Everyone has a gut feeling and intuition, but we don't really train them properly. We grow up in school where you always have to think, calculate, and be able to justify everything. We also have so much data available now—even from the air—where you can access wind speeds and forecasts on your phone, and you always have numbers, always something in black and white. That just prevents you from listening to your gut. Because it would be stupid if you see it's windier and think, "How good would it be if I kept flying there?" but then maybe five minutes later, when I'm actually there, the wind is gone, or there are signs where you can clearly see it's doable—and that's more important than the black-and-white number. If pilots learn to listen to their intuition more and the facts less, they'll have more opportunities, especially in the sport of paragliding.
Podz-Glidz, the Lu-Glidz podcast. Stories from the cosmos of paragliding. Today with...
Chrigel Maurer from Switzerland.
And I'm Lucian Haas. Kriegel Maurer is probably the best-known Gleitschirm-Blog in the world. For eight times in a row, the 41-year-old has already won the Red Bull X-Alps adventure race across the Alps. In the scene, he is the undisputed king of Hike 'n 'Fly and a living legend. Who wouldn't love to fly like... like Kriegel, who was given the admiring nickname Kriegel the Eagle, the Eagle of Adelboden, years ago? But as much as others try to copy his style, they never quite manage to match him in the end. Every time the conditions get a bit tricky, Kriegel makes a practically proverbial magic move and pulls away.
This also has to do with his approach to aviation. Kriegel is someone who basically thinks everything through. But when flying, he usually follows his gut feeling, because it guides him better and more safely through the skies. Intuition can be trained, Kriegel says in this 114th episode of Podz-Glidz. We talk about, among other things, the influence of dreams, his handling of fear and risk, how purposefulness promotes luck, and how passing on knowledge helps him become even better.
If you enjoy Podz-Glidz, then please support my work as a patron. You can find out how easy it is on my Gleitschirm-Blog Lu-Glidz, specifically on the support page.
Kriegel, good morning. This is the earliest podcast recording I've ever done. It's just after seven. Do you always get up this early?
Yes, actually I can. I've been up for a while now and I have my efficient time in the morning. So in that regard, I'm glad you also took the time.
In the summer, I also always wake up very early. At that time, no podcasts or anything like that. Can you remember a dream from last night?
No, last night was pretty dreamless. It might also have to do with the fact that I don't have anything big planned for the near future. Sure, the tour is kind of the main thing—and home turf. But I actually dream more intensely when I have really exciting things ahead of me. And yeah, it's just sometimes more and sometimes less.
You dream before big tasks. What do you dream about then?
Yes, I think the whole process, the possibilities of how it could turn out, especially the best-case scenario. Although I also have terrible dreams again and again where I crash and what would happen if I were awake. I wake up before it gets bad. Yes, like I believe many people do.
When you wake up after a dream like that, do you dream it? No, you don't dream it, you think about it? Do you carry it through to the end? So you were basically in the dream just about to crash, and now you're thinking of the solution, how you could have saved yourself? So is that also something, like a dream, that leads you to maybe even fly better in real life?
No, I think it's the other way around. If I dream of the optimal scenario and wake up and then imagine how efficient that is, then it's actually good. The negative thoughts or negative dreams won't continue. The negative thoughts won't be processed any further.
Regarding a dream like that—if you say you're dreaming of an optimal scenario, say, for example, you're out in the X-Alps or something. Do you actually dream a flight as it is, or do you just dream a situation where you say, I'm getting to some key point and now I'm dreaming up a solution? Or how am I supposed to imagine something like that?
Yeah, that's hard to explain because it's also very different and not really consciously controllable. But there are always moments or places where I can make a difference, where things are particularly great, and they somehow stay in your head until you wake up. There have also been times when the solution to the puzzle—you know, at some key point in my head—sticks with me until I experience it, and then it's even more special when I'm in the air or racing and realize, I've been there before.
That solution you have in your dream—is there an example where you'd say it was really exactly like in the dream, and you already knew in the dream what you were actually going to do during the flight?
The most striking instance was actually quite early in 2003, when I was able to win the World Cup in Italy. That was my first victory, and I can actually remember quite well that I woke up in the morning and knew I was going to win the World Cup today. I just didn't know how, but I had dreamed it and somehow felt that it could come true. It was never that extreme again, but there was still this feeling where I thought, "Yeah, this feels familiar" or "I've seen this somewhere before in a dream." When that feeling comes up, it also gives me a sense of peace because I think, "Yeah, it was positive in the dream," and maybe that's why I have that calm and coolness.
It's just about executing it the way it was optimal in the dream.
What is it like during the X-Alps when you're getting so little sleep and all that? Do you still dream there too?
Yeah, with X-Alps, falling asleep is actually the intense dreaming time, because you're tired, you're starting to settle down, but you're also restless and full of thoughts about the day and what happened. And I try to... imagine what's coming the next day, because by focusing on what's coming, I can disconnect from what happened, since I can't change what happened anyway. That doesn't actually help me in that sense, but consciously thinking about the next thing—the morning routine for heading out, then the first climb, the first flight, combined with possible weather forecasts. And these thoughts actually help me fall asleep better in a positive way.
And depending on... And depending on that, you also keep dreaming. And yeah, it's there, sometimes more, sometimes less, I can't really control it that precisely, but with the thought of what's coming, the whole thing is actually already positive.
What about daydreaming? Have you ever experienced something like that? Or that you hike long distances and then your brain enters this kind of mode, where it's in a sort of trance and you... and suddenly, in a certain way, images or ideas start popping in there? The kind that are almost dreamlike?
Well, I can relate to that a bit from driving, when I'm on long trips and then somehow think, "Yeah, I've already passed that" or something. When you drive in your thoughts for a certain amount of time, it makes you forget everything else. I don't have that when I'm flying. Actually, when I'm flying, I'm present every second. And yeah, in that sense, a bit.
...unlike on the ground. Do you also have recurring dreams where you say, like, a theme... yeah, I always win or whatever it is.
Yeah, in a way, yes, but the details are always different. There isn't something that builds up every time.
And like a classic nightmare that keeps coming back?
Yes, exactly. All the suffering is gone and I've forgotten the savior.
That's happened a few times.
That's the scary side of flying. In what way, or does it even happen, that you yourself get really scared while flying?
Yeah, there have been times when the situation seems uncontrollable or when certain circumstances come together, like strong wind combined with thunderstorm outflow. When you know there's a Föhn wind, but you think you'll manage, and then there's still more wind or more energy in the air than expected. It's always like that. In predictable situations, I already feel helpless, and you need that sense of ease and coolness to act flexibly. And when you have a clear plan, like in a race where you actually want to go from A to B, and then you have to deviate from that plan for safety, that takes a brief moment where you feel a bit of fear until you have a plan again, until your head is clear again.
How can I proceed so that it becomes safe again, and I can definitely relate to that.
How do you deal with those anxious moments? Do you have any routines, any techniques, like breathing or whatever, where you say, "I'll use this" to basically get out of the fear and clear your head again?
Personally, I don't really have any techniques, and I've never felt the need to acquire any. For these situations, I always try to prepare a plan A, B, C, and so on. And if plan A doesn't work or that feeling of losing control comes up, I have plans B and C, which might not be as efficient anymore, but are still safe. And that actually gives me the peace of mind to act quickly and also get back to a level where I'm having fun and not just... having concerns, yeah.
