I really felt like the whole thing was more like a gladiatorial fight and that the entertainment and the show were actually the main focus. And with that thought, you can naturally wonder, well, you could almost be a guinea pig—you get very good athletes who know what they're doing and have them jump off that skyscraper.
Podz-Glidz, the Lu-Glidz podcast,
Stories from the cosmos of paragliding.
Today with Markus Anders and Lucian Haas on the mic.
Anyone who has followed Markus Anders' flying career over the past few years can certainly be amazed. Markus rose to the world elite of Hike-and-Fly in a relatively short time. In 2017, having only had his A-license for about two years and then his B-license, he won the overall ranking of the Border-Race competition for the first time. He repeated this success a year later, and also came in third at the Salewa Ironfly. That earned him a spot in the Red Bull X-Alps in 2019. At the 2021 X-Alps, he unfortunately retired injured after a failed landing, despite being on track for a top 10 finish. Last November, he was part of the exclusive group of top pilots invited to the first Hike-and-Fly competition in the United Arab Emirates.
This competition in Dubai and the desert had its own unique flair, which was viewed critically by some in the paragliding scene. For example, the pilots were allowed to take off from the roof of a 77-story skyscraper for the first task. Paragliding had never taken to the skies there before.
In this 73rd episode of Podz-Glidz, Markus tells us how he experienced this world premiere, what thoughts went through his head, and why he took the risk despite feeling like a bit of a guinea pig.
But there's still a lot more to cover. Markus talks about, among other things, defining experiences during a hike-and-fly trip in New Zealand and how much the X-Alps and similar competitions shape his life today. Towards the end, it shifts to a completely different topic. Since 2020, Markus has been leading the E-Walk project at Skywalk. This is a harness with an integrated electric motor as an ascent aid for thermal flying. Recently, the German Federal Aviation Office denied approval for E-ascent as a new starting method for regular paraglider pilots. Whether and how things will proceed with the E-Walk, of course, I also asked Markus.
If you enjoy this podcast, you can support my work. You can find out how to become a supporter easily and without any obligation on the Lu-Glidz website, specifically on the "Fördern" page.
Markus, a quick question at the start. The Alps, the Himalayas, New Zealand, or the desert? Where would you most like to go flying again?
Well, choosing is no easy task because flying is so diverse. That's actually what makes it so exciting—you can go to the desert, the Himalayas, the lowlands, the mountains. But honestly, the most beautiful experience I've had so far was in New Zealand. Why? It was just, well, it was a very wild, remote, beautiful area. In some places on the South Island, you really only saw untouched nature. No roads, no paths, no power lines, no phone cables, nothing else. And it was wild, but not intimidating to fly in.
So in the Himalayas, you have these very high, very high, high mountains, glaciers, glacier winds and so on. And you fly a bit more, let's say, tense there. In New Zealand, if I remember correctly, it was really beautiful flying in some parts. But we were also a bit lucky with the weather there. I think, because New Zealand is very, very changeable and prone to wind. If you don't catch good flying weather there, it's of course something else. But in terms of the impressions, I just absolutely loved it.
If I remember correctly, you were in New Zealand for, I think, three weeks and did a hike-and-fly tour there. When was that?
Exactly, I was in New Zealand for a backpacking trip with three buddies at the turn of the year in 2017 to 2018. In total, it was six weeks, and we did a backpacking trip for three of those weeks. Our goal was to basically cross the Southern Alps on the South Island in New Zealand from south to north. Just by hike-and-fly.
And is it really like that, with an island and these Southern Alps, that they're so wild and remote that you're actually out there away from civilization for almost three weeks?
Yes and no. I mean, when you plan something like this, you don't just fly there and see how it develops. We looked a bit, and there's the main chain, so the high mountains, which are a bit diverse. Yes, exactly. And it's also the case that you split off from the rest of the island on the west coast, and on the west side, the moist air builds up brutally. And you also get relatively a lot of rain; it's beautifully green. And in between, I'd say, there are indeed often valleys where you can get in, you can get there, but it's very difficult to reach on foot or by car. So the paraglider has...
Yeah, exactly, the whole thing also allows you to go a bit off-road or, well, a bit beyond the infrastructure.
And what is it about New Zealand in particular that excites you so much, that you say you found it one of the most beautiful? Is it precisely because it has this wilderness that you can still explore somewhat safely with a paraglider?
New Zealand is an island, it's seven, so the South Island.
Seven hundred kilometers long and maybe 150, 200 kilometers wide at the widest point. And of course, you have the influence of the sea breeze there. We had a flight where we were in this corridor with really great thermal conditions, little wind, and you could just see the base over 3,000 meters, how the sea breeze was washing in from the west and east. And we were basically flying in the valleys, not just along ridges, but I think we had to do four or five valley crossings where we just had to fly over these seemingly endless valleys.
And then these beautiful blue rivers meandered through, and it was just such untouched nature. It's stayed, I'd say, very impressively in my memories. And that's why it's been one of my highlights so far. If
So you're saying that from both sides you could see the sea breeze washing in, and were you then sort of in a convergence zone in the middle where you were able to fly?
I suspect it was also a convergence zone. It was about 40 to 50 kilometers wide. We had really great climb rates, also in a good double-digit range. But it was a very good flight. It was just nice to fly, and I'm relatively sure that a convergence effect played a role there too.
You did that New Zealand trip in 2017, 2018. You hadn't been flying for very long then, if I remember correctly. I believe you only got your A-license in April 2015. So after two years, you dared to do a trip that actually requires quite a lot of skills—where you'd say, real wilderness flying, hike and fly, launching from wild spots, with the launch sites and everything else. Looking back, were you actually already mature enough for that in terms of your flying? Or did you dare something back then that ultimately turned out wonderfully? But was it perhaps already a bit beyond your abilities at the time?
That's a very good question, and I've actually thought about that too. Not just in relation to New Zealand, because I see that now in my youth, because let's just say, I'm not the young wild one anymore. I'm more of an experienced, older paraglider pilot now. But back then with the two years, I was definitely a candidate, let's say, who belonged to the young wild ones. I got my license in April 2015. I was basically at the launch site as soon as it was possible. Sometimes even when the wind was too strong. I got my license in the Swabian Alb. And there, a lot of it was done with Zorn, a lot of strong wind Zorn.
