I panicked. For the first time in my life, I actually panicked and started pumping my glider, even though I never actually do it, but I saw it in front of me, there was a power line in front of me, a tree in front of me, a power line to my left, a tree, a power line to my right, a house, and I thought if I pump more, I'll tear it off, but if I don't try to pump more, then I'll fly into the tree or the power line. So I thought, okay, then I'll try to pump a bit more, and I tried to pump a bit more and at the moment I tore it off, I knew, game over.
Podz-Glidz, the Lu-Glidz podcast.
Stories from the cosmos of paragliding.
Today with Julia
Haas and
I'm Lucian Haas.
Who is the currently most successful or high-performing German female pilot? If you look at the FAI world ranking, it's Julia Jaus. Only five years after getting her A-license, she already made it into the German national team. She is a German champion and finished fifth in the women's category at the European Championships in 2022. Such a rapid ascent isn't possible without determination and a certain amount of ambition. But above all, a large dose of general aviation madness is important. After the now 30-year-old started paragliding in 2017, flying very quickly became the dominant constant in her life and leisure planning. Recently, she spent six months in New Zealand exploring the country via hike-and-fly.
In this episode 107 of Podz-Glidz, Julia Jaus doesn't just talk about the adventures she experienced. It's also about the appeal and regret of such contrasting worlds: hike-and-fly and competition flying. Julia has already had her highs and lows in both. We talk about moments of flow and moments of fear, the love of freedom, competition versus the drive for performance, the advantage of heavier harnesses, the social component of paragliding competitions, and why you simply shouldn't fly on some days. If you enjoy Podz-Glidz, then support my work as a patron. You can find out how this is possible very easily and without any obligation on the website of my paragliding blog Lu-Glidz, specifically on the "Support" page.
Julia, can you imagine what first caught my attention about you? No. Two years ago, you published a piece in the DHV magazine called "Let it Flow." You wrote about urine solutions for women, like Shippie and Easy-Peasy and stuff like that. Do you still use that today?
Yes, of course. I'd say it really revolutionized my XC flying.
In what way?
Well, I always used diapers before. And anyone who has ever used a diaper knows that I didn't use them. They know that there's a limit and you never know exactly when that limit has been reached. That means you tend to be very conservative, and at some point, you're just unfocused because you actually want to go to the bathroom subconsciously. And yeah, with a solution like the Shippie, you can just let it run and also drink as much as you want in the morning and evening before, and enjoy your coffee completely unrestricted in the morning. And yeah, I think that's... well, you just stay focused in the
Flight. In that text, you describe a very striking situation that led you to start looking for these alternatives to diapers. What happened there? Do you still remember?
Wow, no, to be honest, I don't.
Alright, I'll just give you a quick hand. It says here that you landed next to a main road with a full winch. Oh yeah,
one step in Bassahnung.
Oh, that was so awesome. It was so horrific. Yeah, I ended up in Bassahnung and was so happy about my flight, but I had to go to the bathroom so badly and I had this full diaper and there were cars everywhere and not a single tree. And oh my god, I just packed up and I had to go to the bathroom so badly and at the same time this feeling of this full diaper. Oh my god, that was so horrific. And then I somehow walked for kilometers more until someone finally picked me up. Oh my god, I died. I really thought I was going to burst. Yeah, I thought, I have to, I have to change something. This is not an option.
And then you looked for other solutions and found a Shippie, among others. I don't think many people will be able to imagine what that is. Can you briefly describe what a Shippie is, or rather, how it works?
Exactly, I always affectionately describe it as a little blue penis to stick on. Yes, it's really just a piece of silicone, like a little blue silicone penis that you can just stick on. Yes, it's really just a piece of silicone, like a little blue silicone penis that you can just stick on. And it works, really, it works surprisingly well. It comes from the diving world and it just works surprisingly well. I think it's hard to describe. I think you just have to Google what it looks like or pull up the article. I always have one with me, a quasi-new one, to show it because so many people always ask me how I do it. But yeah, it's really super practical. It is
By the way, DHV info number 228. That article is in there, in case anyone wants to look it up. You just got back from New Zealand. You were there for six months, traveling a lot, flying a lot. Did you always have a GP solution with you there too?
Yes, I always had it with me too. For example, I always have it when I'm bivouac flying. It's not the most practical thing, because, well, if I know, for instance, that I'm flying a cross-country route and I'm not hiking in the morning—so I'm not doing a hike and fly, but taking the train—then I always stick it on in the morning. Simply because it's easier and more pleasant to do it at home in the bathroom. Or at the campsite, in the toilet. But if I'm doing a hike and fly, which is what you do all the time when bivouac flying, then—well, if you stick it on and then hike with it, it usually doesn't hold because of sweat and friction and everything. And that means when you get to the top, you first have to stick it on, and if you spray the adhesive, you have to wait ten minutes first and then stick it on, and if it doesn't work and isn't airtight, you have to do the whole thing again—stick it on again, wait ten minutes again, and then stick it on.
That's a bit annoying, to be honest, but it just works brilliantly.
Now, I sound a bit macabre, but just thinking about it—spraying, like a spray adhesive, it has to dry for ten minutes first, so you basically have to be standing out in nature somewhere, and it still has to dry?
No, I always do it first. I always get the slider out before I unpack my paraglider, spray the glue on it, then I put it down somewhere so it can dry for ten minutes. I set a timer on my watch, unpack everything, and when the ten minutes are up, I disappear into the bushes, stick it on, do a quick air test to see if the air stays in, and if it works, then I go flying. Or on record days, I have to be honest, I always do a real test—I always try it out briefly at the launch site to see if it's really airtight.
Okay, this spray adhesive goes on the slider, you don't spray it on your skin?
No, you spray it on the Schiebi. I just had...
...imagined you standing there in the landscape for ten minutes somehow, behind the bush, hoping that the stuff finally dries out.
No, but it's bad enough; there are way too many launch sites without trees, and then it's always something, yeah, it's not that easy. I think men have it a bit easier in that sense.
Well, in New Zealand, at least from the pictures I've seen, there aren't many trees on the mountains up there anyway, right?
Yes, exactly, absolutely. But the beauty of New Zealand is that when you're out somewhere, you just do it. Mostly alone, because in the mountains, you're basically remote so quickly, so you're more on your own, and that's not a problem at all. It's not like in the Alps, where a hundred people are standing at the launch site and no matter where you go, whatever corner you crawl into, people are always passing by.
So, New Zealand is primarily a wild country?
Yeah, probably not quite as wild as, say, Canada, but yeah, definitely.
What led you to it, what drove you to go to New Zealand for six months?
I actually wanted to do that back in 2020, so I quit my job at the end of 2019 and really wanted to travel, have more time to fly, and above all to travel because I had never been abroad for more than a month at a time and I felt, yeah, I felt like I had sort of missed out on that. I never took a gap year or anything, I just always worked and thought, yeah, I finally want to do this now, and my plan for New Zealand was already there because I had been to Canada before and met people who were doing Work and Travel. And for me, it was the first time it was such a big "aha" moment that it wasn't just people doing it at 18 after high school, picking fruit, but that many people over 30—especially in Canada, there are visas until 35—there were so many who already had a lot of professional experience and just did it to see, yeah, just to see something different, just to gain work experience in another country, and I thought to myself, wow, cool, that's actually exactly what I want to do.
And then I saw that New Zealand and Australia go up to 30, and Canada up to 35, so I thought, yeah, great, then I'll do the ones up to 30 first, and if I like it, I can still go to Canada. Yeah, and then unfortunately Corona got in the way and New Zealand wasn't letting anyone into the country anymore. And yeah, then last year they said New Zealand is opening its borders and I thought, yeah, great, I'll apply for my visa right away.
To there. How old are you now? 30. That means you just barely squeezed in.
Exactly, that's basically my last chance I've used.
Is New Zealand a must-go for paragliders?
Wow, no, not at all.