After the last X-Alps, Maxime Pinot talked about a moment where he was really scared. Apparently, he was in a north wind, a valley sank and then accelerated fully, and he was still flying backwards and had to find a landing field and stuff like that. Do you know those kinds of moments? Have you ever experienced something like that?
Yeah, I was in that valley too. Were you flying backwards as well? I was also flying backwards, up and down. So, it was clear there was a north wind, that was... that was clearly unflyable and the conditions were very intense. I was lucky to be there a bit earlier. I think I still had more sun and thermals too, and the slopes were washing out, but there was still warm air somewhere in the valley. So, after that... I imagine myself as a balloonist who just has to go with the wind, and I go with the wind until thermals come up again.
To be able to turn. I also studied the landing field. But at some point it became clear that it definitely wasn't the safest place to land in the valley. And I just wanted to go up, and the thermals or rotors, whatever was there, then lifted me back up. And yeah, to your question, for me it was already at the limit, but there was still a certain amount of confidence and efficiency. So we had a north wind. We were heading east. So somehow, it still works out.
And yeah, you just have to make sure that you stay up there, that you keep the glider open. It's a bit like being in a small boat on high seas with big waves. You just need a bit of thrust to ride the wave cleanly, then surf the wave again, and then keep looking for ways to move forward without capsizing. I felt a bit like that, and that image also gave me a bit of calm. And I knew... I knew that it was possible, I'm swimming, and it will keep going. But it certainly wasn't great. It certainly wasn't pleasant, and far from being fun. I also had quite a bit of shoulder and arm pain the next day because I'd never had such a sporty flight over such a long period. It was over seven hours of paragliding. And it wasn't just some valley where it was a bit turbulent.
That means, from an outside perspective, when you look at something like that, you think, "People are actually going into the air." It's an incredibly big risk to fly in conditions like those, where you just said it's actually unflyable. But you flew for seven hours and ended up with a bit of shoulder pain because you had to work so hard. From your point of view, how much of a risk are the X-Alps, and why do you take such a risk?
Yeah, that's a good question. And I rarely ask myself that, because I actually focus on the positives. So, what does the X-Alps give me? And all the preparation helps me grow as a person and as a pilot, because I train specifically. I do so much so that on day X, after these weeks of racing, I have more skills and also more possibilities. In that sense, the race actually gives me the focus and motivation to keep developing. During the race itself, it's already like jumping into the water somewhere up high and then riding the plane. And then you get washed down by the plane. So you get in somewhere in Kitzbühel and the water was still calm and beautiful and everything was great.
And then in Nordwind in Italy, you're somewhere close to the waterfall and have to figure out how to make it through safely. And knowing exactly when you actually have to get out of the river before it gets too extreme—that is extremely difficult for us, for all athletes, to recognize.
But we also see videos of people kayaking down rivers where we think from the outside, yeah, if they hit that, they don't stand a chance. And yet they keep doing it and it looks like they're still having fun. And I think it's the same for us—if we're well-prepared and have the focus, we have gliders that are simple for our conditions or controllable gliders, like we usually fly. And that gives you a good feeling accordingly. And if whitewater comes along, we still have that certain reserve. But where exactly the limit is and ultimately what it's worth, you don't think about that anymore because you're in the water and you just have to make sure you come out okay.
During the live tracking this year, there was a situation where you and Maxim were on the flight around Mont Blanc. Paul Tackert had already landed or something like that. And I just turned on the rain radar because I saw there were shower cells everywhere. And it looked like you and Maxim were really flying right in the middle of a shower or on the edge of one. And like you said, that's certainly not nice air. And I don't know if you can still calculate something like that meteorologically, to say it won't develop so quickly that I'll end up right in the middle of a shower. Is it still really the case that you say, well, I have to keep going, I'll let myself be carried by the flow. Then I'll just let myself be pushed by the cold air outflow or whatever?
In practice, it's usually a matter of looking at it visually. I actually never look at weather radar or precipitation radar, I just look visually. And the situation in Chamonix was difficult because there was a lot of shadow, and there was also wind. The showers weren't really a problem for us yet. For the people following behind, the showers were an issue—I could see visually that showers were coming down behind us. In front of us, it was actually always nice. And we never really had rain; towards St. Bernard, it was very cloudy. There was some light drizzle for a bit, but not really showers. But I know that depending on the cloud, the radar can show a lot where nothing is actually coming down yet. On the other hand, there are situations where a lot is coming down and the radar doesn't pick it up.
And you don't see anything on the radar either. It's just very different. But it certainly wasn't just nice and easy. It was really difficult there. And yeah, we were able to... we had to rebuild the ball hang. Maxim got off and flew away from me there. And then I was able to climb higher again and then keep taking shortcuts and making progress. So it was already quite exciting. And with the wind, it wasn't quite as easy as it might have looked from the outside on the lift tagging.
Are there ever situations in these kinds of races where you're up in the air with others? It's disgusting, if I may put it that way. And you find yourself wishing, hey, you other person, Maxim or whoever it is right now, just go land, then I can land too. So that you don't think, I have to keep flying because the other person is still flying. So that you don't push each other forward like lemmings when you're actually already at your limit and thinking, I'd be perfectly fine if you just landed, because then we'd both maybe be on the ground and we'd both be safe.
Yeah, I can relate to that. But the thoughts don't really come because we want to keep flying. Because for me, the other thought is often, I'm not alone here, there's someone else. And if Maxim is there, for example, or Patrick von Kennel, then I have no stress at all. Then I think, they've got it under control too. But if someone is there who I think might not have it completely under control, then I have more stress, because I think if I keep flying now, then he actually has to because of me and might have a problem. But he's an adult himself and has to decide for himself. You can't take others into consideration there. But I do have those thoughts.
The flying you guys do is extreme flying. You have to be able to handle strong winds, land in all sorts of places, and take off from all kinds of spots. That requires an enormous amount of training.
Now, you could say, yeah, you can fly a lot and train like that, but you could also train very systematically. When you do endurance training, you usually have a coach, a training plan, you follow specific procedures, or you even have a coach telling you what to do, when, and how, so that you can build muscle and all that. How do you train flying systematically? Or do you train it systematically at all, or do you have it in such a way that you just say, I'm just going out flying and the training happens on its own?
Yes, I'm aware that if I want to do everything possible during a competition, because it's also situationally important, then I have to do that, I have to know that well beforehand. With endurance training, the training actually has two aspects. One is getting fit, which is the obvious part. But for me, what's much more important is that I learn what I can do with my gear. So I know which sock, with which sole, in which shoe will fit me over several hours, and at what number of kilometers it simply makes sense to change shoes, even if they are still so good. And those are empirical values, and these empirical values are actually the main effect of training, because once you have them, then you just have it normal during the competition, let me put it that way.
And I often make a comparison to driving a car. When we Swiss people drive in Germany, we get stressed because it's just so fast. And when Germans drive in Switzerland, they think, "It's super slow," because they're normally used to driving faster. It's just a matter of getting used to it. What can you do with your car, at what speed? And for me, it's important to think that way when flying too—not just grab a car, go to Germany, and just fly down without thinking, because that's actually quite simple. But the feeling and how you have to behave is something else. I'm actually lucky that from a young age I've always asked myself, "Is this possible?" And sometimes they couldn't tell me everything, or the instructors couldn't answer everything for me.