And if I didn't fly for a week, that was already a long break, let's just say. I fly a lot, but you grow with experience. And you only get that experience over time. Of course, we also had to feel our way through things. I started flying with Nikolas Mantos back then. We also did a bivouac trip through the South Island. Then we did the Alps, here in the Alps. It was very exciting, very cool. I'd say that in New Zealand, it's extremely difficult to get a reliable forecast. Or rather, the danger in New Zealand is that the weather can change relatively quickly. And you then have to improvise a lot.
So we definitely had one or two experiences that certainly turned out very well. But only because we were lucky.
What is the... what's the most striking experience that's stuck in your mind, where you'd say, I was really lucky or...
did we really get lucky? There were four of us, and for three of us, I'd say it was the kind of experience where you're kind of thinking, phew, yeah, okay, that went well for once. For me, it was actually pretty unnecessary on the last day of the bivouac trip. We climbed back up the mountain. The forecast actually said it would be good, but then the weather somehow turned worse. And we just had a really thick layer of clouds below us. We looked at the webcam because we had reception. It was a ski field, and we were able to estimate, roughly, that the cloud layer was about 400 meters thick.
So, it was pretty substantial, not just some bit of fog or a thin layer of clouds. And we... we didn't hike down, but started and flew through it, basically navigating with XCTrack. That means we flew through it,
that was really solid cloud cover and you couldn't see anything?
Yeah. So we relied purely on the red arrow on XCTrack, basically on the GPS. I mean, of course, I'd played around with the clouds before and thought it would work out pretty well. And then suddenly, the circle... the arrow started spinning relatively fast. And I was like, hey, that can't be right. And then somehow my phone didn't have a proper GPS signal anymore and eventually I flew a big circle, or I did a big circle, and at some point flew back onto the slope. Then at some point it started beeping again because there was wind involved, and I was like, okay, it's not so good if you're heading out towards the edge.
And then I saw mountains in front of me, grass, rocks. And I made one more turn, everything went well. But I'd say flying into a grassy slope with a bit of a tailwind, dotted with rocks, is definitely not great. In the end, it didn't get us anywhere because we landed right at the bottom and could have just walked down. That was 1,500 meters of altitude. I mean, we were carrying almost 30 kilos. That was on the last day when we said, due to the weather, we're calling it off, and we already had quite a few meters and kilometers in our legs. But yeah. What made you take that risk back then?
From a reasoning standpoint? I mean, yeah, okay, it was a bit, let's say, naive. You head out, just fly straight, eventually come out of the clouds, and then you go land.
That the instruments can fail in a situation like that, yeah. That's something I didn't think about, I mean, that's my lesson learned. I have a compass with me, a normal one, it can't fail. But I don't rely on that kind of thing anymore either. I mean, in normal flying, you don't do something like that anyway.
Was that something from your decision-making side, when you took the whole thing? Would you say that was maybe one of the riskiest moments in your flying career?
Good question. Yes, sort of. I mean,
Currently, relatively recently, because I've already started thinking about it again regarding the lecture on X-SERPs. With the X-SERPs, I had a moment where I actually knew it wasn't that good to just go for it. And that was definitely very risky. But I was more accustomed to the whole thing or could handle it well. Given the skills I had back then, I think it was already quite risky. Just relying blindly on the instruments in an environment where there are basically obstacles right next to you.
Yeah, I haven't thought that far ahead.
Maybe we'll come back to the topic of risk later. I'll jump back to the beginning for a bit. I mentioned those four things: the Alps, the Himalayas, New Zealand, and the desert. If you were to say where you'd really love to fly and where maybe less so, where would you place or rank the desert in that order?
So I even did my longest lowland flight in the desert. But in South Africa.
The desert is only interesting because you're probably not used to flying there. But if I look at why, why, why I decided to head towards the mountains? It's because I originally come from the lowlands. Why do I prefer flying in the mountains and less in the lowlands? For me, that's the variety. I got into flying in the first place because I used to spend a lot of time in the mountains. And every mountain has its own uniqueness. And that's why I like flying around peaks, looking at them, and discovering new mountain terrain. And I'm drawn to the lowlands too, but more from the aviation aspect and the variety, and less to, let's say, enjoy the nature.
I'd put the desert a bit further out, to be honest.
Well, you actually took part in the first UAE Hike and Fly Championship back in November 2021. That involved flying in the desert too. What appealed to you about that?
Yeah, the whole thing came about pretty spontaneously. At the X-Alps, the guy asked us who was actually the main driving force behind the UAE Hike and Fly Championship?
Whether, during the Pre Week at the X-Alps, we'd be up for participating in some kind of Hike and Fly championship. And my first thought was like, phew, yeah, where are you supposed to do Hike and Fly there? Do we have to climb up some skyscrapers or do we have to trek around in the desert?
And I said, yeah, feel free to send me some information and I'll take a look at it. A bit later we got the information and it was actually something like hike and fly on a skyscraper. And of course, there are also mountains in the United Arab Emirates in the northeast. They're not that low at all, almost 2,000 meters high, which is interesting in principle. And well, then there was also a desert task. What moved me to go there? I just found the United Arab Emirates appealing because it's something completely new from a flying perspective, because questions like that came up. Yeah, cool, if you start at the beach of a skyscraper like that and fly,
you also have the lake -land breeze there. Can you feel that? Is there thermals on the building facades from below? How does the launch even work up there? Because ultimately, you have a sharp edge. It's a brutal cliff launch. None of it is trivial. And I just found, let's say, the newness from an aviation perspective appealing. And that's why I decided to try the whole thing out.
Take us with you to Dubai and the United Arab Emirates for a bit. What stood out to you the most about this event? Whether it was the land, the people, the landscapes, the flying experience, or whatever else? Tell us everything.
probably the jump from the skyscraper, because ultimately that was more or less what flashed everyone the most among the participants. And I think that's why everyone made the individual decision to go there. The skyscraper jump, that was
A hotel over 70 stories high that you were at. Up top, there was a rooftop pool, a really big one. And next to it, there was a platform that you had to—or were allowed to—start from, or something like that. What was that like?
Exactly, so it was 77 floors, 300 meters in height. It was brutally weird because we actually—I mean, it was a competition format that hadn't really existed like that before, with individual competitions, and before each competition, you take a look at the location a bit. We were at the skyscraper on the site visit day and saw the platform, and it was de facto just not finished; there was scaffolding and loose plates laid out. Everyone was like, are they trying to mess with us or is something still happening? And tomorrow is the competition, and how are we supposed to start from here?
