sent into a confrontation, of course, or I'll put myself into a confrontation with the person opposite me, where I then have to be mindful, have to be there, have to be awake, have to be present, which takes effort and where I'm often very tired. But it's not really the downside. Not really.
Yes. The downside also has its own downside. Yes, exactly. Where you can also say, okay. I'm allowed to meet people. Yes, oh yeah.
If you look not just at the technical development over the years, but also at the pilots who come to your SIV training, whom you approach very humanely through your own personality—have you noticed a change over the last few years?
Definitely. The first SIV training participants were more like lone wolves.
But it was about the product itself back then. SIV training was more for "real men," for pilots who do an SIV training once in their lives. And once they had completed it, they were certified for flying and then nothing could happen to them. It was more like a test of courage you get behind you, like a ritual a man completes to become a man. And thank God, that has completely changed. Nowadays, it's just the case that for most pilots who come to us, they know they are signing up for further training.
And they usually look forward to it, of course they're a bit scared, like when you go to the dentist or something, but ultimately they know they're doing something good for themselves.
and they like going there too. And the market or the demand has completely changed. Or just the fact that for very many people who come to us, it's crystal clear: they don't just come once, but they do it regularly. We have quite a few customers who come to us once, twice, or three times a year and then train certain flight figures.
You just said that the first SIV trainers were all "real men." Can you still remember the first woman who came to your SIV training? No.
I'd have to search my brain and I'd probably find one somewhere. There were women there back then too, but just the fact that the proportion of women in the beginning—the women who actually stuck with flying—I have to say, there were many women who just wanted to have a try and so on, but those who really stuck with flying, that has changed. Thank God, far more women fly today than 30 years ago.
You see the trained pilots—you didn't train them yourself, they come to you at the slope, the female pilots too, of course.
How do you recognize a good pilot or a good pilotess? Where do you say, very likely, sometimes you only need a few seconds to see it, but is there something like a specific point where, if I just see that, I know how they fly?
At the start. So, when you see a pilot, how they behave at the launch site—maybe I'll start there, how they walk to the launch site, how they get their gear ready, and it doesn't matter if they launch backwards or forwards, that really doesn't play a role right now, how they behave with the glider, how you simply observe how they watch the weather, where their eyes go, how they move, and then of course in the launch process,
The inflation phase, the control phase,
Acceleration phase, takeoff phase, the first 10, 20, 30 seconds in the air—by then, I imagine knowing almost everything about the pilot. Yes, exactly. During SIV training, I'm not at the launch site, of course, but I often look up with binoculars and watch the launch too. Then he flies out, and then comes the next part where I can read a lot. In SIV training, people can object to us, then they sign up. Hello Eki, this is Hermann on his Advance Epsilon. I'd like to fly my spiral during the check flight now. And just from the tone, from the voice, you can already hear a lot. And then, of course, through the flight maneuver—it doesn't have to be the spiral, it could also be a full circle, preferably an 8, and it doesn't have to be a fast 8 either.
By that point, I know pretty accurately where the pilot stands and what he needs, what works for him. And if I then update that with the conversation we have—where he wants to go, whether he has an idea of his flying—then I can accompany him quite precisely so that I think he'll walk away afterwards and say, "Hey, that was great."
What does a good pilot mean to you? Other than, of course, that he should be able to take off well. In the past, I also always...
taught that a good pilot is someone who has respect, humor, and patience. That was like a mantra. It's coming from deep inside me now. I have to say it again. Respect, humor, and patience. And that definitely makes sense. I came up with that at some point. A good pilot doesn't have to fly 180 kilometers or anything. For me, a good pilot is definitely a pilot who knows themselves well, who makes sensible decisions for themselves at the launch site and in the air.
How do you become a good pilot?