Not even the flight instructor. And I just tried it myself. And that trial and error somehow stuck with me. And that's also this specific training where I just think, can I land in this forest direction or not? And if I didn't know, I tried it. To be honest, I was very lucky in my younger years that nothing happened to me. The material could only be patched up a bit on a few lines. That worked. But I just learned a lot. And that's during takeoff, where you think about it beforehand and then comes the point of no return, where it has to go well. During landing, it's more the opposite. It has to turn out well. I practiced a lot in the snow too, just with a bit of double safety.
Or on a thin pilot in the sand, you can also push the limits a bit. Or G-force training is a good example, where you simply learn your own load, learn to know it, and know what happens when you can't see anything anymore, that you could still rescue, activate. Those are the approaches. And for me, it's still the specific training, especially top landings, speed landings. It's extremely important that you practice that constantly, because this feeling of assessing and executing—you lose that. I'd say it's like cycling, you don't unlearn that. So you don't unlearn paragliding. But how you have to behave so that you can land cleanly, and also thermals flying and finding lines.
It's all about feeling, where you have to practice intensively to get back to the highest level so that in a competition you don't have to overthink it, but simply feel whether it's going to work or not.
Do you also create a kind of flight training plan before a season, where you say, for example, for at least three weeks on weekends I want to do top landing training or something like that?
For endurance training, I have a very precise plan and I have help with that, and for flying, I actually do too, but not quite in as much detail. I just say that during the winter months I fly less, I fly more acro, and then in the spring it's thermals again—so, two months before Thermik-Alps, I wanted to fly as many hours as possible, and I also included all the specific training in that, including ground handling, just to get back into shape. And I already have to make sure, after 25 years of flying, that I don't fly extremely much, because I lose some of the joy then, and I always set myself good goals. So, I'll think about it in the morning, like "with this forecast, that could be a good goal," and then I can tackle it as a challenge, and that gives me the focus and motivation.
But just going out to fly for the sake of it, that doesn't really work anymore.
You need some kind of challenge.
Challenge. And a goal, exactly, that provides the focus. And I think that's also exciting and provides safety, because just flying—I can do that in the evening with friends and enjoy it—but actually having a focus, having a goal, that's what provides safety for me.
Many private pilots just fly for the sake of it. I mean, many don't fly that much, but then at some point they head to the mountains and say, "Now I'm going flying again," and just fly around a bit. But because they do it so little and perhaps not very systematically, they don't develop further. From your perspective, is that actually the wrong approach to flying?
I'd say, basically, everyone should fly in whatever way works for them. But if you consider that every pilot's starting point is their training—and if you think about how you approach that in terms of intensity, putting in the effort, learning the theory, and so on—it's usually the case that after getting the license, the focus drops off. You often hear things like, "Now I'm allowed to fly. I've made it," and so on. And that's when the difficult period begins, because you actually have to fly even more. You have to put in more effort to get good. You have to set new goals, just like you did during your training,
that you keep your focus there and don't actually let up. So, I see that as the first step. And for me personally, that was the competition phase. I wanted to learn to fly better in competition. That means more efficiently. But I quickly realized that the strategies of the top pilots also bring safety. So I can fly more safely too. And this view that you fly more dangerously in competition because you take more risks—that's actually not true. So, it always depends on your own goal setting. And I think that with experience over the years, you actually gain more skill and, because of that, actually more safety.
But you also push your own goals higher. You want to achieve this or do this flight, and these tasks or goals then bring risk again. So my view is that you always take a similar level of risk, but with the more or less effort to develop further and learn, you can then control that ratio.
What do you mean by always taking similar risks? Are you saying a novice pilot usually flies in conditions that aren't that risky for their skill level, and then you fly in the Alps with a lot of Foehn and all that, and you're saying it's still within a manageable risk for you?
Exactly, a beginner doing their first flight has a very safe glider, they have supervision, they definitely have safe weather, they just have no know-how and no skill. And I have good skill, but I also have a more difficult glider, I have more difficult goals. I fly in almost all conditions, and that actually makes it difficult again, where my skills are actually challenged. And I think, in total, you stay at the same risk. And the risk, how much you risk, is also a matter of character for every person in my view. Some people basically risk more and don't see it as a problem, and others risk less and see it as a high risk.
But basically, paragliding is just dangerous because once you take off, you can crash after two seconds and be actually wrecked. And you don't have to sweep that under the rug or justify to others that it's safe, but rather say, yes, you have to accept it as a risk-based activity and strive to be able to compensate for it.
When I see you fly like that, even in difficult situations, a lot of it—well, it looks like you actually always know exactly what you're doing. How much of that would you say you still decide with your head in that moment, and how much is really just gut feeling, intuition?
Yes, I think it's a tough percentage question, maybe 90 percent intuition and I still think about a little bit, but I'm thinking that the thinking happens beforehand. And in the air, it's usually your gut that relies on experience and lets you make the decision.
Can you train your gut feeling, your intuition?
Definitely, yes. And I find it super interesting, especially when I offer coaching. When I'm out with people or at courses, I think every human has a gut feeling and intuition, but we don't really train it properly. We grow up in school where you always have to think and calculate and be able to justify everything. And we also have so much data available now—even from the air, you can access wind values or forecasts with your phone. You always have numbers, you always have something black and white, and that just prevents you from listening to your gut. Because it would be stupid if you see there's more wind and think, "How good would it be if I kept flying right now?"
But maybe five minutes later, when I'm there, the wind is gone or there are signs where you can clearly see that it's doable. And that's just more important than the black-and-white number. And I find this topic extremely exciting. And I find this topic extremely exciting. And if pilots learn to listen to their intuition more and less to the facts, they have more possibilities, especially in gliding sports.
Do you think pilots 20 years ago learned to fly more intuitively than pilots today? Simply because you have so much more technology available today. Today, for example, you can pull up a rain radar during the flight. You say, I'm looking, I see it's not raining. But the radar shows that it is somehow raining there. Maybe it's raining in the cloud, but nothing is coming out at the bottom. So I keep flying. And the other guy says, I'm not flying there because my rain radar says I'm not flying there. Or he looks at it and sees the wind values are such and such, so I'm not doing this and that. Or he sees a weather forecast three days in advance and says, then I'm not going to the Alps now. And in the past, you didn't have that. And then you went to the Alps and said, let's see what's possible. And then something always worked. And then you got more out of it anyway.
So, are we losing the art of good flying because of technology?
I'd say yes, you've put that very well, the examples. Because you can just see that over time. And I experienced it like this: I started paragliding at 16. And I was in training to become a Maurer. And I just always had time in the evening and on weekends. And I just wanted to fly as much as possible. And I actually never looked at forecasts or planned, because I mostly just went for it. I only wanted to fly when I had the time. And if the weather was bad, then maybe I did more ground handling or studied some theory somehow, and I just invested time into paragliding. Then in 2012, I became self-employed. There, I actually always wanted to fly in good weather and work in the office in bad weather.
And that actually led to me being frustrated often, because I'd be sitting in the office in good weather and on the mountain in bad weather. Because the forecasts still have certain trends that I don't have a handle on. And I eventually realized and recognized for myself that it's actually the wrong direction if you try to plan everything as well as possible, because it's so flexible. And if you plan time to dedicate to the sport, you usually find something you can still use. And something you can use for yourself to keep progressing. But of course, if you want to do long-distance flights, then you need the forecasts, then you need the planning.
And you can't try it every single day. So you have to pick out the best ones. And that's also possible on the other hand if you understand the forecast well and put effort into thermals forecasts. Then you have an advantage. You can already see that. And that's why I see both sides. But it's like you say. Maybe you have to find a compromise. And we also have to learn to filter the flood of data and simply learn what is useful from the data and what you have to take with a bit of caution.