And they actually managed to get it all sorted out overnight so that there was a nice platform standing there. But we spent a relatively long time discussing the day before how we were going to run the competition, because a start like that is very technical and very risky. It's obviously not good if you're building up pressure over the competition, so to speak, to take on more risk. We then thought about whether we should just do the first competition just for fun, where everyone can do it but no one has to, or if we should make it a pure running competition. What ultimately happened was that you run up the stairwell once,
then you can start or run back down again. And then you had to run a bit further into the water on the beach. It goes relatively fast on the platform. I mean, I was the second one to start at the first start. But many people tried before me and there were a lot of aborted starts. Did you have anything like that?
Was it drawn by lot? Or something? I just remember seeing on the day before, where you said that, where that wooden scaffolding was still there, there were also pictures on Instagram where people were writing comments like, hey guys, don't kill yourselves, don't start there, and stuff like that. And there was also a very nice short video clip with Kriegel Maurer, where he said that beautiful quote in English, but I'll say it in German now, where he said the best tactic will probably be not to start first. So.
I don't know, the other person should just throw themselves into the abyss. Then I'll see how the whole thing works. Was that really the atmosphere among you guys?
So we went up there in small groups, and those who were, let's say, the first ones up there and back down already looked pretty pale, but the platform just wasn't finished yet. And on the second day, there was more of an excitement about it. And yeah, sort of like the challenge. Yeah, this is doable, we can manage this. And the wind actually played along relatively well because it was coming from the side. And that means you could actually deploy the glider, control it a bit, and then decide. Yeah, do I abort or do I just run over the edge? Well,
I think you were the first ones to ever launch out of there from up top. That's really something, it's a premiere. You don't really know what the wind conditions are like around a skyscraper like that. Like, what kind of side eddies or whatever else form there? Do you feel a bit like a guinea pig? Or is it just excitement? I want to try it out now. What is it like?
Yeah, well, during the first competition, I didn't feel that way at all, because it was more about my own challenge. And I thought it was brutal. It was exciting to see how the other athletes approached it. In terms of the start technique, some of them went up almost another floor and jumped over a railing, like over a parapet. But then they went straight into the wind. We started out with a crosswind that was actually coming from slightly behind and diagonal, and we kept waiting for good phases.
And yeah, so I did the whole thing out of my own interest or my own personal challenge. But in hindsight, you can definitely ask yourself that question, because I asked myself quite a lot on the third day, or at least thought about it for a bit.
Also about this start too. You did ponder that start from the high-rise, didn't you? Like, how sensible it actually was.
So, about the whole competition. Why? Well, on the third day, two accidents happened, and there was just a task, I'd say, that was placed a bit unfortunately, because you're basically more or less motivated to fly full throttle along an edge the whole time.
That was a task in the desert, so where you basically have a sand desert and in the middle there was something like a saw-tooth, a rock ridge, where you did a sort of soaring race task. Ritsch, Ratsch, there
longitudinally. That was a 15-kilometer ridge right in the desert. And it was about flying along the edge, Ritsch, Ratsch. When you set a task like that, you should already be thinking about scenarios for what happens if there's an accident, because you're flying at full throttle, just barely above the terrain. Or you get motivated—I'd say not everyone did, and some fly with common sense, but it wasn't exactly without risk. Because there were these tiny hills positioned just in front of the ridge, and at a 30-knot wind, they still create some pretty unsafe turbulence.
And yeah, in the end, there was an accident, and it really bothered me that even though it was said a helicopter was coming after two and a half hours, the crashed person was picked up in a police car, even though it was stated that he had seriously injured his back. And then you ask yourself, what am I actually doing here? Yeah, I really got the feeling that the whole thing was more like a gladiatorial fight and that the entertainment and the show were the main focus, and with that thought, you can of course wonder, well, you could be a bit of a guinea pig, get really good athletes who know what they're doing, and have them jump from that skyscraper.
For
the images and so on were definitely a very good idea, because from a marketing perspective, it's something that falls off for Dubai, but it might also be a win-win situation for the paragliding scene in terms of very beautiful images where you can show paragliding in front of a very exciting city skyline. That really makes a statement, of course.
Yeah, yeah, although in that case, I'm of course...
That's true, the ones on social media—the videos and pictures—really went through the roof. But the reason why is actually the interest of the athletes in going there and trying it out in the first place. They weren't forced. They didn't get a huge prize pool that would somehow tempt them to, let's say, start; it was more like, it's something completely new. I'll try it, and either it works or I just don't do it. Because it's something completely new, that's ultimately how it got hyped up.
What did you think specifically about this championship in the United Arab Emirates? How did you like this format when you look at it as a racing format? For me, especially the last one, the fourth task, where you flew back and forth at that ridge in the desert, but also had turning points out there where you had to land and then rush back to the ridge itself—that felt a bit like a Formula 1 race to me. Like, there's a course and they're really chasing each other and overtaking one another. And sometimes you kite up the slope and one starts 50—or not 50, but maybe ten meters—lower than the other and already has a small lead, or maybe not, because you have to wonder: will he find the connection to actually be able to catch up or not, and stuff like that. So that was also... I watched some of it in the videos afterwards, not everything live right now.
From what I saw, I actually found it to be a very interesting, exciting new format. Was it the same for you as pilots—would you say it's a format that might have a future in some way?
Definitely. I thought the general competition and the competition format were also very interesting. It had less to do with a high-kite-fly championship, but rather presented an interesting new type of competition. Of course, you had to be somewhat fit, but fitness wasn't the deciding factor in doing well. The first competition was a pure running competition. Okay, the second competition in the mountains was really beautiful high-kite-fly, not because of the surroundings. I mean, we ran up a road and took a shortcut cross-country at some point, but it was really about the poker. On the second ascent, I run up or try to launch deep out and fly up.
And that was, that was a very close race between the two leading groups. One was running, the other was flying. And especially in the desert, that combination doesn't just test, let's say, being a good pilot, but also how I handle the glider, do I run up, carry it, pack it out, kite it up, the ground handling skills. So it was, it was simply such an all-around paraglider competition. From that perspective, it was also a very tactical race then. A very tactical race. And that was already a lot of fun. So I wouldn't be surprised if, if somewhere else a similar format is basically
...taken over or the format is adopted on a similar scale and carried out in that way.
If another hike-and-fly competition were announced in Dubai in 2022, would you participate in it again?