It's wonderful, of course, when a child has parents who live their lives in such a way that later, when the child starts thinking, understanding, and questioning things, they have the opportunity to forge their own paths. And for aviation, it's definitely like that: when a person has a teacher who accompanies them very responsibly, sensitively, and empathetically—someone who can do a lot themselves, who knows a lot themselves, who can fly all the maneuvers—that would be the ideal case when it comes to flying. And for this person who is developing and goes beyond just taking off, flying, and landing, who wants to know: what about the descent aids, what about the deformations, what about the stalls?
how it is simply with these specific topics that exist in life. I like to compare it to life in terms of things like drugs, sexuality, religion. It's really great when you have mentors, teachers, parents who say, hey, watch out, when spiraling it's like this and that, and there's body tension, pushing back, breathing, internal brake, external output, what's the eagle, what? But ultimately, it always gives that person the opportunity to develop themselves and develop their own style, to find their own style for themselves, so that later on, they can fly the spiral safely for themselves. So the question again, how does it happen? Certainly through many loving mentors,
who actually know what they're doing and don't just know what they're doing, but can actually do it too. A master teaching something they aren't good at themselves just doesn't work in aviation. That's a big difference from playing football. I don't play football, I have no idea how to play football, but I think in football it's not that important that the coach can play really well, but
In aviation, it's different. In aviation, if I see someone leading an SIV training, it's impossible for an SIV training instructor to tell someone how to fly a helicopter without flying a helicopter themselves. That's not possible.
Have people ever come to you who wanted to fly figures that you couldn't do? Yes, yes, plenty of them, of course.
And I'm so glad that I have people around me like Simon, Simon Winkler, and Stefan.
If someone comes to me today and says, I have a liegestütz, can you set that up for me? Then I'll say, I can't do that at all, I don't have a liegestütz. I've never flown into a liegestütz in my life. Please go to Stefan. If someone says, I'd like to learn infinity tumbling, then I'm the wrong teacher, definitely. Then we have Simon, and with Simon, you're in the best hands. And I'm so glad for that. Definitely, there are things I just can't do.
If people come to you like that, do you then get the urge to tell them that you'd actually like to be able to do it?
Oh, if you had asked me that question eight or ten years ago, you would have been heading straight into a nest of westerners.
Oh, and then I really would have had to think about how to get out of that. When the Infinity Tumbling started—that's the maneuver where I learned so much about myself too. It preoccupied me a lot. For a long, long time, I always had this goal for myself to fly every maneuver that exists. And when the Infinity Tumbling started, I realized, oh, it's a challenge. Yeah, now I'd have to train. I'm afraid of it. I'd have to train. It pulled me toward that maneuver. Thermik had already flown and trained the maneuvers here at Lake Achensee back then. I could watch him. We worked together. We're quite good friends. I could always ask him again and again. And it was that time when I had to make a decision for this maneuver.
And I realized I was totally torn. And that was a process of many, many weeks where I wanted to do the maneuver and then didn't. Wanted to and didn't. Wanted to and didn't. I was afraid of it. It pulled at me. Sleepless nights where I fell into the glider.
And at some point—I can't really tell you what the actual trigger was—after those few weeks, I asked myself, why do I actually want to fly? And I didn't really come up with an answer regarding that; instead, my answer eventually came from the inside, or from below, or from behind. Express it however you want. I don't want to do it at all. I don't want to do it at all. My head wanted to fly the figure, but something inside of me didn't want to fly it. And then I was totally confused. I was completely thrown. Because I just didn't know what to do anymore. And it took me another few weeks until I came to terms with what I said,
Yeah, cool, if I don't want to do it at all, then I don't have to do it. And from then on, I had my peace. And I've kept that peace over the last few years. When I'm allowed to accompany the young people today towards their first flight figures that are being prepared for the Infinity or something like that, I'm totally happy about it. And I can just let them go and let them be. Then they go to the next instructor, to Simon, and they're the best back there. And then I see them flying Infinities a few hours or days later and I'm totally happy and I have my peace. There's nothing envious or anything like that about it, it's just pure joy. It's also interesting, yeah, to see it in hindsight. Were there times when you also felt envious? Yes.
Yeah. Apparently, with the Russians, there's this "white envy" and "black envy." In our culture, envy is a word where, he says it himself quite often, "I'm jealous." That's more like it. Envy is something not so nice. But... it can also be a very potent drive. Absolutely, absolutely, absolutely. And by now I know myself quite well and I see when I'm more in this black envy, in this non-congratulatory, jealous envy that doesn't do me any good, makes thermals hard and makes me sick. Unfortunately, I still have that sometimes, yeah, in other areas. When it comes to flying, it's always like I'm more in the white envy. I watch someone and think to myself, damn, that's cool, look at that, yeah, look at how he flies that.
Wonderful. I know both sides. Good.
You're a Buddhist too. No. No? No. But do you have close ties to it or have you spent a lot of time dealing with it?