I mean, New Zealand is always like the dream destination for so many people, and there are such great pictures of the people doing hike and fly and all that. And now you're saying, no, no way.
So New Zealand is a beautiful country and it's also great for flying, but you really need to bring enough time because the weather in New Zealand is—yeah, I only noticed it when I was there. But if you look at the map, you can actually see it. It's just an island in the middle of the sea and for a very, very long time, there's nothing around it. And that's just how the weather is. You're basically, I'd say, at the mercy of the weather and all the ocean around you. And yeah, there's usually a lot, a lot of wind. So I'd say it's great for kitesurfing if you go there to fly and kitesurf. Or generally, a local told me, yeah, if you come to New Zealand to fly, you basically need a plan B.
Otherwise, nobody would. And I'd say that's absolutely true. I mean, you can get lucky. But if you only have three weeks, it's possible you won't fly for the entire three weeks. And that's why, if you only have a short amount of time, to be honest, I wouldn't recommend it for flying.
Well, there are these island weather patterns or typical island weather where sometimes it means, okay, there's the windward side, where it's often impossible to fly because the wind is too strong. But then you can often fly on the leeward side. That happens often in the Canary Islands too. Is there something like that in New Zealand, where you basically have the windward side and then the safe leeward side or something?
No, that's also a big learning curve. I mean, I thought, hey, I have a car, so if the weather is bad somewhere, I'll just drive toward the good weather. But in New Zealand, I'd say it's usually like this: if it's bad, it's just bad everywhere. So you could go from the South to the North Island, where the weather is usually very different. But unfortunately, you can't just drive there quickly, and the flights are also super expensive. That means it's hard. It's hard to actually get away from there when the weather is bad.
If you have good weather, rather the North or the South Island?
Both. I mean, it's super difficult. This year had such super, super special weather. Apparently, it's never happened like that before. So on the South Island, it was basically the ultimate summer. The South Island is where all the Alps are, all the mountains. The North Island is flatter, more coastal scenery. But there are also great route options in the interior of the North Island. To be honest, I totally underestimated it. But exactly, on the South Island we had a great summer. It was basically incredibly dry. January was an amazing month, so it was basically flyable all the time. It was beautiful, it was hot, it was dry, and on the North Island it was unbelievable. It was basically just rain, unbelievable flooding, super wild. But apparently, it's never happened like that before either.
That means you were really lucky with your time on the South Island, at least.
Yeah, well, I arrived in... So I was there for about a month. I spent a month on the North Island, from mid-September to mid-October, and then from November onwards, I was on the South Island. But generally, I have to say, at the beginning, the weather was really, really bad. I got wet so often. I sat there soaking wet by the car so many times with all my wet gear that wouldn't dry in the car. And I thought to myself, what the hell am I doing here?
So, at the beginning, I really, I was actually desperate at times because it was so bad and so often so bad. And so much rain. And so cold. And yeah, and I was really... I thought to myself, why didn't I bring my kite gear? Yeah, it was challenging. But when it's nice, then it's really beautiful. But yeah, when it's bad, then yeah, you have to be prepared for that.
So you didn't really have a plan B?
I didn't have much of a plan B. My plan B was actually kitesurfing. But I totally underestimated the fact that there's basically only one kitesurfing school. In all of New Zealand. And it's just not like in the Alps, where you can rent or buy stuff everywhere. That simply doesn't exist. And there aren't really any people who kitesurf either. So you're at a perfect kitesurfing spot on a perfect day, and if you're lucky, you see one kitesurfer. And you wonder, where is everyone? But there just aren't any more. Which is, of course, incredibly beautiful and incredibly great. But yeah, it also has downsides, like if you don't have your own equipment, for example.
And how is the paragliding scene organized there? Are there two or three spots where everyone actually flies? Or is it wilderness otherwise? Or what does that look like?
Exactly, there are basically spots in all the major cities for sure. And on the North Island, there are also many lowland flight areas, really cool ones. And on the South Island, it's actually in all the cities too. So in Nelson, Christchurch, Wanaka, Queenstown. And there's basically a WhatsApp group for each city. That's how they organize themselves. And yeah, and everything else is wild and pretty hard to reach. Or mostly only with long detours. Yeah.
So, as a European, do you get accepted right away? Or are New Zealanders rather reserved and like, "Who's coming from so far away and wants to fly with us?"
No, you're welcomed really warmly. I mean, they're used to it. So many people come to New Zealand. It's really a dream destination for travel. And it usually works like this: as soon as you're in the WhatsApp group and just write, hey, I'm here. I think it looks like good flying weather tomorrow. Who else would be up for it? Then other people write back immediately, hey, well,
we're not going flying tomorrow. Or yeah, sure, we're all in. And then it gets organized with lift-offs, because there are basically... there are no gondolas in New Zealand or anything. Everything is always done by car. And I thought at first, on the North Island, at the first flying area, I also wrote, yeah, hey, I'm here, I'd like to fly tomorrow. I'd do hike and fly. And the first thing that came back was nothing about hike and fly. Private property. We have to drive up. And I was like, hey, why is driving up better than hiking? But yeah, that was basically everywhere. So that hike and fly is sometimes not allowed at all, specifically on private property. And you always have to call the landowners beforehand. Or on the North Island, there were also so many airspaces where you have to call and ask for permission. So, not that easy. Not like in the Alps, where you just drive somewhere and go flying.
Difficult. I mean, difficult. Of course, there are areas, but it's difficult in many areas. And you really have to stick to the rules, because otherwise, the New Zealanders will lose their areas. That's... yeah, it's important.
That means a learning for you is that, basically, the Alps are a flight paradise, so to speak.
I have to be honest, I've traveled a lot with my paraglider now. And I have to say, after every vacation, I think to myself, the Alps are really great.
You also took part in a competition in New Zealand and took first place in the women's category right there. But you also wrote to me during the preparations saying you'd never fly a competition in New Zealand again. Why?
Yes, the New Zealand... New Zealand Nationals, I was really looking forward to that too. It's not organized by Louis, Louis Tepper. Also a, yes, so he's practically the only New Zealand competition pilot. I met him last year at the Europeans in Serbia. And I told him right away that he organizes the Nationals and that I should definitely fly with them. And then, of course, I signed up immediately. I was so happy. I thought, yeah, great, a competition in New Zealand. I'm going to be there for so long anyway. Of course, I really wanted to; I don't have any competition equipment with me, but it doesn't matter. Doesn't matter, it's more about their fun and enjoyment.
And then it was... I was in Queenstown for quite a long time, actually most of my time in New Zealand or a bit in the Queenstown area, and I met a few people there and quite a few were like, no, they're not flying with the Nationals, it's a competition and oh god. And they told me all these horror stories. And I thought, huh, that can't be... I mean, why? I couldn't imagine it at all. But I have to be honest, they were super, super events. I mean, they organized it great. But it was also... I mean, it's not a classic competition. So, there were... a few competition pilots also came from Australia and another German came too. And my buddy who visited thermals here in New Zealand, he's a competition pilot too, he was there as well. But otherwise, I'd say there were about ten of us, I'd say a bit more experienced competition pilots, and the rest were beginners with a bit of XC experience.
And that makes a competition, of course, yeah, generally a bit different. When most of them can't really fly distance yet. Then the task setting in New Zealand. Basically, if you want to fly somewhere where it's good, there are no roads. That means there's practically no retrieve. So, no retrieve was organized at all. Everyone had to organize their own retrieve. There were also no shuttles to the launch site. You had to organize that yourself too. And the flight area where we actually wanted to fly said at the last moment, we don't have permission to hold the competition there. That means we had no flight area. And we were like, okay. So, the briefing for the competition was really, hey, so, we don't have a flight area. We don't know how we're actually going to do it yet, but it's going to be great.