No, I wouldn't participate anymore because what appealed to me, let's just say, I've seen it. I think I've seen a lot of it. But there's nothing more to see there, let's put it that way. And since time is limited, I'd rather invest that time somewhere nicer. I'm more of a mountain guy. I can't really say I'm discovering anything new now, because I've already been there. Well,
You do all sorts of different types of hike-and-fly competitions. Now, there's the one in the desert, and then you've already mentioned X-Alps. You've also participated in and won various Cross-Alps and other events, like Salewa, Ironfly, and so on. Which type of these hike-and-fly competitions do you actually enjoy the most? They all have slightly different characters, both in terms of length and route selection, and also regarding the demands placed on you as a route. Which format do you actually find to be the best for yourself?
These are actually Hike-and-Fly races that span several days and prescribe a certain route. Not completely, but via waypoints. So Dolomiti Superfly, Ironfly, XPU is definitely also really cool. That's why I'm currently looking into whether I'll sign up. The registration deadline is at the end of December, or then X-Alps. Because that comes relatively close to what I associate with adventure flying. So you have a given route and you try to manage the route with the weather you have.
And the whole thing has so many variables that make it all a bit opaque. You can plan a lot, you can think of a lot, but in the end, it's always different from how you planned or thought it would be. The uncertainty and the improvisation during the competition itself just have such an adventurous character, and that's actually what fascinates me the most and what I enjoy the most.
Out of all the competitions mentioned, would you say you have the most fun doing the X-Alps, or is it simply the most significant just because it's the largest in its form?
In terms of the fun factor, I'd say even the smaller ones are nicer and better because you don't have so much effort involved in the whole competition. The X-Alps, the teams at the X-Alps, the whole thing is so professionalized now. I had a team with five supporters with me, two vehicles, a physio, and someone responsible for nutrition. The effort just becomes extremely large. And with a smaller competition, you have one supporter and the whole thing is kept a bit more minimalist and small. I think that fits paragliding better. I mean, everyone says something like, "Yeah, here, I'm flying with my own strength or moving with my own strength and flying with nature" and so on, with thermal lift.
I move along there. But I still have some kind of vehicle or a whole team accompanying me across the Alps, and thousands of kilometers are covered. In terms of the ecological aspect, the whole thing is actually kind of nonsense again. And in the early days of the X-Alps, it was like, you had one supporter and that was it. And the whole thing was more of a minimalist adventure. And now, the X-Alps is simply a race, a professionalized race, and you can see that with the smaller competitions too, that the level and the professionalism are increasing.
But the whole thing is still within an acceptable framework and the effort remains limited.
When you look at all these competitions, what is perhaps a very misunderstood skill, from your perspective, that one needs to be successful in such competitions?
I would say very clearly, sort of the gift of observation and improvisation. Of course, you can be the fittest athlete and outrun everyone, or the best of the best competition pilot. But if you're out there alone, you can't control anyone and you're not independent. You're not navigating independently. And what benefits me a lot is, when I'm relatively free in my mindset, that I can say, I can take a look at myself for a bit. In which performance area am I operating? How fit am I? And that I can still look and have the flexibility to deviate from plans and look for something better.
And if I see a "sun hole" somewhere and everything is closing in or a bird is acting up, even though there shouldn't be anything there, I can still fly there. If I just have a strict plan, the whole thing doesn't work. And seeing something like that is, in my opinion, simply a talent for improvisation, the gift of observing and just staying calm.
How do you maintain something like that in competition? I can imagine, even with X-Alps, maybe you glance at the live tracking every now and then, or you take a break with your supporters and then you look together. Where are the others? And otherwise, you see, "Ah, I've fallen behind again" or something. How much pressure builds up there, that you might lose this mindset, that you lose this openness to really immerse yourself in the situation so that you can make real progress quickly?
Yeah, an extreme amount. During the first X-Alps, I went in completely headfirst. At some point, I was very exhausted. When you're in that state of exhaustion, you naturally become more vulnerable. You're not mentally fit anymore; you're no longer above it all. And then, at some point, it just goes in one direction. I really developed a tunnel vision after about seven or eight days, and things didn't really go well for me after that. I've tried to analyze the whole thing as much as possible, talked about it a lot with many people, and also tried to make myself mentally stronger. For example, I told my supporters, "Hey, feel free to check out the live tracking."
So, from a tactical standpoint. When might a team head up the mountain? Which route options are they choosing? But please don't tell me how fit we are and try to block that out too, because with the X-Ups, it's extremely important to make well-thought-out decisions and not make mistakes. And if someone is first, or if I'm first—I'll take it personally—then I get happy, and emotions come into play, and emotions can lead you to do things that might not be so good from a long-term perspective, meaning in relation to the X-Ups, like if I push too hard right now.
I'm in first, so I'll push even harder. You can't be more efficient by putting more pressure on yourself. So, that doesn't work for me. That's why I've always tried to use certain tactics or questions—even questions I asked myself—just to keep bringing myself back down to a level of composure, so that I can basically stand next to myself and assess: Hey, how am I doing right now? Because I also... I was actually in first at the home turnaround on the second day. And of course, it stands out when you first reach a signboard where you sign as the first person. And I got so blurred there that I...
that I've somehow gotten faster. And then I noticed, okay, I'm gasping for breath. And then I asked myself, why am I doing this right now? Does it make sense? Actually, it doesn't, and I actively pulled myself back. And the energy to do something like that, let's just say, you can muster it very well at the beginning. But with the continuous race, and because the X-Alps are so long, it becomes very difficult towards the end.
Was was actually your path to these X-Alps? You only got your A-license in 2015, we said, and by 2019 you were already participating in the X-Alps. So, four years later, this was your path to the X-Alps. Did you plan it in any way, or was the idea set from the beginning and you really aligned your flying career towards that, or was it ultimately a coincidence that you ended up there?
Yeah, it's pretty funny. So, I studied in Stuttgart and had a roommate who actually started paragliding before I did. And at some point, he told me something about the X-Alps. And I couldn't believe it at all—that people with a ten-kilo backpack walk here for ten days straight, covering 40, 50, 60 kilometers and somehow doing 3,000 meters of altitude gain per day. I was already relatively athletic, but I'd say, maybe I walked 30 kilometers on a hike somewhere and then I was completely exhausted. Just on a mountain tour with heavy boots and all that. But I actually never entertained the idea of taking part in the X-Alps back then.
When my roommate started flying, it didn't really grab me at all. It wasn't until a high-altitude tour that I experienced it live—like, hey, someone just flew down from a four-thousand-meter peak with a paraglider, and that's actually pretty cool. It sort of developed like that. So, I got into cross-country flying more or less by chance and my own motivation. I had a flight area that was 15 kilometers from where I lived, and at some point I thought, yeah, I can fly home from that flight area. I don't have to fly in the flight area the whole time. I tried that a few times, landed a lot of times, and eventually, I made it. And then I said, okay, cool, I can basically set a goal and then try to fly there.