I was very lucky to have people in my life who showed me a lot. I always had a lot of freedom. If I didn't want to go to kindergarten and told my mother, "Look, I just don't want to go to kindergarten," she would say, "But you have to go to kindergarten." Then I'd say, "But I don't want to go to kindergarten." And that was the kind of fight that often happens between children and mothers or fathers—unfortunately, I didn't have a father—that would take place. And my mother would then, or could sometimes say to me, "You're going to kindergarten now," and she would practically push me into kindergarten. But there were also days when she would say, "Okay, what do you want to do?" And I would say I'd much rather go into the forest. Then she'd say, "Then you go into the forest now, but you have to come back."
And I was very lucky to have people around me who showed me a lot, also regarding religion, church, and so on. They left me that space where I could pick out the raisins just the way I wanted to for myself. And I've pieced together my own faith, just like I've pieced together my own flying or how I get back to ground handling. For me, with ground handling, there is no single truth. There are different techniques, just like in a religion. There are different techniques. You can meditate, you can pray, you can do who knows what. And for me, it's interesting to find out what fits me, what does me good. And I've found just as much with the Buddhists as with anyone else, where I think, "That's useful, I'll take that for myself."
applied to paragliding, I've learned so much from Mike Küng and Andre Bucher. But I wouldn't say I use their technique; rather, I just took their technique and adapted it for myself, added some things, took some away, so that it fits me and I've fashioned my own style out of it. And that's the path I'm taking now. Well, I'm not a Buddhist, but I like to sit down and stare into the air for a bit. Some people call that meditating. But it works just as well when I'm walking through the forest, doing a twelve-hour hike in the morning. It's tough. It's nothing more than a walking meditation or simply being outside and enjoying being outside.
Does flying have anything spiritual about it for you? Absolutely.
Definitely. It's also the case sometimes that people come to me and say, "Look, I'm here with you now and I wanted to do a training session with you because all my colleagues around me are saying, 'Don't go to Lake Aachen, don't go to that guy with the long hair, you'll only learn how to breathe.' That's some spiritual nonsense, and that's why I'm here now. I want to know what that actually is." And there's so much fuss made about this spiritual stuff. Everything is spiritual. If you look at the word root, I think someone told me once, it comes from Spiritus, the breath, the respiration. Hello! If we stop breathing, we're no longer alive. If you wake up in the morning and you're not breathing anymore, then that's just it. And from that perspective, in the moment that we breathe,
are spiritual beings. That is simply my deepest conviction. We are all spiritual beings. We are living beings. Just replace that "spiritual" with "living beings" for a second. We are all living beings. We are all humans. We are all humans who also love to fly. And that is what connects us. Spirituality is just a word.
From flying. If you say it's also something spiritual for you.
I'm just getting out now. I wanted to go somewhere. But I'm not getting to where I wanted to go at all. Then
I've got you out now. That's nice. You have me
pulled out.
Then I'll just ask it differently.
If flying is that important to you
and you say it's also something spiritual that fills you with life, gives you breath,
have you ever imagined what it would be like to live and no longer be able to fly?
Phew. Now you've really caught me off guard... Wow.
If this interview, or whatever you want to call it, had happened a year ago, I would have been pretty cool, or stayed pretty cool, right now. You caught me off guard too.
Yes, a life without flying, I can imagine that, but the thought of it hurts me. Definitely, in any case. And it's absolutely not about cross-country flying, about thermals. I've already flown high and far enough. But what I would really miss are those calm glides, those descents, in the evening, in the morning, at night. Flying at night is a whole different dimension, and you don't do any aerobatics at night. I've never flown a helicopter at night in my life. Why would I? No one can see me.
And why I'm being so serious now, or maybe just for a moment a bit... For about half a year now,
For about half a year now, I've been dealing a lot with my body. A few things have cropped up in my body. It's like, when you get old—now I'm 58, and you're always immortal until eventually—then topics come up that you might still... as a 20, 30, or 40-year-old, maybe... For me, those were always topics like, I don't know, cancer and tumors and arthritis and whatever else old people always have, where they eventually die from it or can't move anymore. Those were topics that were very, very far away and just weren't tangible for me in my immortality. But for half a year now, that's different. For half a year now, I'm also allowed to deal with these topics, and I'm learning a lot, a lot.