So it really worked out great. Okay. So we switched to other launch sites. And we flew from Queenstown for the first time, from Coronet Peak. They actually never wanted to do that because between Queenstown and Wanaka, which is the classic flight, it's about 30 kilometers. And there's no road there. Well, there's a bit of road. But not much. And there are many options for landing outside. And you have to, well, depending on what kind of competition equipment you have, or how light or heavy it is, or how fit you are, hike out for, yeah, between eight and, I don't know, 15 hours. And, well, it's a competition. And there are many beginners. And then they said, yeah, we can't really fly there because if they all land there, they won't be able to get back out until the next day. And, well, it's difficult.
It's completely different from a competition in the Alps, where everything is just so much easier and the pilot level is different. I mean, they really tried hard to make sure everyone learned something by the end of the day and had a cool competition. And they did a really, really great job. But I also have to say, we had an amazing week. I think we flew five tasks out of six days. And that's exactly why I wouldn't fly a competition again, because the days were so good. And the tasks were correspondingly small and, unfortunately, not in the really good, beautiful areas, but rather oriented towards the roads. And the best flying in New Zealand isn't by the roads. But they just can't do that during a competition. And that's why I would never fly a competition again, because we unfortunately missed out on so many good days for really great bivouac trips and missions.
Yes, and the good days in New Zealand are unfortunately very, very, very, very, very rare. And yeah, so it was a great competition and it was really fun, but I wouldn't do it again.
If you want to fly XC, like you said, you basically have to go into the remote areas. That's where it gets interesting. You're saying that. Does that mean that all XC pilots in New Zealand are basically always out there with bivy equipment, because you're always risking ending up somewhere in the middle of nowhere and really saying, hey, I can't make it out today. It's too late now and it's a 15-hour hike or whatever. Or at least the next day, maybe I can still get up the next mountain and fly out again or something. But if the weather turns, you might have to hike for 15 hours. But you always have to factor that in.
You always have to account for that, exactly. Everyone flies with bivy equipment and food for two or three days. So there are a few, of course, when you say, hey, today I definitely have to work in the morning, I can't risk it, I'd rather fly locally or just do a short flight where you can be sure, hey, this will work, then they might fly without bivy equipment sometimes. But yeah, in principle, actually everyone always flies with bivy equipment.
Would you say New Zealand is basically the hike-and-fly paradise?
Yes and no. I mean, hiking in New Zealand—hiking in New Zealand is truly beautiful and great, and it's incredible. If you like being alone in the mountains, it's unbelievable. And there are incredibly great huts in the most beautiful spots on Earth, and you're just there in these huts—they're very basic huts, there are no restaurants or anything like that. But they are beautiful huts and you're just alone in this hut with the most beautiful view in the world, and you just feel like it's your own private house in the mountains. And that is truly incredible. But hiking in New Zealand—well, it's not like in the Alps; there are a few hiking trails, but mostly there aren't any. And when there are no hiking trails, you have to imagine that the weather in New Zealand is extremely changeable. So it goes from incredibly hot and incredibly dry in the summer to incredibly stormy.
There's endless wind and it's incredibly strong. So if we have a storm warning in the Alps, I just laughed about that in New Zealand; the New Zealanders wouldn't be able to keep up with the storm warnings there. And you have to imagine, the plants are used to that. They're used to snow, storms, heat, drought, everything. And the plants are aggressive. They're tough, they're sharp, they... Yeah, like I said, hiking in shorts, your legs are completely scratched after every single hike you do. Often it's really serious bushbashing in New Zealand. So it's... partly you need for... Well, if you know in the Alps how long you need for, I don't know, 10 kilometers, 1,000 meters of elevation gain, then in New Zealand, take that time and double or triple it, because there's usually no track.
You usually have to put in a lot of work just to find the track, not lose it, and fight your way through the bush. Of course, there are some good tracks, like the big Great Walks in New Zealand. Those are practically like highways you can hike on. But otherwise, especially if you end up somewhere in the middle of nowhere where there might not be a track, yeah, that can really... that can really take a long time. So, yeah. But once you're up there, above the bush line, it's usually great. But, yeah. So it's wonderful and challenging at the same time. And you also have to think about it because you usually have to cross very, very, very, very many rivers. And, yeah, it shouldn't have rained heavily beforehand. But yeah, you're usually, yeah...
It's challenging. It's different from the Alps. Very, very different. But great.
Well, you're not the tallest person. How tall are you?
1.60m.
1.60m. How deep were you standing in those rivers when you had to cross them?
Oh, quite deep. So my... I usually had shorts on, but sometimes they'd get wet too. And sometimes it's really... yeah, sometimes it's really hard to cross rivers. You have to, yeah... So pro tip, always take the backpack to the front and always undo all the buckles, because if it sweeps you away, you'll die if the backpack is still hanging on you. And a common recommendation, if the rivers get too deep, just leave your shoes on, because you just need them to get through.
If you have a big hike-and-fly backpack with all your gear, can you still see anything if you carry it on your front?
No, I kept it on my back anyway.
So the pro tip didn't work for you. He...
didn't work for me.
Were you always out on your own for those kinds of things, or mostly with others? Or do people actually dare to do stuff like that alone?
Sometimes, sometimes. So at the beginning, I met a few locals and went out with them. And then one of my best friends from Germany came over and visited me for five weeks. And then, of course, I was out with him the whole time. We met two other Europeans, too. And then we had this cool group of four that we did a few trips with. But when they left again, I did a huge amount just on my own, because the locals all have to work. Once the peak season was over, there were hardly any tourists left who were still there and felt like doing those kinds of trips. Exactly. But yeah, I also did a lot with the locals when they didn't have to work and were free. But otherwise, I did a lot of trips alone in the end and, to be honest, I really learned to love it.
There are always people who start projects to fly the whole South Island, either from south to north or north to south. Did you ever do something like that?
No, I haven't.
Wasn't that also not planned? Or would you say that maybe it's too demanding to pull that off alone?
Well, I hadn't planned on it. I'd thought about whether I might do it, but I just wanted to, yeah, just get into the groove a bit first, understand how it works. To be honest, I had a lot of respect for the Outback at the beginning, because I was thinking, how well will I even manage it? My backpack was pretty heavy. Yeah, I just didn't know how well it would work. I had no experience. I'd never been completely in the Outback for three days and had no idea how I'd get out, so to speak. This confidence that I can do it and that I'm not that bad at navigation and, yeah, surviving in the Outback for several days—I'll just say for now that it works quite well. But generally, just gaining that experience, what it looks like, how it works, what you can trust yourself to do and what you can't,
I wanted to first, yeah, gain a bit of confidence for that.
And then I have to say, that's actually quite difficult. I admire everyone who did that, because in New Zealand, especially this year, there were often just one or two flying days, and then it wasn't flyable again for a few days. To be honest, it was more important to me to just do great, long flights on the good days, because I have to say, the long flights are... well, I just wanted to see a lot from the air. If you're flying biwak style for that long and then maybe sitting in one spot for a few days, yeah, I don't know, I didn't find that very appealing at all. Hats off to everyone who does that. I also wonder how they manage the food—whether they just eventually drive into some towns and buy more, because taking enough food for several weeks is...
Respect. I don't know how that would fit in my backpack. To be honest, I was really at the limit of my space with three days' worth of food. I might have to reorganize a bit in the future, but I have no idea how I'd manage more than three days of food. Just
too much.
Probably, yeah, maybe. No, I really didn't have much with me. That was also with dry meals and, but yeah, my harness maybe. Yeah, that could probably be optimized.
You said you focused more on the good days with the long flights. You even flew a record in New Zealand. Tell us about that.
Yes, that was really cool. That was actually my first cross-country flight from Queenstown, from Coronet Peak, and it was a record straight away. Yeah, that was really great. I arrived in Queenstown, was able to sleep in Louis's garden for a bit—so camping in his garden with my car—and I had already messaged a local hero on Instagram, Benjamin Kellett, and asked him, yeah, hey, I'm here now, I'd like to fly. How's it looking? He was also interested. Or had also been interested in meeting up, planning some flights. I had a few ideas. And then we met up first, planned the flights, and then the big day was already set. And it looked great in the forecast. Oh, sorry by the way for all my Denglisch. It's super difficult.