And then I tried it from a more distant flying area and succeeded too. And then I sort of got into cross-country flying step by step. And in 2016, I did my first Hike and Fly competition. That was the Border Race in Levico. And I just joined in because I thought it was exciting, doing nothing but Hike and Fly for 33 hours. And then the day comes when you can, let's say, look at the weather and see a bit, okay, the weather isn't actually that great. For the first time, it looks somewhat stormy for the next day and eventually it rains. And the second day is then really bad.
And of course, you have to ask yourself, should I even go there and take part? Usually, you pick the flight weather. But we went anyway, Nico and I.
And the first day developed relatively well. And we—well, I flew my fifth 100-kilometer flight during the Border Race on the day I actually thought it wasn't possible to fly that far. We flew from Levico over Feldtrip to Peluno and then a bit back. And then the second thermal was just somehow running another 100 kilometers back in 24 hours. I had never trained for something that long. And it was somehow 105 kilometers. I would have made it in terms of time, but after 95 kilometers, I just stiffened my ankle on the asphalt. But I was still there. I gave up, so to speak, or didn't make it to the goal.
But I kind of realized, on one hand, it's really cool and it's not just about trying to get the maximum out of good flying days or going out to fly and making use of what you get. And on the other hand, it's about testing your body a bit, testing the limits, and what can I actually do? I mean, it really amazed me that I can walk almost 100 kilometers, even though I haven't trained for anything like that.
And I really enjoyed the whole thing. And then I did the Border Race 2017 again. I was actually very good there and I even won the overall ranking in the end. And of course I asked myself, wow, I haven't been flying for that long. Why did I win this now? Was it? Did I just get lucky? In 2018, I did more Hike & Fly competitions and it just ran consistently well, won many competitions, had really good placements in many of them, and I enjoyed it. And then people already told me, wow, hey, the way you're winning these Hike & Fly competitions and getting results, join the Xherps. Wow, hey, Xherps, that's too big of a deal.
And then in 2018, after the Ironfly, I really started believing that I could actually apply for Xherps, because I'm about to finish my studies. And that's actually an opportunity right now. And if I get accepted, then I can do it, I can use it, because I have a lot of time right now. So I applied. And then I got accepted and of course I was thrilled. But I'd say at the beginning I really thought it was kind of a bit of a fluke. But looking at the big picture, I had already been flying a lot, I'd made a lot of progress because I was literally flying almost every week, even over the winter. So it's not that far-fetched at all to do the Xherps after four years.
I think Benoit Uther had only been flying for about four years at his first Xherps participation. That
means it mainly depends on flying a lot, flying in all sorts of weather conditions that are still somewhat flyable, so not unsafe. To then really—well, that's where you just have to develop the experience and the skills and so on, so that you can hold your own in such competitions.
Yeah, no, especially making the decision to go flying independently. I think that's what helped me the most—just looking at the weather myself from the very beginning. Like, "Hey, it looks good for flying. I'll head out." Then the wind was too strong, and eventually, I knew for myself, "Okay, this is fine for soaring. This might not be so great. I can skip this today." And then just, let's say, continuing to develop.
You just said you eventually knew it yourself. On that path there, how many bad experiences did you have? Or was it like they often say, you have seven lives, and as a beginner, you use up at least six of them because you're getting through so many situations you don't even understand yet, and in the end, you're standing there happily on the ground knowing, okay, maybe I shouldn't go flying anymore or something like that.
Actually, not that many. I mean, New Zealand was definitely a story of flying around aimlessly in the soup. But with normal paragliding, I didn't have that many "aha" moments. But at some point, I started reflecting on the whole thing because, I mean, sooner or later you do pick up on things. You hear about accidents and, of course, you start thinking, "Wow, yeah, I mean, if something happens, you just fall from the sky." And in the beginning, in the beginning, let's say, you have this kind of feeling of immortality, and based on the experience,
you reflect on it more. And nowadays, I actually reflect on almost every flight I do. I mean, not necessarily a glide flight. Those are nice experiences, but when I, let's say, do cross-country flights or, or competitions, or fly in conditions where I just say, yeah, okay, that was pushing it. Then I think a lot about the flights, because for me, fun, joy, and the experience are the main things. And I'd say, if I relate the whole thing to the X-Ups, having more risk wouldn't have helped me at all with the X-Ups. On the contrary, I probably would have injured myself sooner or something. But in 2020, I had a, let's say, more defining aha-moment.
It actually wasn't a very difficult day at all. A bit windy during the Border Race at Hochschwab. I started second, behind the Messner woman. And in terms of conditions, there was already a good wind. About 20, maybe 25 km/h in gusts. Pretty much shaded. Little thermals. And Simon Oberaner started out ahead of me, and he even released the brake shortly after takeoff to basically get the leg bag up so he could get in. And then I also pulled up my glider, handled it a bit above me, and it was beautifully laminar, just standing there nicely, no turbulence. And then I took off, and two seconds later, I was just like a...
an invisible fist jerked me upward and I got a pretty big collapse on the left and right, and then I flew backward. Because of the increased drag, I sank extremely fast. First, I looked down. Okay, I'm flying reasonably stably. I'm supporting myself now, and then I reflexively tried to reinflate the glider. But the altitude wasn't, wasn't very high. And then I landed a bit roughly against a rock face and...
my hands were screaming and the bands were overstretched, so it ended relatively clumsily. But I just thought to myself, because I also wipe myself out every now and then, that after the launch I somehow, yeah, maybe for a short moment grab the leg bag or do things like that. And if I had done that in this case, I probably would have been slammed down pretty, pretty hard. Or—there's even a video of it, but not online. I watched it for a relatively long time and thought about it, and actually, I did everything right. But sometimes things just happen that you don't have on your radar, that aren't predictable. Because there, a very strong, narrow, small thermal just ripped off. Shortly after I basically launched or made the launch decision.
And of course, you start to overthink things a bit more. If
So you're saying you always reflect on such wings. What does reflecting on the result mean to you? Do you write anything down or make notes for yourself? Like, "don't start again in conditions where there's XY wind, a steep slope ahead, or whatever"? Or is it just something where you say you reflect to the extent that you incorporate it into your gut feeling in some way, and next time you get into such a situation, your gut reacts accordingly and tells you something. I don't know, I can't even say exactly what, but maybe I'd rather go somewhere else.