Do you still practice flying without instruments sometimes? Like, saying "I'm going to do a thermal flight now, but I'll turn my vario off"?
Yes, I often fly without a variometer on the tandem. I actually have the view that when you're low and on the mountain, you can see it relatively well. You can feel it relatively well too. And when I'm high up, well, I'm already up there, so it matters less. But in competition, when every meter really counts, I do like having that sense of knowing what's going on based on the variometer.
Let's talk a bit more about flight technique, or rather, what does "technique" mean?
Flight knowledge and also flight intuition. I've always noticed—I only ever observe it from a distance, but when you look at how you make your line choices, for example, during the X-Alps, where you can follow that very precisely in the live tracking—I noticed it during another one, not this X-Alps, but you flew in a valley and, for example, switched valley sides very frequently. I can't tell you exactly where it was, but it was just noticeable; normally, you'd always say, yeah, a normal pilot will always fly on one valley side and stay there because it keeps hitting the valley. The jump, basically, is to get to the other side. But you flew this valley lengthwise, were once on the north side and then back on the south side, and then a bit later you switched back to the north side and stuff like that, and you think, why is he doing that?
And every time, you're taking the risk of a valley jump. How do you read the valleys to decide, "I have to go to the other side now, it's better there"? And then, "No, I have to go back to the other side now because it's better there." Because from the track, it was actually always like this that you were able to maintain your altitude, and people say the decision probably wasn't wrong. But for a normal-thinking pilot, you'd first say, "Why is he doing that?"
Yes, that's a very simple principle: I'm in a certain location and the question is always, what can I do with my range, meaning with my glide ratio? It's larger with a tailwind, smaller with a headwind. What can I do there, and where is the next possible thermal, the ridge, or the hotspot—in which area could there be thermals again? And that's thought out and planned on a very local scale. And if, on a straight route in the valley, the next ten kilometers on the north side are in the shade or the wind is extremely strong, then I consider whether it might make sense for the valley crossing to be the better option.
And I think about it, like there are plans, so Plan A, B, C. If Plan A doesn't work, then Plan B, and otherwise Plan C. And somewhere a landing field must be visible or an emergency landing must be possible. And on the other hand, I also think about the percentage chance, how likely is it to work. Both in terms of efficiency, but also in terms of safety. And regarding safety, I always want it to be very high. So it has to be somewhere around 99 percent. 100 is never, but somewhere very high. And with efficiency, yeah, if it's 50-50, then I know
Sometimes I don't either. Then sometimes I just do whatever I feel like. But if it's 51-49, then it's clear; I'll switch sides of the valley because I see better chances of making progress.
You just said that it's actually 90 percent gut feeling and 10 percent thinking with which you fly. Are these percentage estimates you just gave your 10 percent? And what do the other 90 percent do on days like these?
Yes, it's quite interesting—if I were doing an interview with you while flying, for example, during X-Alps, and you asked me, "What are you doing now?" I could tell you something, but then I might do something else three seconds later. Because my gut decides on the other thing. I can't tell you at that moment, but maybe five minutes later I can tell you why I just did that. And with these X-Alps, we tried to better convey via social media what I'm thinking, or the thoughts or plans. And Elisa Deutschmann actually packaged that very well in the stories. We actually wanted to show what the thoughts are like during the race.
And I knew exactly that it's a bit of a style thing, because my thoughts often aren't worth much, since in the end, it's the gut that decides.
The weather changes so fast. My state of mind changes. My reasoning turns out to be wrong more often than not. And at some point, I just throw it all out the window and my gut decides based on whatever it feels like at the moment. And sometimes I think it's a bit eerie, when I'm thinking about something, especially with the strong wind. Or I think about what's going to happen to me. I often think of more negative things. And then my gut pushes me and says, yeah, it worked before and it's always better right now, and full throttle is fine too. It's extremely difficult for me to reconcile those thoughts and that feeling and say, this is exactly right.
Are there situations where your gut decided something, where your body just flew with what your gut was saying, and where you say in hindsight, it worked, but I know I couldn't explain to you five minutes later why I made that decision?
Yeah, that happens extremely often. One of the most well-known examples was in X-Hubs 21, when we were in Wallis on our way back east. It was day 8, a Sunday, and Maxim overtook me. I was slightly annoyed and frustrated. Then I went to Brig and we thought a lot about the weather. I even brought in some outside help, and we just didn't know whether the south side or the north side was better for the route into Engadin, towards Piz Palü. Actually, the theory and the weather were clear: you have to go south via the Simplon, and that's what Maxim ended up doing too.
And somehow, I stayed north anyway. And looking back, I think it was because I don't know the south that well—I'd never heard that it flies well in the morning in the Domodossola, Centovalli area. I just knew that in Fiesch, this Goms, Wallis, I know that place, it usually starts early, then the passes come up and are a bit of a key point, especially since the south wind was forecast to be strong, but I thought south wind is a crosswind, so maybe I can still soar. I went back and forth a lot and I didn't really have it consciously in my head as to why I was doing this now, but the next morning I was just at the launch site and thought, yeah, why exactly am I here right now?
And I think that was clearly a gut decision, considering the French in the south were going over the Simplon Pass and everyone was doubting me. That morning it was a bit difficult because so many people were asking and questioning whether I'd stay north with that strong south wind.
How much of it is not just gut feeling with a lot of experience, but also luck coming into play in cases like these?
In hindsight, it's always a lot of luck, but I think you also have to try to give luck a chance. That's the approach Thomas Törje and I have—that if you have two options, you might have to choose the one where you think, "If I'm lucky, it'll be really good," and not just the decent, well-behaved, and theoretically safer one. Because if you're lucky and it's efficient, you're a good step ahead. So, for example, in this case with Mix 21, I was consciously aware that if I can't fly into Engadin later because of the strong south wind, I'll lose an extreme amount to the others, and I also activated the Nightpass so that I could potentially migrate south over the passes during the night and try to keep the damage to the others within limits.
and knowing you have the Nightpass and that option, and that it could work out well, I was then more relaxed and could just fly freely, and in the end, it just looked like I was very lucky.
Of your eight Alps wins, is there any one where you'd say it was really down to luck and not skill? Skill was always there, but where would you say that, in the end, the actual victory was just lucky?
Yeah, the first one—I think the first time in 2009, we were really lucky, every day, several times a day, because it was just, it was a huge adventure for us, we didn't know how it worked, we rarely knew where we were because the whole route was new to us, we had paper maps, no GPS, we had little communication because the mobile network wasn't that good yet, so there was a lot, including small bits of luck, for example, I lost my phone on the first day in the forest in Berchtesgaden because the Velcro didn't hold, and then I realized at the launch site, my phone is gone, I need my phone for the live tracking transmission, so no one can see where I am, and then I started and flew and then saw two athletes hiking down on the road, I landed with them and with their phones I then called my supporter, Thomas, and Thomas said something like, yeah, I found my phone.
and I'm like, yeah, how did you find my phone? And he says, yeah, someone looked at who I called last and it was him, and then he called and said, I found a phone here, do you still need it? And then Thomas drove there and picked it up, so that's an example of what happened several times, and it was actually just luck that it ultimately made it all the way to Monaco.