Sometimes I can't think of the German words anymore. I
I think I need a bit more there. Then just use the English ones, I think everyone understands them.
That's great. Exactly, and it was supposed to be a day with relatively a lot of tailwind. That means we wanted to fly one-way towards Mount Cook. Mount Cook is about 180 kilometers from Queenstown. But you enter the MBZ there, the Mandatory Broadcast Zone, where you need an Airband radio for that. And you need a license for that. So, I first tried everything to rent an Airband radio. Then I took the exam online. He also taught me how it all works, how the broadcast works, how it all works, how to radio in. And if you fly into the MBZ, you have to broadcast every five minutes, so radio in every five minutes. Because in New Zealand, there are so incredibly many helicopters and airplanes. It's really incredibly creepy when you're flying.
I mean, seriously, there are so many helicopters, oh my god. I actually thought so a few times.
There probably isn't a flame there.
No.
I had my X-Tracer with me and just hoped, I hope you see me. Yeah, in any case, I then tried—well, you also have to pass a practical exam for the Airband radio. And there are only two people in Queenstown who can give that. And I tried calling them nonstop for two days before Hammertag. Hey, I need this, please. But unfortunately, they had no time, so I couldn't do the exam. Whatever. We flew anyway. It was Hammertag. It was great. We were right at the base. We flew together super fast. I was incredibly nervous because it was my first real flight with bivouac equipment, where I thought, yeah, hey, let's try everything today. And if I land somewhere, whatever. It was incredibly cold.
I had no idea how I was going to survive the night if I landed somewhere outside, because even during the flight, it was so incredibly cold. We were freezing. But it was so beautiful. We crossed four lakes. Which is also a bit strange when you're flying in the Alps, because back home they always say you only fly over water with a life jacket.
They found it really funny, of course. Such a typical German comment. We crossed four lakes. It was really, I think it was one of the most beautiful flights of my life. It was gorgeous. It worked great. Right at the beginning, I thought I had to land. After crossing the flatlands in Wanaka, I came in so low. I had a really bad line somehow. The others came in super high. I came in super low. I was basically, I was already out of the bag. I thought, okay, I'm landing here at Hammertag. Congratulations, Julia. But then I managed to dig something out and was even able to catch up again. And it was actually, it was practically our second flight together. So I flew with Ben and Leo. I also met Leo in Europe last year. It was our second flight together. And we just flew the whole 176, I think, kilometers together.
It was really cool. It was so much fun. Yeah. When we were just before the airspace, so from the MBZ,
Yeah, I talked to the others again over the radio. They were already saying, "Hey, Julia, congrats, you've already broken the record." And I was like, "What record?" The Women's Open Distance record. I was like, "Aha, okay, fine by me."
But now there's airspace here, what should we do? And then they radioed me, yeah, so if we fly together within one nautical mile, I think, or two—so about two kilometers—it's not a problem if only one of us has the airwind radio. But then they also said, Julia, honestly, now with the record, they'd actually recommend that I don't fly into it. And then I thought, yeah, cool, challenge accepted. That's actually even more fun. Somehow it woke up my ambition after I don't know how many hours I'd already been in the air, and I thought, cool, now I'll just fly around the airspace in the flatlands. And then I just flew around it. But unfortunately, the seabreezes came from the east. And then basically every thermal circle would have pushed me into the airspace. And that's when I landed. And the others flew a bit further.
But yeah, it was really great. And then I first looked and thought, oh, 260 kilometers of tramping back, well, here we go. But tramping two cars in New Zealand is so incredibly easy because there's usually just one single road. And if you're standing somewhere in the middle of nowhere, people will stop immediately because they think, what the hell is she doing? She's never getting out of here.
And what does hitchhiking 260 kilometers mean? How long does that take in New Zealand? How long does it take in New Zealand for something like that? I think it was four hours.
Yeah, four hours, three, four hours, yeah. Four hours, I think, yeah.
And then you were back and could celebrate your record. What does a record like that mean to you?
Not really, to be honest.
No, really. I found it actually really weird because it felt like everyone knew me. And everyone was like, oh, you're the one who did the flight. And yeah, that was actually a bit uncomfortable, to be honest. I mean, it was cool. Sure, I was happy. But, I don't know. Some people are a bit... some people don't really think it's that great. I mean, yeah. It's always a bit of a mixed bag because, sure, some people are just happy for someone else, but some people are like, wow, we've been trying to get better for years and fly further routes and explore the New Zealand backcountry, and then a few Europeans come along and just fly all these flights directly even though they've never been here before.
Some people aren't that happy about it, I think.
When you fly routes like that, you tell yourself it doesn't mean anything and all that, but somehow you're still a bit performance-oriented, I'd say.
Yeah, I have to admit that too.
You've achieved it in a relatively short time; you're flying now, you're in your sixth year of flying, and you've already made it to the German national team. How did that happen?
Well, I'd say it's also rather luck that I'm a woman. If I were a man, I wouldn't be there yet. And I'm told that regularly as well.
Does that bother you, or do you just take it as, well, another one of those stupid sexist remarks? Like, you're only here because you're a woman.
Yeah, what can you say? But it's true. It's true. But it sparks my ambition. I want to actually earn it, you know?
But still, how did you manage to get there? How did you go from being a beginner in 2017 to becoming a competition pilot? Was that actually a goal from the very beginning, like, hey, I want to fly competitions? Or how did you get into that?
Well, I actually started paragliding because I thought of it as a way to help with descents; I love hiking, but I hate walking downhill. So I started paragliding. When I learned during my A-license that you can also fly long distances with it, it completely changed everything for me. And then I thought, once I got my license, there was no more hike and fly, it was all about airtime, airtime, airtime. There was nothing better for me than being in the air. And I tried to fly as much as possible. I was really seized by total ambition, total motivation. Flying was truly the best, the most beautiful, the most fascinating thing I've ever done in my life, by far. Why? I don't know. I just thought it was great. It completely turned my life upside down.
After getting my A-license, I was back home, sitting in my home office and in the office. I spent the whole time looking at the photos and videos from the training and from that week. I almost had like a little depression because it was over again. I couldn't wait for the next time I could get back into the air. I'd never had that before.
Meaning, before that, you'd already done completely different sports, but paragliding is the only one that really blew your mind like that.
Exactly. When I started working, I thought, now I finally have the money to do everything I've always wanted to do. Then I did a baptismal certificate. I started kitesurfing. I traveled a ton and did everything. It was super nice and I did a lot of hiking. I felt like I tried everything. But it was always like, for example with hiking, if I went hiking for a few days in a row, I'd know, okay, that's enough for a few weeks again. But with paragliding, it was never enough. It was always, I want to go along.
Does that still hold true today? Or do you sometimes find yourself in a situation where you say, "Today is enough"?
Yes, unfortunately. I never imagined it would ever be like this. But yeah, that intense initial motivation eventually fades away, unfortunately. I have to say, it's almost a shame. But yeah, I'm not that flight-obsessed anymore. But in the end, that's actually very good because I have more time for other hobbies now, more time for, for non-pilot friends too. And it's good. I mean, it's good to have enough.
Let's take another look at your competition career. Tell me about your first competition. How did you even get into that?
So, I actually really wanted to fly the Newcomer Challenge at some point. I met a few people at the DHV youth event. One of my best friends, who was also in New Zealand, kept telling me, "Wow, Julia, you should fly the Newcomer Challenge. It's great, you learn so much." And I thought, yeah, that would be awesome. Anyway, we were at a hut in the mountains and none of us had any signal. Only Michi, my buddy, had reception. So we all signed up for the Newcomer Challenge on his phone. And I didn't get tricked. Then he made a joke out of it and signed me up for a real competition, the Icarus Open. And he was like, "Yeah, Julia, I just signed you up for a competition." And I was like, "Yeah, yeah, sure." I didn't believe him at all. And then somehow, four months later, I get an email. "Yes, you have a spot in the competition."