And for example, to get straight to the point, my right arm is restricted at the moment. I shouldn't raise my right arm higher than where the hand is by the ears. But now, you have to launch a paraglider. This has only been like this for two days. My God, we could have done the interview before. Shit, but now it is what it is. I shouldn't raise my right arm higher than head height because otherwise, all the ligaments and tissues in the upper joint will tear, and then I won't be able to lift it at all. And right now, I'm in the process of doing what I've been doing for a few months anyway. I'm trying to fly certain maneuvers with only one hand or with a restricted body, because that has always fascinated me. Decades ago, I was already accompanying Petra, who was eventually in a wheelchair, where we thought about how someone sitting in a wheelchair could...
...to support in terms of paragliding. Or other handicaps or something, people who don't have hands or whatever. There are some really exciting projects out there. And right now, I'm in the process of refining that. For example, I created the one-armed spiral a few years ago. This maneuver is still relatively unknown. But the spiral is a maneuver in SIV training that people talk about a lot. And I've constantly had people—and now I'm affected myself, at the moment, though hopefully it'll get better—who can only work with their hands and arms to a limited extent. And this one-armed spiral works absolutely great with just one arm. I've already tried, tested, and done a lot of it. You can do a spiral up to 12, 13 meters per second; you shouldn't go faster than that, you shouldn't put the glider on your face.
But in this area, if you stay free in this zone and fly this descent aid cleanly, you can fly a spiral without the outside brake. And that's something I'm noticing right now—you can't quite give it your all at the moment—but the question of whether there's a life without flying, I don't need to imagine that at all right now. I'm still allowed to fly, just a bit restricted at the moment. And I could also see the abundance again within this restriction and open a new chapter. So, they're taking a bit away from me right now, but I could also get something else in return. And I'm going to look into that more over the next few weeks—how to take off and so on. So I can already see, ah, there's potential there again.
But back to your question, a life without flying, like completely, I don't even need to imagine that because it's not a fact yet.
Right. Earlier you mentioned that you were "full" of flying. That would actually be a state where you say, I don't need flying anymore. I'm full now, at least in this moment. And that sounded like it was also a phase where you'd say, overall, I was actually pretty fed up with flying.
How did that feel, and how did you get hungry again?
This "I'm tired of flying" refers very strongly to the fact that I want higher, further, more extreme. This urge, this hunger for a lot of flight time, long flights, flying far, in the adventure...
don't confirm either.
Without judging that. I definitely don't want to say that it's bad and that you could develop spiritually further if you no longer have it. On the contrary. On the contrary. What I mean for myself, for my person, for me as a pilot who has flown enough, I don't have any hunger anymore, for example, to travel to other countries to fly there. I couldn't fly enough in other countries before. I absolutely wanted to fly all over the world and was allowed to fly in many places, was allowed to be the first in many places, had this hunger to be the first, and I don't have that anymore. I don't have that anymore. The desire, you used the word at the very beginning, I have never had that in this consensus
this question also belongs. When was the invitation? Were you invited to fly? I want to go back to that, it's coming up very strongly for me right now.
I'm at the launch site and I look down into the valley, and then something speaks an invitation, and then I realize, oh yeah, I have an appetite, I'm hungry—call it hunger, appetite doesn't matter—but someone is speaking an invitation, where I'd like, yes, I'd like, I'd like to eat something now. Oh great, what a wonderful dish, oh my god, look at this plate, it's there for me now and I'm allowed to eat it. And then I definitely go for it. I could say no, I could do without it now, but this invitation, this gift, this meal—I don't want to refuse it at all. Then
you also just said something interesting to me. You said you also fly at night. That would be a completely different kind of flying.
What do you experience?
Are you there? I like flying at night, I like flying without a helmet, I almost always fly without a helmet, I fly very often without a glider, I prefer flying barefoot, preferably with as little as possible on. I know that's forbidden or not well-received, and of course, one or another person will get totally provoked again now. But I'm not saying that it's right, and I'm definitely not saying that anyone else should do it. I'm only talking about myself, I'm telling you this now, and whoever wants to listen should listen, do whatever you want with it.
Flying without all the extra gear, with as little as possible. That's when I'm closer to the flying.
At night, I'm even closer. For whatever reason, I can't explain it. I don't fly much at night, either. It's not like I'm out there every night, for God's sake. But those few flights I was allowed to do at night, they moved me deeply and gave me so much, and those minutes where you're in the air at night, that's such a unique experience,
that I don't want to miss out on. Where I was even closer to flying than during the day. I think there's really only one step further, flying with really nothing, and by that I don't mean wingsuits or anything like that. I don't do that. That's not what I mean. But then I'm even closer to my childhood dreams of flying without anything.