That's actually a very good question. So first, I usually go through and analyze the flight. I look at the track again. I play the whole thing through in my head a bit. How did I perceive it? How did I experience it, so to speak? In competitions, I then compare that with others, of course with other flights. What did I do well? What did I do poorly? Which situation could I have avoided? Which one was really critical? Why was that the case? And stuff like that certainly shapes your gut feeling a bit, because if I'm in doubt and don't know what to do anymore, then
I often rely on my gut feeling when flying as well.
What's it actually like? I mean, you're doing so much hike and fly now with competitions and X-Alps and preparing for half a year and all that. Would you actually consider yourself a hike and fly pro by now?
At this point, I'd almost say yes, but I mean, I think we all agree. The whole thing is a niche sport. And even if you're a pro, you're just one of...
I wouldn't say I'm the best, I won't say it now, because it takes a certain kind of drive to participate in the X-Alps, and a lot of factors come into play there. But I actually wouldn't call myself, well, I write it on social media, but I wouldn't call myself world-class here, because ultimately, in a niche sport, you still have the opportunity to reach a very high level relatively quickly or with a lot of talent and practice. I see that especially with many young pilots who are out flying almost every day here, who show such rapid development in one or two years—it's hard to say whether that's a good thing.
If I could give myself a tip, I'd say, hey, just take it a bit slower, because after two years I've actually flown almost my... well, not a 200, but a 199 triangle. And what actually makes it all special is the experience, the joy, the fun—flying is just a super brilliant, cool, beautiful hobby. And I personally slipped into that track where I started flying for points. You know, you upload your flights to the DAV XC. And then, then, then, it's this gradual process where suddenly you're like, wow, yeah, now, wow, I actually wanted to fly 250 but only did 244.
But the flight is still freaking awesome and gorgeous. And I'm glad I got back down from that relatively quickly and can just say, hey, if I go up the mountain in the morning before work and fly down at sunrise, or after work, or during my lunch break, just for a glide. That's also gorgeous and freaking awesome. You are
Yeah, I even became the German champion in cross-country flying with the DAV XC in the overall standings. Was that the year where you'd say you were, like, super good at scoring points, or however you want to put it?
No, not at all. Actually, those were just training flights for the X-Alps. I just wanted to rack up a lot of flight hours under my glider and used every flight day to be as prepared as possible for the X-Alps. Because for the X-Alps, many people always ask how much you train for it, and the fitness training alone is just one point, one pillar of the whole construct. And then I just say, well, I train between 10 and 14 hours a week. Effectively. Outside of that, of course, it's a bit more. But flying is also part of the training, then building a team, doing team-building measures.
I even went that far for this year's X-Alps. I basically started putting my team together and actually doing the planning back in January 2020, because half a year just isn't enough.
So you basically had about a year and a half of preparation for this competition in the end?
Yes, definitely.
Isn't it also a burden, when you focus so much of your life on a competition like that?
I've had to listen to that before. I mean, your state of mind changes up until day X, when it really gets going, it changes extremely. You become, let's say,
more tense, you get irritated quickly, it gets more and more stressful. But the whole thing is a ton of fun for me. I like doing sports, I like flying. Of course, one time or another it's really just a pure, stupid training session or one is just a flight. I do that now basically from a training perspective. I practice top landings or I fly the same flight, but just try to somehow make it faster or more efficient. What helps me extremely there is simply setting goals so that I'm not just doing it, but that I have some kind of incentive, but I really love doing it. And that's why I also told myself that
I've actually already said that I'm almost already signing up for X-Labs 23 again, even though I don't even know if I'm allowed to participate again. If you...
Looking at races like these from the outside—probably from the inside too, but maybe from the outside it stands out even more—because many of these maneuvers and landing maneuvers and everything else that everyone does, a pilot would never actually pull off themselves. The question of risk tolerance in such competitions. Do you basically have to be willing to go beyond certain limits, so to speak, just to be able to break into the top ten, but in exchange, you're basically taking the risk of putting your health on the line a bit?
I mean, by nature, I'm the type of person who likes to push the limits.
And something like that probably gets you further at the beginning, let's say. But in the long run, of course, it's really, really stupid to take unnecessary risks, and if I look back at the X-Apps, then at no point or in no decision would any more risk have gotten me further. On the contrary, I'm actually brooding a bit about the ninth day, when there was a very southerly foehn situation and I flew on the south side of Mont Blanc, because I mean, you could really see the clouds pushing over the pass and I still took off.
And I knew that I wouldn't be able to fly over it and would have to land somewhere before it. And I managed to make a... well, a successful landing in a snowfield, which was relatively steep, but I flew into the slope at eight meters during the final approach, sinking eight meters because I was simply in the lee of 45, 50 km winds.
How much of these risky flights happen out of a kind of defiance?
Out of defiance? Yes, where he says, "Yeah, this is shit, fuck the weather. I have to get moving somehow." And so you could say you're defying the weather. But there's one thing about resisting the weather, and then there's the other, which is having a certain level of defiance where you say, "Actually, I shouldn't have been flying here." But you do it anyway.
Yeah, so it might look like that, that it goes a bit in that direction. But I'd say, over the years, through experience, and also through experiences that maybe weren't so good—or decisions that weren't so good—like flying in the rain here, that means you're not supposed to do something like that. It's also, you're not supposed to do it. There are good reasons not to do it. But I try things like that out in advance and I know that a new glider might not fly as well in the rain as a slightly more used glider, or I just want to know how my glider flies in the rain, because I'm sure that I might do that during a competition under certain circumstances, and I just want to be sure—not necessarily to push my limits in that competition, but I define my limits beforehand.
I mean, the motivation, at least my motivation during the Xherps, was—so my motivation, my main motivation, was getting a task, basically completing the course and reaching the goal. If the weather simply doesn't allow for flying, then I don't do it. And I can assess that for myself relatively well. But I wasn't,
I watched videos of where they landed at the Fernpass der Aron. And it was blowing pretty hard there. And they flew over the Fernpass at 100, 110 km/h. I told myself, honestly, I'm glad I wasn't with them, because maybe someone would have made a defiant decision there. I don't know. Because some people do it and, yeah, okay, the weather, but somehow—I don't know, it's hard to say. But I haven't actually made a decision like that for myself yet, where I just say, oh, fuck it, I'm just going for it.