If you hadn't had, let's say, this lucky victory, would you have stuck with the X-Alps? I can imagine that if you have such a success right at the first time, you start and then win something like that, you'd say, oh, I definitely want even more of that now, there's something in it. Would it have perhaps gone completely differently if those X-Alps hadn't been so successful, the first ones? Would you have stuck with hike and fly and stuff like that? Back then, you weren't as well-trained or anything like you are today.
That's a good question. I remember that after the X-Alps, I always doubted whether I'd do it again. Because the preparation is so intense and then the race is very hard, physically exhausting. And for several days, actually weeks, I just didn't feel like hiking or flying anymore. And yet, a year later, I applied again. And I think the reason was always that I thought I could improve. I can train, I can experience a lot. We experience so much during the race itself. And those are the reasons that motivate me. And ultimately, I function more in the sense that I want the experience and not the rank. In terms of ranking, we actually should have said, yeah, it can't get any better. And we don't have to do that again.
But it's the experience during the preparation and the race that motivates me to participate again and again and to grow from it.
What does success mean to you?
I think success is when you're excited about something and you're able to make it happen. So, if you have something in your head, a dream, and then you try as much as possible to understand it during the preparation and can then execute it. And in the end, everyone says it was just luck. I think that's success.
Is there something like a greatest success of your career that you personally categorize as such, even if it might have also been your biggest moment of luck or something like that?
Personally, I'd just say that I've been flying for 25 years now. And I had an accident once, with a broken foot. But that was actually more like bad luck than a professional risk. The fact that I'm still healthy and can still push myself fully at 40 years old and take on such big adventures, that's the biggest success for me. Because ultimately, when you're a bit handicapped—and many people have a handicap somewhere and then can't do it anymore—and I can look back now and say, over 14 years, 8 times Alps. I was fit to start every single time. Sometimes a bit sidelined because of illness. But overall, I was able to start and then stay healthy and invest myself fully.
That's not something to take for granted. And from my perspective, that's the biggest success.
Were there ever moments when you felt tired of your success?
Yeah, yeah. I keep thinking, okay, that's enough for now.
Ultimately.
Yeah, I think so too. I'm a bit too extreme, too focused. Always, always more, more. But I'm also so hungry for experiences. And with the mountain battles, with the projects, I have that certain sense of anticipation and can look forward to it and then give it my all. But yeah, ultimately, I'm already thinking again about what could be coming up for next year, what I could do. And right now, after the X-Alps, I'm already a bit empty. And the planning is then more difficult. But I rely a bit on my knowledge that if I do a bit less now, the desire will come back eventually and the good ideas will come back too. And that helps me plan for next year.
You just said you're about to start—I think the Eiger tour starts on Wednesday. Today is Monday. If you say you're a bit drained after an X-Alps like that, how do you motivate yourself for a race like this, where you then say, "Hmm, okay, the race is starting," and you just switch gears and are immediately back at 100%?
Yes, actually, it is.
The main approach is actually that I'm not physically exhausted. And after this X-Alps, that was actually ideal because I could do a lot of vertical meters without destroying myself. And the other thing in my head is the experience. The Eiger Tour is right on my doorstep. And this concept of visiting these huts, the technical side—like top landings and tactics—I actually think it's one of the most brilliant competitions. And it just comes naturally for me to get motivated for that. It's just a game for you, maybe? Yes, it's actually like being allowed to do even more than maybe an X-Alps. It's also shorter and more manageable. It's right on my doorstep. And also
I've experienced so much there every time, and the weather was always different, even back home. And it looks very windy again now. It looks like it's going to be really difficult to decide whether you can fly or have to hike. Maybe like at the X-Alps in the Dolomites.
And yeah, it's not easy. And that's exactly what makes it exciting. So, I'm really looking forward to seeing what the strong wind means on Wednesday—I mean, the forecast predicts strong wind. What does that mean exactly in combination with the task we get? Well, we don't know that yet. That won't come until tomorrow. And that motivates me fundamentally, exactly.
When you see something like that, strong winds coming—that's actually something you'd say you can handle. I've proven that many times before, and I train for it constantly. So, are these actually conditions that work in my favor? The chances are relatively good that I could win a race like that again. Do you sometimes think, "Ah, this is good weather," or do you actually get annoyed—I mean, good weather for your success? Or do you say, "No, I'd actually much prefer super great flying weather, which is more straightforward, because I have more fun flying then?"
Well, it's clearly the second one, because thinking that the conditions favor me is wrong, because I'm stressed then too and I'm at my limit, and I also know that if something happens, it's not great for me either. I'd much prefer simple weather, nice weather, so that I can actually enjoy it and then try to achieve efficiency in tactics and strategy, rather than just hammering away at it until it works. But yeah, ultimately, it all counts. You always have to accept the weather as it is. That might be an advantage in the back of my mind, because I know that even if it's difficult with the wind, I can accept it better than perhaps others who are generally a bit more inhibited.
If the weather is now so windy and "Kriegel-like," so to speak, where people say, "Oh, with these weather conditions, the Kriegel has very good chances," are there other weather conditions where you would say there are other pilots who might have an advantage over you in such weather?
Yes, basically. There are young pilots now who are faster at climbing the mountain, so if it's stable and just gliding down, they are clearly at an advantage.
But there are also weak conditions, like when it's humid and stuff, then I don't climb as well, so they have the advantage there. So technically, in terms of climbing, I'm not that strong. Where does that come from? Yeah, I've been asking myself that for years.
What's also funny is that I actually climb relatively well with the competition glider in competition, but with the less stretched glider, I climb a bit worse. I'm also relatively light at the moment on the glider I have right now because I'm in between sizes. Maybe that's not ideal either. But I can't say exactly, it's just not my strength. I can, as I said, fly fast, I'm still comfortable in high winds, that's definitely the strength.
When you sometimes look at tracks at X-Alps or the Dolomiti Superfly and stuff like that, there were often these little situations where you flew together with Patrick Haenel, for example. And then you both turn up and somehow you can see that Patrick really climbs better than you or climbs a bit further than you, and things like that. Is there ever a time where you say, "Hey Patrick, tell me your trick" or "Look at what I'm not doing well there. What are you doing differently than me?" Do you guys talk about stuff like that? Or is that not even a topic anymore?
Yes, that's always a topic. I mean, we're always looking at who's good at what. And we have the certainty that in the World Cup, 120 pilots fly, 80 of them fly the same glider with the same weight, and yet the same few always climb better when it comes down to it. And on the other hand, the same eight always fly faster in the final approach than the others. And that's also limited by the roles, so you can't really rebuild anything or cheat. And yet, the pilot's ability is what's decisive, and it's always the same people, so it's not some wild back and forth. And these are those feeling-based things that I mentioned earlier with cycling. You don't unlearn it, but you have to practice it over and over again to stay good.
And some people just have these skills. Especially with climbing, I've discussed it a lot, and visually, you can't see anything. You might imagine it differently in your head, like when and how you need to turn. I've tried out so many variations, like this way, that way, and that way, and I just find it not challenging. I think it's a feeling, where you can visualize in the curve while turning where it will bubble up better next, or where you can spend more time in good lift. And those who climb well just feel better where that's going to be on the next move. And they feel even better when they need to fly forward or when to wait. Yeah, maybe I lack a bit of that finesse. But people discuss it and they want to explain it too,
but they can't do it either. I mean, Maxim climbs incredibly well too, and he can't explain why. And he'd also love to be able to fly faster, and I can't explain to him how I do it either. So it's always a topic, but it's not just easily transferable.