And then you said I fly at night, but no maneuvers, because no one can see me then.
Do you only fly maneuvers to be seen?
Sometimes it's like I ask myself afterwards, Eki, who did you just fly that maneuver for?
And if I'm being completely honest, I sometimes have to say, not for yourself. And that's something I don't really like about myself yet. I'm not going to go around whipping myself and calling myself a sinner. That's bullshit. There is no sin.
But it contradicts my own philosophy, because I keep telling myself, Eki, just fly what you want to fly for yourself. And go flying when you want to go flying. There are days when everyone else is flying. Cordula, for example, she flies sensationally well. And there are days when we're out at the launch site and Cordula says she's flying now. And for whatever reason, I don't fly. Because if I listen to myself, I hear a wish that says, Eki, don't fly now. And then I do that because I'm doing it for myself. And then to find out afterwards that I did something, flew a maneuver for someone else, just because he wanted to see how great I can fly. Fuck. Then I sometimes think to myself, that wasn't so great.
When you experience many pilots in the SIV training who then want to do more, also towards acro, and they have, well, many of them certainly, of course, have fun and all, but how much of that is also flying to be seen, even with the many students you have there? You mean for the students themselves? Yes, so how much of the motivation they bring is also saying, I want to be able to do that too, but specifically to be able to fly the show.
I'm not really in a position to say it like that right now. I'd like to answer differently. Our very exciting task as SIV training leaders is exactly to enter this space. To enter this space where the person who comes to us figures it out for themselves and keeps asking these questions over and over. Why do I want to go toward this flight maneuver or toward thermals? Why do I want to develop further into an aerobatic pilot? And to be allowed to accompany these people so that they get closer to the truth for themselves, to say, for example, yes, I'm doing this now as part of finding confirmation—again, without judgment—to find confirmation.
...from others for myself. Or I get there because it makes me totally happy. I'd like to go to the helicopter, for example, because it really interests me technically, because I'm curious. And what kind of motivation is it to go into a flight maneuver out of curiosity? That's dynamite in this preparation for the success of the project, where you say, I'm curious about the helicopter, I'm curious if I can do it. And then he's supposed to find out at some point why he's flying that maneuver, and to accompany that person there so that he doesn't just get to know the maneuver, but also gets to know himself. That's the kind of space I mean, where students and teachers or coach and participant enter this space to learn that within this space.
And that is what keeps motivating me over and over again.
And I always notice when you see people saying, okay, even with the figures, there's something like a performance comparison. And not in terms of how beautifully they flew, but more like, I have a 14-meter spiral, you have 16, or you have 18. And yeah, I already flew the 20-meter spiral five years ago. Back then, the gliders could still do that, but today they all brake at 18 or something like that.
How do you deal with it when you notice that people don't fly based on feeling, but on numbers?
They are a mirror for me. I can learn from every person, from every participant. They are a mirror where I can always see myself again, where I can observe myself. And of course, I know that too. Yeah, like, how long did you fly? And I flew longer and I was higher than you. And my helicopter was cooler than yours. And I can fly left and right. You can only fly left and the vulture fits, what? And ultimately, they look at it. What's decisive is when these people are standing down there and these aerobatics have been flown, these routes, I don't know. Maybe they could also ask themselves, hey, how happy are you now? And then he says, I'm totally happy. And then you might say, I'm also totally happy. And then it's complete bullshit to ask now who flew longer or what. Then it would be cooler to say, am I happy now?
Are you happy? Okay, that works. Come on, let's go grab a beer now. Would we need an online happiness concert? Yeah, or some kind of instrument. You know, an instrument where you can read, hey, how happy am I at the moment. And most pilots look way too much at some instrument shit and see where they are. If they had an instrument somewhere where they could see, ah, okay, now I'm still this and that fit. And now I still have this and that reserve. And I'm there, I'm wide awake. And another instrument where it says, ah, now I'm already happy. Yeah, they could stop there. They could go to land. They don't necessarily have to complete the full 120 kilometers. Because when they're there, because, what do you want more than to be happy? That's actually a nice conclusion. Yeah,
I agree. What more do you want than to be happy? Yeah. Let's just wrap it up there. Ecki, thanks so much for the interview. Yeah, thank you.
That was Ecki Maute in conversation with Lucian Haas.
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