Please pay the registration fee. And then I call him. You really did sign me up for a competition. And he's like, yeah, yeah, sure. And I'm like, yeah, okay. Then I'll transfer the money now. You just have to tell me how it works. Then I'll transfer it now and I'll fly there with you. Exactly, and the Newcomer -Challenge was unfortunately cancelled because of bad weather. And then the Icarus was actually my first competition. And that was, yeah, very exciting. There were so many pilots. I felt like I didn't know anyone except Michi. And, yeah, the first task, I was really proud of that too. I mean, I was in the goal. I didn't see any other pilots except in the starting area. And after that, everyone was gone. But I made it to the goal. I was super proud until everyone told me, yeah, Julia, the task was stopped.
Why? Did it rain anywhere on the course?
Yeah, I don't know either. Yeah, it rained somewhere, yeah. And you had the rain
missed because you were actually too slow.
Probably, yeah. And then I thought to myself, oh god, well. And then for the next few days, yeah, that was also great. I even ended up on the podium in the end. Third lady. Third lady, yay, cool. It was also really a lot of fun. But I thought to myself, no, I mean, that's not for me. I mean, I'm paying money just to fly around alone anyway and then sit at the launch site the whole time waiting around. And no, I mean, it was a nice experience now. But no, that's not for me.
But you did it again anyway. Are you always being disloyal to yourself?
No, I didn't do that anymore. I didn't fly any more competitions. Only the Newcomer Challenge. The Newcomer Challenge, because I can only recommend that to anyone who likes flying distance and wants to improve. I mean, you learn so incredibly much at a Newcomer Challenge. It's such a great event. Really, I can recommend it to everyone.
And no, after the Newcomer Challenge, I didn't actually fly any more competitions. I just wanted to fly XC myself. So when I was at a competition, it was just for fun again.
But otherwise, no, I hadn't flown in any competition anymore. But then I got a bit better at XC flying. And then a lot of friends wrote to me, Julia, why don't you do the competition flying again? And apply for the league and get into the league. And I was like, yeah, but why? And then he said, yeah, we're there. And you can go to cool competitions with us. And then I thought about it again. And then I actually applied for a wildcard for the league. And I got it too. And I thought to myself, okay, now I'll give the whole competition flying thing another chance and try it out for one more season. And then it was suddenly completely different than my first Icarus Open. And it suddenly worked really well. And even though I only had a C glider, so a small C glider, just the Alpina XS, it actually worked really well.
So, obviously, I wasn't flying at the front, of course. But I always managed to land somewhere in the middle of the competition. Like, yeah, I'd say in the front bit, up until the last third.
What kind of C-glider is not so bad. At least, that's what I thought. And then I also had some good successes in the sports class or in the women's class sometimes. Even with other Enzos in the women's class. And yeah, it was just super fun. I met more and more people. And what's really addictive about competition flying is actually the community. Because at every competition you meet more people. And you see each other again and again. And the league is actually like a big family that goes on certain shared holidays. At least, that's how it feels to me. And then suddenly you know everyone. And then it's suddenly flying with friends. And that's what I love the most, to be honest. And what's almost never possible with XC flying is because you stand together on the mountain and you want to fly together, but in the end, you know how it is.
Then everyone starts at a different time. Because for one person it's still too early, for the other it's already too late. And as for the waiting, well, most people can't handle that either. Then one person makes a mistake, the other doesn't. And in the end, you fly your route alone anyway. But what's actually the beauty of flying together—and competition flying is, for me, simply flying with friends. Everyone starts together, everyone flies together. And then you make a mistake and catch up again. And then you shout at each other in the thermals. And you're so happy to see the others again. And eventually, you just know each other in the air. And that is just incredibly great. And everything before and after is more of a social event, to be honest. And it's just so much fun. And even when we don't fly, we always have such great alternative programs.
We're just such a cool young group. And we all have similar interests. And yeah, we just have the best time. And we learn so much together there. And that's just great. But it's also a lot of fun.
That's certainly true too. You say you're learning an enormous amount. But you were relatively successful from the start. Are you a natural talent at it too?
No, not at all. No, oh my god. I think everyone still laughs about how long it took me to fly my first 100er. No, I was just always super motivated. But I already felt like it had somehow taken a long time. I did a lot of trial and error, I think. And I also did a lot of walking. So, a lot of landing and walking.
But I've always asked a lot of questions and done a lot of analyzing and planning, especially. I mean, I'm such a little planning junkie. I love XC route planning. Oh my god. I've missed... I missed the winter because that's normally my big winter activity. Or one of my many winter activities. Well, I think I was just super lucky, met so many great people. And learned from them. So, for example, also with the DHV -Jugend. Also for all pilots up to 28. My absolute recommendation. You just meet people your age, in your region, who are just as motivated to fly. And with the DHV -Jugend, I met so many experienced pilots. Or I mean, experienced, but experienced like I was back then with my ass here. I just asked them all the questions. Or also events, like I was with my ass here at the Nova XC Team Challenge.
And that's where I first learned about XC points and XC kilometers. Before that, I'd never even heard of them. And that's where I learned, hey, you can plan routes. There are tools for that.
Yes, and events like that and exchanging ideas with the right people. I think that's how you really get better quickly. But I don't think that I
have a talent. Is there anything that puts you off from competitions?
Oh yeah, everything.
Everything, to be honest. I mean, you're kind of
you're a bit schizophrenic, it almost feels like that. I know. On one hand, you praise it to the skies, saying you can learn so much, and then on the other, you're scared off by everything.
Yeah, a lot. I mean, it's so expensive, really. Oh my god, I spend so much money on competitions and sometimes I really wonder why. So much waiting. Oh my god, we wait so much on the good days. You usually only fly for a super short time then, even though you could actually fly for much longer. But of course, you fly much faster, which is also nice. But you wait so much. But there's so much waiting that it can really be annoying. But like I said, we make the best of it. That's why the waiting is also nice. You can always make the best of it. Waiting with friends. Waiting with friends, exactly. Or sometimes you're in areas where the weather is just bad, while in other areas, they're flying 200 kilometers. Then you sometimes think to yourself, what am I actually doing here?
And the ambition. Well, there are so many who are a bit too ambitious. And for those people... I have to be honest, I just can't understand that at all, because it's simply about nothing. We're flying for virtual points. We can't buy anything with those. So I understand that for some, it might be a bit of a calling card because they work in the paragliding sector. And they want to say, hey, I'm Top X. Top pilot. I get that. But for everyone else... It's just for fun, isn't it?
Some people have this ambition, like an unhealthy ambition. And then they get in a bad mood if they somehow... if they fall behind or if things aren't going well. And I mean, sometimes things just don't go that way. And I can't make myself an exception. Of course, I'm not happy when things go badly either. But the main reason I do it is because it's just incredibly fun. Racing with friends. And because we have the best time. And because you can get better. But whether I perform great in the end or not, my goodness, that's secondary.
You also wrote to me that in competition flying, you experienced something like a flow for the first time.
Oh yes, that's true. That's the best thing about competition flying. Why
does that happen in competition flying and not so much in normal flying?
If I knew that, Lucien, if I knew that, I would immediately remember that I have that during XC flying. Yes, that's the crazy thing. That's something I've never experienced. I've never been in a flow in my life before I started flying. And during competition flying, I don't know, I'm so intensely focused on the others and on the task and on the flying and on the clouds and where it rises best and on the terrain where I'm landing, and I think to myself, wow, that was just five minutes, but it was three hours. And sometimes I can't really remember what actually happened anymore. It just... it just happened. And during XC flying, I think more about my life.
What I actually still need to go shopping for.