If you look at it from the outside and see, as you yourself say, there are all these conditions where you flew during the X-Alps where people would normally say you shouldn't fly—like flying in rain, flying in Föhn, taking off in strong winds, very strong winds, and so on. To what extent would you say that the X-Alps, as successful as they are, actually serve as a bad role model for ordinary pilots?
Yeah, I mean, after the X-Alps, specifically because of my work at Skywalk, I also dealt with Robin Fries, the AV managing director. And he asked me how I actually saw the X-Alps. Because here, there's flying in the rain, flying blind, they start into the fog, they land on the road, and so on. And with the way the whole thing is hyped up in the media, or how much reach it has, of course, there are many people watching who might then say, "Wow, yeah, maybe I want to do the X-Alps too and I'll have to land on the road as well."
...or flying in the rain and so on. But that perspective is a bit naive, because you just have to be aware of why you're doing the whole thing. For yourself. And I mean, even if you win the X-Alps, the prize money isn't high and you can't live off it anyway. So, in the best-case scenario, if you don't have sponsorship money, you might just cover your expenses during the race, so it's about doing the race for yourself and having an experience, an adventure.
Of course, you take risks, but the decisions are actually very well weighed. And I think the race organizers also look for candidates who can do that. The worst-case scenario for a race like this would be if a really serious accident actually happened.
Let's put the X-Alps topic aside for a moment and, at the end, touch on another subject that you just mentioned as a keyword yourself. Besides your, let's say, professional life as a hike-and-fly athlete, you said you work at Skywalk. What do you actually do there?
I've been working at Skywalk since 2019. I started because 2019 was the year of my first X-Alps participation, so I worked in the workshop, relatively flexibly. At 50 percent, just so I could really prepare well for the X-Alps. I have a job where I obviously earn a bit of money, but I can more or less tailor everything to the X-Alps. But I studied aerospace engineering and I just didn't end up being happy in the workshop in the long run, and after the X-Alps, I looked for a new challenge and the E-Walk came back up for us. Since 2018, development has been ramped up again, and it reached a technical stage where they said, hey, we need a harness now.
We need someone at Skywalk to lead and test the project. And I flew the old E-Walk prototype and actually thought the idea behind it was very cool, and then in early 2020, I basically took over the project management and the Kurzzeug development at Skywalk for the E-Walk.
Now let me explain it again. There might be some listeners who don't know or can't place it. What is the E-Walk?
The E-Walk is basically an electric ascent aid. A short rig with an integrated motor and a folding propeller to take off on flat ground and then, essentially as a winch tug replacement, use the electric motor to climb for that one ascent, and then you switch the whole thing off and fly thermally or dynamically on some ridge. You can fly over there or just glide down. And conceptually, the whole thing isn't designed like a paramotor, which is built for sustained flight; rather, the capacity of the whole thing, from the batteries, is dimensioned so that you can do an ascent and still have a bit of reserve.
With our current one, you can reach 650 meters and then, depending on how quickly you reached those meters or the 650 meters, you can still look for thermals at altitude for a bit. Five to ten minutes. And the whole thing is simply optimized for free flight. The ascent is a means to an end. So, an electric ascent aid for paragliders.
Well, you have to know about this E-Walk—I think I have the first version you guys made back then. That was already ten years or over ten years ago, exactly when the first one was developed. And back then, there was actually a program where the Luftfahrtbundesamt, the DAV, and so on said, okay, we want to do a testing program to see if we can really use this electric ascent aid—meaning getting up for thermal flying with electric thrust—as an additional type of launch in any way, so that you don't have to get a powered glider license for it. And now you're on it again. In the meantime, the program was on ice for a bit, partly because the batteries were too expensive and other things, then you picked it up again in 2018.
So, what's the status now? Is this electric ascent aid happening?
Yes, so for hang gliders, it's actually like this. There is a certified device that I got involved in the project for. I also thought there would be one for paragliders, but we then had a demonstration at the DAV where a new person from the Federal Aviation Office was there. Because ten years ago, it was different people. Ultimately, the decision was made that way. The distinction from a paramotor is smaller than from a normal paraglider. That's why the whole thing won't be able to be approved as an e-launch type, so to speak.
This has to go through the ultralight category. And of course, that changes the cards a bit, so to speak, because you're not moving in the paraglider scene and bringing a new start method to market; instead, you're going into the UL sector and defining a specific UL as an electric ascent aid. We've naturally re-evaluated the project in that regard, because the framework conditions have changed significantly. The criteria for an electric ascent aid defined back in 2010-11 are basically irrelevant and no longer valid for us, because we are still ULs.
But we've said that even among the ULs, there are simply the ones or many backpack motors designed for continuous operation. And you have a rigid construct; you sit relatively upright. An E-ascent aid definitely still has a reason to exist. We are still relatively far along with the development. Our B-model, we're already really busy flying with that. And we want to continue, finish it, and bring it to market. That
means there will be an E-Walk, which is also what it's called, and it's supposed to hit the market next year—or when is it supposed to come out?
We're actually working on a landing page right now where we'll be releasing images and video material of the current prototype. So, what does prototype mean? It's already a very mature product because we've been developing it for over three years now. Specifically, we'll be building more devices in May 2022 and will soon put up a survey on the landing page where people can proactively get involved and, so to speak, apply to be a test candidate.
That we move from internal testing into another test group or another test phase. After that, we'll compile everything and make a series. So whether that's at the end of 2022 or the beginning of 2023, you can't say right now. It's also currently the case that the pandemic has caused a lot of supply bottlenecks. Especially with cells, the price is extremely volatile. Prices have gone through the roof, and availability is an issue. And that's the case even just with the small glider components. And that's why we're planning it this way currently.
You can't say if that's how it will ultimately turn out. It's a difficult situation right now.
How does it actually fit together that someone like you, who is so focused on free flight, hike and fly, and all that, is basically on the other side...
motor glider propulsion developed?
Yes, actually, I found the aspects I learned during my studies. I did further training and specialized in lightweight construction, aircraft construction, and specifically those kinds of things. I just thought it was a very cool flight object, an aircraft. On one hand, the work environment of actually helping to shape the thing, co-designing it, developing the harness, and also testing the whole thing. I'm also a test pilot. Together with Arne Wehrlin, we're actually like two people, and Armin Harich from time to time, who are actually flying the new Evoque most of the time. That's already very cool and I like it. So it's engineering, and I mean, I am an engineer.
I am a hike and fly athlete and I enjoy running up mountains, and I still do that. But with the Evoque, you basically have the option to get into the air without running up a mountain, which is also very beneficial for rest days, recovery, and all that.