Do you ever look at tracks from others? Like from the X-Alps, where you'd say, I'll analyze Maxim's or Damien's track again. We were at the same spot, and he just climbed off. What was perhaps recognizable in the track that you wouldn't really be able to notice while you're out there cranking it yourself?
I don't look at it that way because I experience it with them. But if, for example, I haven't seen them anymore and I'm wondering how they solved the puzzle, then I look at the tracks. So, often, watching live tracking was something I did in the evening before going to sleep. Just checking a bit who did what, because I had that task beforehand and thought to myself, "I'll try this and this," and then it worked one way or another. And then I looked at how they did it, and that's actually where I could take away or learn the most. But in terms of the efficiency of the turns or the glide, you don't really see that enough on the track.
What I noticed when watching the live tracking, even though I didn't do it consistently, but again and again in a few spots, is I also try to see what differences you can have just from the track, what different flight styles you can see. One thing that I noticed with you compared to Maxime, but especially with Damien, is that Damien circles extremely tight and does so extremely consistently. So, if you look at his thermals, it's really a corkscrew par excellence, going straight up and very tight. And with you, you can see more that you circle a bit larger—not by much, but a bit larger—and you sort of wobble around more in the bubble, maybe searching more for where it really goes up or something like that.
I don't know if Damien just hits the core better, but it was definitely noticeable on the track several times. You can see different circling styles just from the shape of the track, mainly ranging from tight and constant to searching further out. You were more of the searching type, and Damien was more of the tight corkscrew.
Yeah, exactly. Yeah, I can totally relate to that. You can see it too when you fly together. Maxim and also Patrick, they're always searching around too. Even Maxim, sometimes he flies extremely far away from what feels like the center to me. And then he digs something better out. It's always interesting how he just has a feeling for when he needs to search where and then flies away. And I just see the spot where I'm turning as like boiling water—like a pot of water where it's bubbling up everywhere. I fly around in that area where the water is boiling a bit and then I feel where the strongest core or the strongest bubble is coming from. And I'm always curious too, is there an even better one?
And that attitude of "I'm looking for the best one" actually leads to this wandering around. And I can imagine that when Damien has something, he tells himself, "I'm taking this," and then turns it tightly and stays there until he's at the top. And depending on the day, depending on the characteristics of the thermals, it's related to the instability of the air, but also to the humidity. Is one better or the other? And we already see that depending on the day, some pilots are better at one, while on others, they're better at the other.
Shouldn't a pilot be flexible enough to say, I basically have seven different styles at my disposal and depending on the situation I choose, like today I'll do the Damien, tomorrow I'll do the Kriegel, and the day after or with the next thermal, maybe the Maxim is more appropriate and I'll bank out wide and look for better lift otherwise?
Yes, that's actually exactly the approach, and that's what we have in mind too. It also plays a bit into what kind of glider it is, like what material you're flying, and how quickly you can get used to it. So, my approach when starting in the morning is to spend the first few minutes learning to understand what kind of thermals are actually on the menu today and what the best turning tactic for them is. And there are days, you know them well, where you're really focused and climbing well, but then there are also days where the beginners, the students with their beginner gliders, are actually climbing just as well and they're just flying around a bit and yeah, it's climbing everywhere a bit and never really focused, and then tight turning and focused flying doesn't help at all.
Do you ever try things like that, where you say, "I'll just try a different style," or when you've been flying for 25 years do you say you've basically found your style, especially since you're successful with the way you fly? So do you say, "I still want to improve in this detail somehow?"
Yes, I do try to adapt, and I think about 80, 90 percent of the time, this searching around and trying to climb more or less works, but there are always places or characteristically different conditions where you have to look at what you need to adjust or what to watch out for on the slope instead of just turning. I'm the type who prefers to search close to the slope. There is also good thermals further out. I had to learn that and understand it better too. From that perspective, yeah, you never stop learning, and adjusting the feeling is certainly a topic, but yeah, as I said, it's not my strength to climb well in weak conditions.
Many people consider you to be one of the most, or even the most, complete pilots out there. With your successes, you're also a huge role model for many people and for the scene and all that. How do you deal with always being in the focus, in the spotlight, being a role model like that? Is it ever a burden?
Yes, I'm actually aware of the role model aspect, especially since I started doing X-Alps in 2009. Before that, I wasn't very aware of it; in some areas, I don't want to be one at all, and I often get stressed by it. I'm more like the rascal who's always trying something out that might not be great for everyone. And now I have two sons, and for them, I'm a father and naturally want to be a good role model. I notice very quickly how the boys copy me, how they imitate and mimic me. That was actually very palpable for me. That was around 2009, 2010, when they were small. And then, well, when you're being observed, like during the X-Alps, whether in the life talking or the media coverage, you just try to behave in a way that allows you to say with a good conscience, I would do it that way again.
So, all the considerations are made so that you can say, this is sustainable, this is how you do it. I also try to always fly with a helmet, with a protector, with a rescue system, with well-maintained equipment, so that people can see from the outside how it's normally done correctly. I also really like doing, for example, with a small glider—so speed riding in the winter with skis or also in the summer—because you're already moving fast and looking cool, but it's just not exemplary. You don't have anything with you, you're moving very fast, and that's not actually the sustainable paragliding sport. But that is, for example, a situation where I have to say, yeah, there I'd perhaps be a bit less, preferably less known and less of a role model, so that I can live out this sport more, or for me, better.
But there aren't many pictures of you doing speed riding or anything like that. Do you intentionally hold back because of that role model aspect?
Yes, I've experienced a lot, especially since mini wings came out. I started in 2008 and I've done a lot, and I'd like to do more, like skydiving and base jumping. That's all just another level of extreme or exciting. But on the other hand, it's just not sustainable for me and I also don't think it's really safe, because I move so fast. I'm holding myself back extremely now, but somewhere inside I can already feel that it would still be cool.
Well, there are other pilots, for example, Aaron Drogati or something, who does all of that. And he does it very aggressively on social media and everything else, presenting it, where he goes up the mountain, then zips down under it with the speed glider, like how I think I saw him recently actually do his first base jump off the cliff, and stuff like that. Do you ever get jealous when people go at it so naively and you then say, I'm maybe being too much of a killjoy at that point?
I have those thoughts, yeah. But I think on the other hand, I'm free, I can do it too and I have done it before, and I know what it means and what it is, and I think about it freely. But I think publishing it like that doesn't help anyone. So my attitude towards public communication is that it should be informative, it should be inspiring, and also a help and support for my partners in communication, and ultimately also a sign of appreciation. And it doesn't need to include the other extreme as well. So I think it doesn't benefit anyone. And yeah, ultimately everyone has to judge that for themselves somewhere. I think Aaron's partners naturally appreciate it when he does things like that.
From that perspective, it's also understandable why he does it that way.
Why didn't you ever actually become a Red Bull athlete, even though you actually, well, celebrated your biggest successes with Red Bull as X-Alps, and where you actually—one could say—you're basically a natural athlete who would fit right into their family. But you didn't want to? Did they never ask you? Did you never reach out? Or why not?
Yeah, that's an interesting question. I actually negotiated with Red Bull Switzerland twice. The first time I pushed for it and got a rejection because there were too many Red Bull athletes in Switzerland for that pool at the time. And then Red Bull approached me, but I already had my sponsors and partners, and ultimately, it was actually more suitable for me at the time to go my own way with Lowa shoes and Advance. And with Red Bull, I already had the certainty of realizing some great projects, but as a father, I was more dependent on a budget, which I just didn't have back then.