Yeah, and there, I don't know, it's just, I don't know, with XC flying, I don't really have that.
Would you say that this flow state is something to strive for? Especially when you say that, in the end, it was maybe only five minutes of flying, I don't even know, and I can't even remember what I actually saw.
It's a completely different kind of flying. I mean, it's not this—it's also super stressful. Especially at the beginning during the start, it was like that. I don't know how it is for the other competition pilots, but for me, it's the most stressful thing there is. It's so exhausting to be looking all the time, noticing all the paragliders at your altitude, one level above and one level below, and keeping them all in your sights at all times. A, to avoid a collision, and B, to see where it's best to climb and hopefully somehow climb past them. And meanwhile, still dodging a few that are cutting you off. Yeah, it's so exhausting. That's why, when we fly a task like that, it feels like we're doing nothing all day.
We drive up the mountain, then we wait for hours, then we fly a task, and then we're on the ground waiting for the results and cooking something to eat. And we're all exhausted, even though we didn't actually do anything. It's just so incredibly mentally taxing. But sorry, I've actually forgotten your question now. It
was was about flow and stuff. The
Flow, whether it's worth it. Yes, I definitely think so. It's the best feeling I've ever had. I think it's wonderful. It feels incredibly great when you're in that state of just 1000% concentration and nothing else matters. It doesn't matter what happened yesterday or what's happening tomorrow. It doesn't matter what you deserve or what problems you're currently having on the ground. Whatever doubts, fears, or worries you have. It's all completely irrelevant. Only the moment counts and you're completely focused. And I think that's pretty great. But yeah, of course, it's different. It's not like XC flying, where I take so much time just to enjoy the landscape or fly a detour just because I find it beautiful there.
Or just taking your foot off the gas to take photos, which I do non-stop when XC flying. And when I'm competition flying, I don't take photos or videos. Anything. There's no time for that.
If you were facing a decision right now and knew you could fly a super great task today because the weather allows for it, or you could go on a super great cross-country flight, would you choose the competition for the sake of the flow experience?
Tough question. A really tough question. The first time I chose against a task was in New Zealand, specifically against the very first task of the Nationals. Because that was a hammer day and I knew how rare those hammer days are. And I knew that the task would probably only be, I don't know, a 100-kilometer task. And I knew it was a day to fly 200 kilometers or maybe even more. And then I thought to myself, screw the competition. I want to fly XC. I'm here to discover New Zealand. And to be honest, competition flying doesn't really matter to me. And it was the best decision ever. But otherwise, I've actually never done it.
But I think here in the Alps, it's more like, yeah, the task is just fun. I enjoy flying it. And I mean, I live here. If a good day comes again, I can fly again. But if it's a real hammer day, then I might go fly XC. Because, yeah, hammer days are very, very rare. And yeah, there are still a few big flights I'd like to do. And yeah, they might be worth more than a competition task.
Well, you're a German champion in the national team. I believe you're the best German in the world ranking now and all that. Does that mean you feel something like pressure or an obligation to say, hey, I maybe should still fly these competitions so focused that I actually say, okay, I'm not skipping a task just because it's so beautiful today. Instead, I have to get my points so that I can stay at the front. Or is this ambition not that pronounced for you? And are you just where you are now by chance?
Well, I have to be honest. I have to say, I do have expectations. I definitely feel a lot of expectations and also a kind of pressure. But I've felt that for a while now. And I have to say, I find that really uncomfortable. Because actually, flying should just be something that—or I mean, that's just my hobby. I don't earn any money from it, so I feel like it shouldn't actually have anything to do with that, or shouldn't be linked to pressure or anything like that. But it is somehow like that, I have to admit honestly. I've had so many moments in the last few years where I just felt uncomfortable, and now it's reached a point where I just don't have any fun anymore, not even after ten minutes, and I just go to land.
And then I think, "Yeah, it doesn't matter," as if anyone would care. But in the end, 20 people message me asking what happened today. And others flew this far and I didn't. So something must have been wrong. And I think, yeah, my pressure to perform doesn't seem to be coming from nowhere. Apparently, there really are some expectations. But it's difficult. I find it somehow hard to free myself from that. But anyway, that's probably a completely different topic. Is it that important to me? Yeah, I don't know. Sure, in a way it is important, because you want to get better somehow. And I put a lot of time into flying. And somehow, you probably want to have some kind of positive outcome from putting so much time into it.
But no, to be honest, I feel like it just happened that way.
It's not like I had this as some huge goal. I just enjoy what I do. And if I didn't enjoy it anymore, I wouldn't do it anymore.
Probably the best recipe for everything is to have fun with it.
At the same time, if you're having fun while flying. I'd say a lot of people say they have fun while flying at times. But many people also feel anxious at times. It's always sort of that story. Is that also an issue for you, that you sometimes feel anxious while flying, or are you so driven by fun that you don't even notice it?
I have so much fear. I have such an incredible amount of fear. And everyone always says, Julia, I don't believe you. I really have so much fear, it's unbelievable. I had a bad landing experience two years ago. And since then, I've sometimes had real problems flying over unlandable areas. And that's a really intense anxiety issue.
What do you mean by a bad landing experience?
It was at the German Championships the year before last. And that was one of those days where you actually should have decided not to fly right from the start. I didn't sleep during the night. I don't know why. I couldn't get any food down in the morning. I was just feeling super, super weird. I don't know, just really unfocused. I was in the air then too. It was somehow a 100-kilometer task. The conditions were super weak. Half of the field was already washed out right at the start. The leader's pole was already long gone. I kept scraping along and fighting my way up for ages. And I was super unfocused. It was a super slow day. I was somehow fighting from ridge to ridge. I didn't really get high anywhere.
Everything was great in low flight over so much unlandable territory. And I really fought my way through. And by then I was already over this small town. We were in Libikothermes, by the way. If you know it, you've flown there before. It was over a small town with a candy. And I thought, okay, I don't want to land there either. I tried everything not to land. I kept flying on. It was like, I don't know, already 5.5 hours in the air. I knew, wow, there's no way I'm making the goal. So slow. And then I reached this steep slope. There were four Enzos there. And then I joined them. I sorted around with the four Enzos. I looked at my phone and saw, yeah, okay. Nothing's happening today. I just want to glide down to Libiko now. Because the retrieve buses are there, I read.
In the WhatsApp group. And I can back up there. Fits perfectly. And then I sorted it out with the Enzos. Then I tried to gain a little bit of altitude. I looked at my check. Yeah, okay, simple. Just glide down to Libiko. Looks good. Then that one Enzo just took off. I thought, yeah, good, we're not gaining any height anyway. I'll just fly after him. And then we flew around the corner. And there was this high plateau. And I thought, oh, okay. I didn't see that on my map. But, yeah, it's going to be tight to get over there. But the Enzo, he was ahead of me, he made it over. I thought, yeah, good. Sometimes you just lift over it. Just, just before the thing. I thought, yeah, maybe it'll work. I'm a bit higher than him. Maybe it'll work. And then I flew towards it. And it didn't work. And then, well, no problem. Looked at it from the other side. Oh, shit. You can't land here at all.
I was so focused on Libiko and gliding and my own thing that I didn't think about landing options at all. And then I looked down and saw, okay, here, landing option A, B, C. Good, I'll try them all out now. Landing option A. Ah, power line. Landing option B. Ah, power line. Landing option C. Ah, that looks great. Great, yeah. Nice field. I'll approach it from behind. Perfect. Where the wind is coming from is a bit unclear in this weird thing, but it's fine. Okay, it's fine. Yeah, I can approach it nicely from behind. And then I'm about to approach this field from behind, and then I notice, okay, there's a cable here too. And then I think, okay, no problem. I'll just fly past it and veer off a bit. And there's a cable there too. Another cable. Another cable. And then I really panicked.