For what kind of pilot would you say the Evoque is perhaps most interesting or most suitable? For
Definitely the lowland pilots, because I mean, in the mountains we have the mountains to get into the air. In the lowlands, you have hills. I used to fly a lot at the Swabian Alb. It was usually the case that there were really beautiful clouds and cloud streets in front of the Alb edge. At the edge of the Alb, you'd have some kind of compression, like a jet effect. And there, it was usually kind of torn and undefined. And on the Alpine plateau, there were beautiful clouds again, and often you didn't even reach them.
And then you're limited, and you have the option of getting into the air via winch tow. Or with an ascent aid. Not everyone is lucky enough to live near mountains or have a flight area, a hill nearby. And they are then very dependent on driving or other things. And we simply want to make it possible for them to get into the air in their own area, and above all, to have airtime quite safely. Because I mean, ultimately you can lay the glider out in the direction of the wind, or you can start in zero wind, which is of course a bit more difficult because you have to run more. But if you have the technique, it works quite well. I had to learn that too.
And
you're just, I'd say, freer and more flexible when it comes to getting into the air.
The alternative, which is also being discussed a bit, might be having remote-controlled electric winches at some point, where you can basically do a kind of self-tow and pull yourself up, which would also be an E-ascent aid. So, only with the advantage that the motor basically stays at the bottom and you are truly the free flyer at the top when you catch a thermal and can continue flying with it. If you imagine both of those in your head, what speaks in your view for an E-Walk?
With the E-Walk, let's just say, you have it with you. Now, you have to be careful, the winch is of course attached to the car and you can leave it behind. But, to put it bluntly, you lock the car where you're transporting the E-Walk and then you start with the thing and you really go out on a route. And that offers a lot of potential. Of course, I have the motor and the batteries with me. If I still have some remaining capacity, I can theoretically use them to fly towards a road or a train station before landing, for example. Or just to compensate a bit for a strong sinking area.
So you might have a second or third chance, because it is certainly possible to find good thermals, a thermal entry, within 100 or 200 meters. And with an electric winch, you're initially tied to a local spot. Well, you can probably also control the electric winch yourself remotely. That means you're not really dependent on a helper. With the E-Walk, you do have the weight with you. That's another matter again. But the whole thing can be packed into a backpack. Yes, a short-range unit with a propeller, batteries, and motor weighs 25 kilos. That's definitely acceptable.
I think, ultimately, it's going to be a matter of personal preference.
Let's take a very brief look at your future to wrap things up.
What's next for your flying? You've already mentioned that you're currently considering whether to sign up for the XP. That would be next summer, the X-Alps 2023, which you also mentioned. That's more or less on the agenda. Will you be continuing with Hike & Fly competition for years to come?
Well, I mean, long-term—you can't do something like this forever, of course. An X-Alps is already an extreme strain on the body. At the moment, I'm still having an incredible amount of fun with it. I do it, I really enjoy doing it, and I also invest a lot of time into training and flying. And I actually have quite a few projects ahead of me in that regard. It's less about Hike & Fly competitions, but more about bivouac stories or traveling to new countries with a paraglider. Next year, I want to go to the Pamir Mountains for a bivouac trip, and then maybe do something like I did in India, where I simply combine paragliding with mountaineering and the paraglider is essentially the means to an end—like a means of transport to get to a mountain.
And I'm 31 now, and I'd say I'm still enjoying it. I'm still unattached and can still let myself go a bit in that regard. But in the long run, I definitely won't be doing this at this level forever. I'm already in talks with Skywalk about that. There are plenty of activities where I can be active even if I work more, because I'm working part-time now. Something I've also started doing a bit is giving seminars and coaching sessions with Luftikus. It's actually quite nice to be able to help other people a bit.
Having successes too, going out on routes with them, passing on knowledge. And I'm relatively broadly diversified there. Of course, I'm specialized in all things paragliding and in the long term, I definitely want to stay with that. But being an athlete is definitely limited. At some point, the body just can't take it anymore, or if you start getting minor aches and pains, it's just not healthy anymore at some point. The
Kriegel runs the X-Alps Academy in Switzerland and basically trains the next generation of Swiss High-Can-Fly. Could you imagine something like that for yourself, for Germany?
Funny enough, I also asked Robin Friest once if the DRV is considering any funding for High-Can-Fly or something like that. And my follow-up thought was, why are the Swiss or the French so good? With the Swiss, the association is simply behind it. Then there's something like the X-Alps Academy, where Kriegel personally shares and passes on his knowledge and experience, and the whole thing is already done in a very professionalized or professional way. In France, there's basically the possibility to do paragliding in boarding schools, where they're already trained in tactics and so on.
So the French are very strong in competition flying.
We don't have anything like that here. And I mean, High-Can-Fly is really booming right now. Most people probably owed it a bit to the pandemic, bought some lightweight gear, and are heading to the mountains. And there are also more and more junior pilots who are up for doing Border Races, other competitions, and maybe even dreaming of doing X-Alps at some point. I can definitely imagine doing something in that direction. Now
Tell me, what did Robin have to say about that?
He told me to reach out to him.
Okay, he didn't shut it down immediately.
That's at least something. But he did hint at how the DHV operates. And you'll probably have to do a lot of convincing first and show some initiative. And to be honest, I can definitely imagine something like that, but I'm very limited on time at the moment because I'm still putting a lot into being an athlete and, on top of that, I'm not a professional athlete, I actually work at Skywalk at 75 percent.
Okay, then let's leave that as a medium- or long-term outlook for now. Maybe at some point there will be a Hike and Fly Academy or further training offers, and so on, supported by Markus Anders.
We could just ask all the listeners: Who would be interested in something like that?
They should get in touch with you or
yeah, or just comment under the podcast. I mean, yeah,
That's true. Can we gather a few voices? So, people, if you've heard this, go ahead and leave a comment about who would be interested and how and what. Let's see what kind of ideas might come out of that. Sometimes it's just these kinds of initiatives that somehow find their way eventually by chance, because it's meant to be that something like this exists.
Markus, maybe you'll do this at some point. I'd think it would be great, but thanks for this conversation with so much background on your hike and fly career and everything you've experienced. Yeah, thanks for sharing all of that.
Yes, you're very welcome. I hope there's something interesting in there for all the listeners. That's for sure.
That was episode number 73 of Podz-Glidz, featuring a conversation between Markus Anders and Lucian Haas. In the show notes for this episode on Looglides, you can find a series of further links, including one to the E-Walk project.
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