It didn't quite fit their philosophy back then, and it didn't really harmonize in terms of the content during the execution. But I'm actually such a Red Bull family guy. I've done a lot with Red Bull, like being allowed to do aqua shows and photoshoots, and I get all the cans too, and I actually really like the drink. So from that perspective, it fits perfectly.
At an XF, I don't know, in 2013 or something like that, you held up a Cola can to the camera and said it tasted much better than Red Bull because you were a bit annoyed with the organizers. Was there actually a lot of trouble going on behind the scenes back then?
There was obviously a backstory to why I said that, because I actually had no reason to. The reason was that during the briefing they told us, we have to post, we have to do videos, we have to do interviews, and they are going to control everything to make sure nothing wrong gets out. And at the time, I spoke up and said, for us as Swiss people, that sounds a bit arrogant and not very likable when you tell us that. But if you want, I'll gladly test it. I mean, I'm already testing whether he controls everything. And then it was like this, we had received a penalty. So 27 out of 30 athletes received a penalty. And the interview was actually the question, how do you feel when you get a penalty like that?
And what do you do now? And I just gave a classic answer, like, that's just how it is. And the cameraman then said, the interview should be a bit more emotional. Like, get a bit angry and not just be so well-behaved. So I tilted my head a bit and was there in Lermos with the Coke can. And then I expressed myself a bit, let's say, emotionally. And then at the end, I did the line with the Coke can. And he laughed and said, they're going to cut that out anyway. And then he sent the video, they watched the beginning and thought it fit well, and then they uploaded the whole video. And it was on Facebook for a few minutes. But then someone copied it too.
And that's now clearly on YouTube. It's still there, it's still a highlight. And yes, there was a call as a consequence, where I was asked to go home because I was being disqualified. That was very, very hectic for a short moment. And Thomas helped me with the phone call because I had grabbed the nano glider and wanted to continue in the competition. That was during the competition in Lermos. Yes, and in the end, I just said he should check out who posted it. It wasn't us, it was someone of his. And I told him I would test him. And just... see if they control everything properly. And from my point of view, they didn't do it well.
And that's why it's online now. Then a few minutes later we got another call saying we could stay in the race. And by the finish line, we were already making jokes again. But for a short moment, I think it was already tense.
I can imagine. When I saw that back then, I thought, I'm curious to see if you'll even be invited back for the next XF season or something. Do you actually have to reapply every time? Or is there not a... I mean, do you still really write a detailed application? Or is it just... Come on, "application" just means 8-time X-Alb winner now.
I'm actually back on board for 2025.
I don't know the background that well. I obviously also have to do the official registration. There's a lot asked for there. I certainly don't have to fill in everything in detail to apply. But what we athletes write there regarding experience will be published on the official website. And for the fans, I'm happy to write a bit more extensively, which I've already done. I do that from scratch every time. Although I've started saving these stories for the last three events so I can just paste them in again for the next registration. With a slight update. So that I don't... Well, the X-Alp registration definitely takes an hour if you're not used to it.
So that means you're doing more copy-pasting in that spot now. Exactly. And then you run it through an AI text rewriter and say, "now phrase this a bit more casually," and then it comes out accordingly.
Yeah, next time that'll be possible. But what I did, I also tested the AI. Or my son tested it. And this time it was quite funny. In May, he said, write a text about Gretel Maurer. And then it wrote that I've already won the X-Alps eight times. And then I said, that's a good evening.
That means soon you'll stop dreaming and just use an AI that predicts what you actually need to do. Exactly. Maybe someday there will be flight AIs where you say, I'm flying to the Dufourspitze today in these weather conditions near Mont Blanc, or something like that. Give me the best flight route and it calculates it for you. Could you imagine flying like that technically at some point? That probably wouldn't be your fun anymore.
So, there's already something like that in principle—the Burner weather forecast with XTER planning, where you basically say I want to fly from here to there, and then based on the hotspots where you could fly through, it shows you which base you should have to keep going. So from that perspective, it's not that far off.
You also do, or founded, the X-Alps Academy. What drove you to do that, to say, I want to pass something on to them as well?
There were several reasons in 2018. For one, there was a lack of youth development in Hikenfly. I mean, we have the association and the Swissleague, where you just do flight training and flight defense competitions. And we have various endurance development systems in Switzerland, but actually no Hikenfly development. And my main sponsor, Teamwork, we always philosophized about it and said that it would actually make sense if, when I no longer want to or can, there's a youth generation that is strong. And that then had a five-year development project following it, which I planned over five years again. And I was also able to contribute part of my performance for Teamwork from my sponsors, where we said we have something new in Switzerland, something innovative, we have the right Teamwork.
And it was also motivating for me to see how I can transfer my knowledge. Like, what helps other athletes and what doesn't? Or what can I contribute so that they don't make the same mistakes I did? Just all the safety aspects, but also the efficiency. And in the end, I learned that if I can articulate something—if I can articulate my skills—then I understand it even better. So that was actually the whole learning process for me, moving forward with that experience. That I understand even better for myself how I actually do it. And that helps me again and again.
Would you recommend to people saying, hey, if you want to progress, start teaching?
Definitely, because I've noticed that I can actually do a lot of things that I can't explain. And I think there are many areas, especially with computer stuff, IT things, where I can do it but I can't explain how, because I'm not that good. I can just do it by trial and error. And then I can't explain to my mother how I did it,
but because I just don't know it well enough. And I think that in paragliding, I'm at a point now where I can actually explain how it's done again. And that came about by thinking about how I do it and how I can put it into words.
How often are you actually out there with the people at the X-Alps Academy to explain things to them and really pass on your knowledge? Yes,
We have about 10 trainings a year, 10 weekends where we're out together. And I'm there for about 7 or 8 of those. Plus a few competitions where we plan and debrief beforehand. And yeah, a bit online too. It comes to about 20 days a year.
On those days, do the Academy pilots learn more from you, or do you learn more from them, or rather, by teaching them something?
Hard to say. I think we each do a task based on the weather report. And I can, of course, benefit from that as well. The cool thing is actually the WhatsApp group we have. Someone always has an answer to some question, or people have an idea of where they can find information. Because of that, I see myself as very privileged to have so many committed people, and that we can get better together. In terms of flight technique, they certainly benefit from me and also from the tasks. So, if you manage to set the right daily goal for your skills, then you benefit the most. It's like going to the gym.
and you think about which muscles you want to train how. Then it makes sense to have a trainer who says, for this muscle group, it makes sense to start on this machine with this much weight and these many exercises, and then increase like this and like that. And I'm actually the fitness trainer in the gym who says, okay, we're going here, with this weather it makes sense, and up to here and no further. Yes, it's also exciting for me to learn what I can expect from others. Like, how do I assess them and what do I trust them to do? So that they get as close to the limit as possible, that they get tired muscles, but not a strain.
But now, there are all sorts of different people involved. Probably with varying fitness levels too, even if many of them are likely relatively well-trained by now, but maybe also different flying skills that have developed over time. How do you bring a group like that together to ensure that everyone gets something out of it?