And normally, I don't panic. Normally, especially in critical situations, I get super calm. Everything slows down. And I think and make good decisions. But not that day. That day, everything was just shit. Because, as I said, no sleep, no food, unfocused. I panicked. For the first time in my life, I really panicked. And I started pumping my glider. Even though I actually never do that. So I started pumping my glider. Pumping it down. But I saw in front of me, in front of me, a power line. In front of me, a tree. To my left, a power line, a tree. To my right, a power line, a house. And I thought, if I pump more, I'll tear it off. But if I don't try to pump more, then I'll fly into the tree. Or into the power line. So I thought, okay, then I'll try to pump a bit more.
And then he tried to pump a bit more. The moment I ripped it off, I knew, game over. That was stupid. And then I really went out—I honestly can't estimate it, out, I don't know, 5 to 10 meters, I guess, just crashed onto the ground. Right on my back, where on my short gear there's basically no protector. I was lucky I had the really, really big packstack in there, I think. That at least filtered it out a bit. But the impact was so hard. My first thought was, game over. You screwed up. Now it's over. You screwed up. It's just over. And then the first thing I tried was to move everything. Thank God I could move everything. But I had really strong pain in my sternum. Thank God not in my back. But I still thought, okay, not cool, not cool.
And the others had all landed a long time ago. Either because they were much faster, much slower, or had already crashed. They called me right away. Hey Julia, did you land okay? It looks a bit weird. And I was like, I don't know if I landed okay. And I thought, for now, just wait until the adrenaline wears off. And until you know what's going on. We also helped two Italians. They gathered up my glider. I just got off for safety's sake. I thought, I'd rather stay lying down and not get up. And I just waited a bit and talked to them on the phone. And I was like, yeah, I don't know exactly. It hurts a bit. But I don't know if it's serious. I don't dare get up. Exactly, then they called the ambulance.
And at some point they decided to just call a heli. The heli actually came, but it couldn't land there because of all the cables. So, exactly, they drove me part of the way in the ambulance. And then they flew the rest to the hospital by heli. They checked me over once. Thankfully, everything was fine. They said maybe my sternum is broken, maybe not. You can't really see that in X-rays. Yeah, concussion. But otherwise tip-top, I can walk. In Germany, they probably would never have discharged me. But in Italy, I was discharged in the middle of the night. Great, I was driven back. I got up super early the next morning. Sorted out all my gear. Borrowed another helmet because I took a real header on mine. I thought, that helmet is probably not in great shape anymore.
Yeah, they checked my stuff. Look, yeah, everything looks good. And I was driven up to the launch site. I couldn't even carry my own backpack because my sternum really hurt incredibly. But yeah, then my friends carried it for me. And my goal was really just a safe launch, a safe landing, because I knew if I didn't do that, I'd get such a mental block that I'd never go flying again. And then at the launch site, my friends helped me, lifted me up once in the harness to see if I had any pain in the harness. But everything went well. We also tried to talk everyone at the launch site into thinking that maybe I shouldn't fly. But the only thing I wanted was really to start and land once. But yeah, once I was in the air, it felt so good that I thought, yeah, maybe I'll fly a bit of the task with them, and I actually flew the whole thing with them. But yeah, I just really wanted to fly.
With a broken sternum.
Fractured, maybe fractured, you never know.
You still don't know either.
No, I even went back to the doctor because after the competition, I could barely get out of bed for like a week. I was in so much pain, I was basically just lying in bed for a week. And then I went to the doctor again. And they took X-rays again. Great. Because they didn't get the ones from Italy, for whatever reason. But they also said, yeah, maybe it's fractured, maybe not, no idea. Based on my symptoms, they'd say, yeah, but you just can't really see it. And you can't really do anything based on that. I'm just supposed to keep going.
Even though you went back flying right away, did you end up questioning flying in retrospect? Because you already realized, hey, I mean, that was probably a lot of luck in a bad situation. Like, a huge amount of luck in a bad situation. It could have ended completely differently. Or there just had to be one stupid little stone lying in the wrong place. Exactly. And it breaks your back or something else?
I know. It was so much luck. No, for God's sake. Sure, I questioned it a lot. Not as much as after, like, another experience. But I have to be honest, my first thing, my first thought was actually, no, I just want to, I have to train now. I have to practice more. I need more training. I have to, I have to practice more stumbles. I have to, I have to practice landing more. I just have to train more. That was actually my first thought, and then I went straight to training.
Would you say that the spot where you came down would have been a reasonable place to land with more training? Or was it actually so unlandable that if you don't land in the tree and maybe hang there somewhat safely—in a stupid spot, but you're safe—that otherwise you would have basically just slammed into something somewhere?
I think I could have landed there normally, without tearing my glider off, if I hadn't been in such bad shape. So, if it had been a normal day, I don't think I would have had any problem landing there. But yeah, in hindsight, I might have just chosen the tree too.
Did you take any other learnings from that? Besides saying, okay, I would've taken the tree, B, I should train more?
What I definitely learned is that when I feel that bad, I just shouldn't fly anymore. On one day, I felt really bad. I simply shouldn't have flown. That was, that's one of the biggest learnings. When I really feel bad, then just don't go flying. It's not worth it to do it for fun. And on that day, I definitely didn't have any fun flying. I was just pushing through it. And I also have to say, I was in this competition mode a bit, where you just don't think about landing. You also have to say, in competition, you often fly over unlandable areas, but in competition mode, it's also kind of like, you block that out a bit. And I think I started blocking out a bit too much, thinking about the landing. I completely stopped doing that again. So, I'm always thinking about the landing again now. And while you fly worse with that, I don't care.
I'm always thinking about the landing again now. And no matter where I'm flying, I'm always like, okay, what would be an option here? Okay, no matter how high I am, I'm always looking, okay, where am I? Where would the next option be? What does it look like?
All the time. That's definitely what I learned from it.
And what did you do for training?
Or as training? I went out for a lot of stalls again.
I had an Alpiner. I don't think I had ever stalled it before at that point. I'm not... Well, I think I had never stalled it. Exactly, then I just stalled it a ton. Yes, also to really be able to know the stall point by heart—to see how far I can go? How does the glider react to all the extreme flight maneuvers? Exactly, I also learned heli with the Alpiner. And just tried to get more glider control. I think the more maneuvers you fly, the more you train, that's always good. So, especially when you do it with your main glider.
That means one way to deal with fear and situations like that is either you can leave it alone, or you dive in even more and just train even more.
Yeah. That's how you did it.
That's how I did it.
There's one topic I'd like to go over with you. We already mentioned that you're relatively small, 1.60 m. You don't weigh that much either. Because of that, you probably always fly very small gliders. But now you're doing competition. And they always say that small gliders have a disadvantage in competition. How do you deal with that?
Yes, definitely. I mean, if you've looked at a comparison between an Alpina XS and an Alpina ML, the difference is insane. The large glider performs so much better. It's unbelievable. But if you look at the competition gliders, like a Ceno S versus a Ceno ML, the difference isn't that big anymore. That's why I have a competition glider now. I have the Ceno 2. It goes up to 90 kg. I have a competition harness now and I just load on a lot of ballast and fly it. At about 86 kg. And it flies beautifully. Much better than any light glider with a light harness.
How much ballast do you take with you on top of that?
So, my gear weighs 8 kg plus two rescuers at 2 kg each. So 12 kg. Plus, I have three liters of water in my pack. 15 kg plus still about three to six liters of water at the bottom.
Yes. And
do you still haul that up to the launch site as well?
Yeah.
Yeah, exactly. You don't have to carry as much during competition. But yeah, the ground handling, the backpack, it's definitely a bit annoying. But to be honest, it's absolutely worth it. I bought my competition equipment last year and for me, it was a bit of an experiment, like, do I like this? Is it worth the effort? Because I actually already love high and fly and I never really wanted to have more than one set of gear. Now I have three.