Yeah, you have to set the tasks in a way that both work. Sure, sometimes it's too little for some and too much for others. They might end up standing on the ground and taking public transport. And when it gets really difficult or dangerous, it's simply important that everyone decides for themselves what they're doing and decides early. And the philosophy or the procedure simply has to be known. Then they're all adults and they can implement that relatively well. But you do need that philosophy, something you can just settle on, so you don't let the group push you.
until something happens. We've had training sessions again and again where we were right at the limit, where we were really pushed, and yet nothing happened, where we had to say, that was too much, or that was too hard, or too difficult. That's why it happened. But I'm also very concerned about always building in the necessary caution or dampening and putting into perspective certain feelings of overconfidence.
Sometimes you also do courses for flight schools where you say, yeah, we're doing a cross-country flight course or something like that. The other day I saw something on your Facebook too. You were with a group and flew up the Eiger North Face, sorted, gethermed, I don't know. Do you manage to get a whole group all the way over the summit of the Eiger North Face?
Yes, basically. Fundamentally, I'm motivated by people like Tobias Dimmler, who was with me at the X-Hubs. He has a flight school now, and I can give something back to him again. And we're doing this cross-country flight course together in the summer, and a hike-fly course in the autumn.
And it's also exciting to think about how to transfer the knowledge here, how to set tasks where you can experience what you're capable of and then analyze it in the day briefing—where was it difficult, where was it easy, what was possible, what wasn't. The exciting thing about that day was that based on the forecast, we actually couldn't have expected to fly over the Eiger. But we had defined a task and we also said that we'd leave some room for people to practice during the day. And it was about gathering experience. And yeah, there were ten of us and with one hook, I made it, or rather he did with me, because he inspired me,
to fly over the Eiger, because I didn't think it was possible. And he was already pretty high up, at the summit, and I thought, if he can do that, then maybe I can too. And it actually went like that. And in the end, we were together above the summit, and it was an extremely beautiful experience to be able to share moments like that.
That means you also learn again or get motivated, really by the others, to say, if he can go that high, then I can do it too. Yeah,
Definitely. And I think that's also the great thing about approaching it this way and saying, I'm one of the students in the course, not the instructor.
I did provide a certain structure and transferred theoretical know-how, but then during the flight, I also saw myself as one of the group members. I go with the group, I analyze, I film a lot so that I can point out during the debriefing who did what and how. And ultimately, I do have the opportunity to benefit from the others as well, if someone tries something that is their dream, and I see, okay, if they do that, then maybe I will too, and if it works, it's all the more wonderful.
These are small groups, ten people. Have you said what about very large groups? When is your book project coming out, let's say, so that everyone can read it and everyone can learn something from you?
Yes, I'm working on the book too. That was already my fourth attempt over the years, but now it's further along than ever before. A lot has been done textually and content-wise. In a symbolic sense, the book shows everything that has happened in my life that has brought me this far. And there isn't really a magic formula or a single point where I say, "that's what makes it," but rather it's the sheer volume of many things, which is why it's actually like the image of the iceberg. Right now, people from the outside see the tip of the iceberg, which is about ten percent.
And I'd say, the book actually shows what's under the water—how I grew up, what I experienced, what competitions I did, how and where. And once you've read the book, I'd say it's much clearer why the tip is sticking out of the water.
Is it a kind of autobiography?
An autobiography with stories from paragliding and insights into what it took for me to get this far.
Since you're already writing your autobiography, have you ever thought about the end of your career?
Nothing about that is in there yet. I've basically defined it as: as long as I can make a living from the sport—meaning I can stay healthy, train, and set motivating goals—I want to keep going. And the other thing is, of course, passing on the experience. That's why I keep doing coaching, personal training, and courses, so that I can understand that better. How can I transfer my knowledge effectively? Because I'm thinking about replacing the competitions with these courses and coaching, so I can still work with paragliding.
What about your two sons? Do you coach them too? So, are they already learning to fly from you?
They're allowed to fly along. But when I fly, I tell them how it's done and explain a bit of what I'm thinking and all that. Sure. But basically, they have to go to flight school, and there, the flight instructor actually tells them exactly how it's done. So I think it's also important to separate that, or for them to learn from someone who has a bit of respect within the hierarchy, and not their father, because at their age, they don't believe you anyway.
How old are they now?
13 and 15.
That means they can actually start now, so at 15, to get their license and stuff. They'll be able to fly freely soon. Do they want to follow in his footsteps?
Hard to say. Flying, yes, but not really competition. So there are no clear statements right now about what they exactly want. But they think flying is great. They find it exciting and challenging in some way. And ground handling has been a topic for a long time. Flying it themselves one day and having the thing under control. And now the older one has been flying for a year and already has over 80 flights, 50 hours. He actually flies a lot and I've already flown with him. Yes, it's actually nice when you see that it works, that the passion is overflowing. And that we can share those moments together in the air.
Yeah, the passion for competition can come later. You could say, hey Kriegel, go ahead and complete those ten X-Alps successes. So now you have to stick it out for another four years. Then your oldest—at least he'll be 19, if I've calculated correctly—might be trained enough by then, or a year or two later, to basically follow in your footsteps at 21. He'd then be perhaps the youngest winner in the X-Alps, and then there'd be a Maurer dynasty simply dominating the X-Alps. Would that be a nice vision for you?
It's a nice thought, but it's never really crossed my mind. I don't think it's important either. I mean, we have that in the family too. My brother flies as well. I see that he's a bit less ambitious, and that maybe prevents him from having even more successes. But he's actually better than I am and can really enjoy flying, and he works on it, well, as a Gleitschirm-Blog. And that's actually the important thing—that you find a way somewhere that motivates you. To be honest, I wished my sons wouldn't fly, because I also know how dangerous it is and how stressful it is when they're out there flying. But I think if they didn't fly, they'd do something else that wouldn't be entirely stress-free for the parents.
In that sense, I'm quite happy that they're flying now, because I can probably give them the most guidance regarding paragliding, since I know it best.
And ultimately, what they do with it and how far it goes, we'll see then; we are
I'm completely open to that. Gregel, I'll leave that outlook for the end. Thank you for the very colorful, very broad story about your life, especially your competition life, and for some insights into the peripheral areas as well. I really enjoyed it. I think many of the listeners did too. And it's always great to see you fly, but also to see how, even though you fly in such a goal-oriented way, you still reflect so much on what you do with it and how you can still pass that on. Thanks for that.
Thank you so much for the questions and for transferring your know-how. I'm always motivated by that and hope it helps one or another. Anytime.
sometime, eventually. Once your book is out, we'll probably have to talk about some of the content from it again. Then I'll invite you back to the new podcast.
Exactly. That'll be in the autumn. Printing is planned for September. Then in October I'll be giving lectures, and they always say you can sell books at lectures. So from that perspective, the planning is already perfect.
Alright, well, maybe I'll even invite you again soon. Maybe there will really be a few things we can talk about in more depth then. Kriegel, thank you.
Thank you and have a nice day. Ciao, Lucia.
That was the Podz-Glidz episode "Gut Feeling" with Kriegel Maurer. His book, which is coming out this autumn, will be titled "The Overachiever." If you want to learn more about Kriegel in advance, you can find some additional links in the show notes. I am Lucian Haas and the producer of Podz-Glidz and Loglites. The podcast and blog are passion projects for me. However, as a freelance journalist, I also make a living from these offerings. That said, I deliberately avoid compromising advertising, annoying paywalls, or subscription models for funding. Instead, I rely on the fact that, just as nature gives me lift while flying, you as an enthusiastic listener and reader give me financial lift. As a supporter, you can give as much as you want, or rather, decide for yourself what such an offering is worth to you.
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