And I just wanted to give myself a season to try swapping it out. To see if it's worth it, because what goes along with it, of course, is a lot more costs, also just if you're constantly taking the gondola, because you want to stay up to date with your competition glider. That means you end up taking the lift more often instead of just walking. And yeah, it's a lot of hauling. But I have to be honest, it's so worth it. It's so much more fun in the air. It's just a completely different flying feeling. And that, well, maybe for all the light pilots, is a groundbreaking experience; I only bought my competition harness and then tested it in Bassano last April. And the conditions were absolutely disgusting. So for me, it was a south wind, it was a north foehn, it was
beautiful clear air and a high base, so it was gorgeous, but it was disgusting in the air. I mean, I found it really disgusting. And I had that all the time anyway; I fly with my friends, and of course they all fly
MLL gliders and I'm always like, wow, so today it was really gross again, right? And they're always like, no, totally okay. But I always thought to myself, okay, maybe I'm just sensitive, I don't know, girls, whatever. Obviously, I have a different feeling about it. I found it disgusting, and one day I just completely gave up because it was so gross. I just didn't feel like struggling through it anymore. And on that same day, I just went back up again, but with my competition harness and a glider, same class—so not the same glider, but I took that one too. Just a glider one size bigger, so not up to 70 kilos, but up to 80 kilos maximum takeoff weight with the competition harness. And suddenly, the conditions were quite pleasant. Suddenly it stops twitching all the time and it's just so much calmer and nicer.
And that was really the biggest realization for me, how much that one glider size makes all of a difference on its own. And of course, the difference between a competition harness and a light harness. It's so pleasant. It's beautiful, honestly. So, anyone who feels uncomfortable because of that, I can only recommend that you go to your choice of flight school, rent a heavy harness, and just give it a try. It's truly groundbreaking. It's annoying on the ground, but in the air, it's a dream.
Would you say it's more the glider or is it more the harness that gives you that extra sense of calm? The harness. The classic harnesses, so the competition harnesses, are always built very stably, including the suspension and all that. On
In any case, the harness, yes.
Would you also fly a larger harness with your smaller glider?
Yeah, well, I don't have a very small glider anymore. I mean, before that, I had the Alpina up to 70 kilos; that was my dream glider because I could just... then I can always fly at the top, and it's so nice when you can finally fly a glider at the top. You finally feel something, you have control pressure, it's amazing. But now I have a Zeolite and it's great, it goes up to 85 in the smallest size and that was super, especially since I mainly bought it from New Zealand for bivouac flying, because otherwise I would have always been overloaded with the Alpina. And I really wanted to fly two lines now, even in winter, just to get a bit ready for the season. And with the bivouac equipment, it also fit. I'm still too light, but it works.
I'm completely exhausted right now.
Julia,
We're also slowly coming to the end. You definitely flew very beautifully in New Zealand with your Zeolite and the corresponding weight that came from the hike-and-fly gear. What have you seen as your next goals now, to slowly wrap things up? What have you set out to do? Or did you not actually set out to do anything at all, but you're registered for a lot of competitions and just let things come at you?
My goals are definitely more bivouac flying and less competition flying, because I realized in New Zealand that's actually what gives me the most fun. But of course, to highlight my schizophrenic nature, I also hope that I can actually go to the World Championships. That would be a crazy dream. That's at the end of May or something, right? Yeah, exactly.
So, just flying with all my role models together, that would be the ultimate. Now, there's the Trofeo Montegrappa, which I've been dreaming of flying in for a long time too. But other than that, to be honest, my goals are definitely just flying safely, having fun, and doing more bivouac flying.
More bivouac flying. Very nice. And based on the experience you've gathered over the years now—if you look back at how you flew in your first year or first two years compared to the experience you have now—what tip would you give yourself to maybe make getting started or those first years of flying a bit easier?
That's a tough question.
Actually, I think I did quite well. I could have maybe gone flying a bit more, especially at the beginning. But otherwise, I think especially finding like-minded people—someone his age, with his motivation, from his area, who you can just go flying with—that's just gold. And if you're also interested in cross-country flying, just exchanging ideas with pilots who are already doing it and just asking questions, staying in touch with them, just to figure out what the good days even are? Because at the beginning, you don't know that yourself. For me, at the start, it was more of a coincidence. We just always drove to the mountain whenever we had time. And then we flew, and it was more of a coincidence that it went well.
But we couldn't really predict the weather, like actual cross-country flight weather. So definitely my tip is to get more involved with the weather and just ask a lot of people. Just be open, ask. Don't be afraid to ask. And yeah, just go flying with them, find motivated people, and just have fun.
Which do you find to be the most interesting question you can ask a pilot?
Whether he's afraid or how he deals with his fear or mental problems when flying, especially after bad experiences.
Is there not enough talk about that?
I do think so, yes.
And how could you achieve a change in the scene then? Through a shift in mindset?
I think it will help if
...you share bad experiences or your learnings on social media, that you don't get torn apart. Because I mean, what's happening right now isn't a culture of, hey, thanks for sharing, that was brave. Thanks, now we can all learn from that. Instead, it's usually like, what kind of bad pilot are you? Give up your license. So I feel like the way people handle that could really change. But I think what we're doing here—well, that's also not—I mean, I think it's great, for example. The accident analysis we do with the DHV, I find it incredibly valuable. Something like that almost doesn't exist in other countries, for example, if I look at New Zealand now. And I think you can learn an extreme amount from that, too. Just to avoid making the same mistakes.
But yeah, I think there should be much more done with it. For example, with the experience of the tandem pilots at Geisberg. I would also wish for more of a, hey, how could that happen? What were the pilots actually thinking? Why did they still take off? Yeah, I mean, we can all learn from that. I mean, we're all only human. We all make mistakes. Unfortunately, something can just always happen. But if we can at least contribute to making sure others don't make the same mistake, I would think that would be really great.
The tandem situation at Geisberg. Just to clarify a bit. There was a bad weather front approaching, and then some tandem pilots took off just before—almost like a cold air outflow from a nearby rain shower—arrived. And they just got caught in that outflow. And they landed in the trees and other places. And after that, of course, there were many discussions. Couldn't they have seen that coming, and so on? In the meantime, I think they've even been charged. Or there's a proceeding against them for possible bodily injury and whatever else you can do. And it's already an interesting story. But also something where you can say, yeah, you can very quickly get to the point where you just blame people for making mistakes. And the other thing is looking at it and saying, okay, sure they made a mistake, but am I really immune to making such mistakes myself?
And how often have I taken off just before a nearby rain shower because I thought it might still work? And in 95 percent of cases, it usually still goes well. And then you think at the end, yeah, that still works. Meanwhile, the probability that it can still go really shitty is still correspondingly high. And talking openly about that is certainly a good goal.
Julia, I'm glad I got to talk to you like this. And thank you for your honesty, for your perspective, and for the liveliness with which you tell all of this. I wish you many more great experiences and lots of success. Who knows what will come of it with your relaxed approach, whether at the World Championships or something else. I definitely wish you a lot of that. Because, well, success isn't even the main thing. Well, of course I wish you that too. But above all, I hope you get to the point where you say, "Hey, I'm getting into the flow and having these really amazing experiences." And probably, once you get there, the results that speak for themselves will maybe just come automatically at the end.
Thank you, dear Lucian, for having me.
You're very welcome.
That was Podz-Glidz episode 107 with Julia Jaus. In the show notes on the Gleitschirm-Blog Lu-Glidz, you can find further links to some of the topics discussed. Podz-Glidz is the podcast of the Gleitschirm-Blog Lu-Glidz. My name is Lucian Haas. I am the producer of both offerings. If you enjoyed the episode and would like to hear more episodes of Podz-Glidz, then help out by becoming a supporter of my work. One euro per podcast episode and two euros per reading month on Lu-Glidz. That is my "shameless" suggestion. It's less than a beer or a coffee. But even small amounts, when added up, contribute a significant part to me being able to continue running and developing this project in the future.
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Until next time. Ciao. Ciao.