It's already beyond gratitude; it's almost a sense of disbelief, where I'm thinking, "Wow, crazy, I'm suddenly where I wanted to be." This dream of turning it on, of starting out relaxed, without all that stress before the takeoff, hoping everything goes well, and having no idea—you just have this anticipation for the startup process alone, and then you show up with a certain confidence that you'll probably get off the ground, and then you fly on, and somewhere you see a meadow and think, "Yep, that would be a nice place to land," and then you fly towards it, and then you pull through, and then you're standing there in a meadow, and I still just find that amazing.
Podz-Glidz, the Lu-Glidz podcast.
Stories from the cosmos of paragliding.
Today with...
Erika Dürr, probably better known as Uli Gunde.
And I'm Lucian Haas, better known for Lu-Glidz.
When it comes to mountaineering, there are significantly more podcast offerings than for paragliding. Among the best-known is Uli Gunde. Under this pseudonym, Erika Dürr, who lives in the Allgäu, first started a personal blog, which later became the podcast of the same name. In it, the 36-year-old has very personal conversations with people who have mountains on their minds. Sometimes, this also includes paragliding and paragliders. This is because Erika is a pilot herself. In the climbing scene, Erika also became well-known because, as Uli Gunde, she very openly addresses unpleasant topics such as her own fears, blockages, loss, and grief, but also the challenges for women in a male-dominated sport.
I was interested in how she experiences the same themes in paragliding. And so, in this episode 147 of Podz-Glidz, Erika talks about, among other things, her fear of fear. The fear she struggled with for a long time. The fear of not taking off cleanly. The fear of sinking again immediately. The fear of being overwhelmed by thermals in a steep wall. Etc. Ultimately, it was the fear of being able to face such fears at all that led to her hardly going up into the air two years ago. Why she stuck with it anyway and how she sort of flew free this year, that is also discussed here. There
while you're listening to the podcast, why not become a supporter of Podz-Glidz? It's explained very simply in the Gleitschirm-Blog LOOGLIGHTS, specifically on the "Fördern" page.
Erika, what's a question you'd love to answer sometime?
You're constantly asking other people questions in your podcast. There are probably some really cool ones in there. And maybe there are some cool questions where you think, hey, that one has never been asked of me. But maybe that would be something.
Lucian, I woke up this morning and thought, oh, I have the podcast later. But how cool, I don't have to ask any questions today. I just have to, I don't have to think ahead. I just have to react. And now you come at me with a question where I have to come up with a question for myself again. I find that, I find that, I find that cheeky.
Alright, okay. You
you're the pro
with me. You're the
podcast host too. So, you must have a whole list of questions in your head. I actually wanted to point out that you might have a question you ask in between and think, "Hey, that's so cool." Sometimes you do find your own questions cool, the ones you ask.
Sorry, I keep interrupting you. The cool questions are the ones that just come up naturally. And generally, I think—well, we both always prepare for these podcasts. But for me, those are really just for the worst-case scenario. Like, if the conversation isn't flowing and we don't just naturally drift somewhere we didn't think we'd end up, then I need that framework. And the cool questions happen because I hear a keyword or catch a nuance that I can jump on, and then we take a turn we didn't think we'd take. So from that perspective, there aren't really questions that I'm like, "I'd love to ask." Generally, I don't like asking questions multiple times or anything like that.
Yeah, everyone.
And the question that, if you ask me right now, what question would I like to ask you? Well, then I'd like to talk to you right now. But we're not doing that now, I heard. No, we're not doing that.
Then I'll ask a different question. Which question do you have no answer to?
Where the name Uli Gunde comes from. Now we're probably at the favorite question. But I could actually answer it briefly. I wanted to answer it first. I actually wanted to
put at the very end. But we're putting it now. It was supposed to be my closer, basically. We were going to clear that up at the very end. Now we're clearing it up at the beginning. Where does the name Uli Gunde come from?
I'm still waiting for a more creative story that actually makes some sense. The reality is that probably 15 years ago, or I don't know when, I wanted to sign up for StudiVZ. And back then, it was somehow the first time you needed to have a nickname. And I just had no idea. At that moment, my brother called. He's a bit older than me and excitedly told me he'd met a woman. And her name was Kuni Gunde. He even had her show him her ID specifically. And then I found the name kind of funny and thought, okay, I can't take Kuni Gunde. Like, Uli Gunde is also an old-fashioned German name, it's also funny. And now, some years later, it turned out that it's not actually an old-fashioned German name.
...but it was simply an original creation back then. Which, of course, was a very subtle move in terms of search engine optimization. So, if you type Uli Gunde into Google now—from a marketing perspective, that's
basically brilliant. I also googled Uli Gunde again. And you're the only one who shows up.
Yes, there's still a singer from Berlin. She didn't show up for me. Yeah, I pushed her out with my blathering. Talked her to death, so to speak. Exactly. So that was probably my most striking or creative marketing move. You have
Should you have Uli Gunde protected? As a term, as a name?
I can't answer that now. Or I'm not allowed to answer the question. Because someone else might come along. So no, no, no. But it's also like, I think with the name it's the same as with data. I keep thinking to myself, I really should back up all my photos and all kinds of data properly. And on the other hand, I think to myself, if it's gone, then it's gone. Then something else comes along.
Yeah. Life goes on and something new comes along. But no one can take Uli Gunde away from you, even if someone else were to somehow protect it or something. Probably. Because then you can just say, "Well, that's just my name." Or you can prove that you've had it for a very long time.
I don't know. I'd actually find it... I mean, it would really be a consideration of whether I shouldn't use that as a hook. To go.
So if, if someone were to actually challenge my name now or if I had to somehow fight for this name. I mean, I've had it for... what do we have here? 24. Yes, I've had it for twelve years. No, 14 years. I've had this name for 14 years. Oh my god. I've had this name, Uli Gunde. And I...
Fourteen years ago, many things were different. And now, many things are different. Not just for me, but also in this world, in this social—well, in the social media world and so on. And I mean, yeah, sooner or later, I think it's time to move on.
Alright. Just a small anecdote on the side. My name or not my name, but my blog name Luke Leitz, which is also written a bit strangely and so on. There really is someone who secured the domain names that I never registered as a domain myself. At least lukeleitz.de. I don't know if it's still the case. A few years ago it was like that. I'll just take a look. Is it theoretically still free, without me wanting to have it now, and then I saw. Yes, someone really secured that without anything behind it. So probably only in the sense that if I maybe someday wanted to have this domain, then he'll say, then you have to pay me 10 € or 100 or whatever. So far I haven't paid for it and I don't have my own Luke Leitz domain either, it's still running as a Blogspot.
But that's just on the side, how names like that can be turned into a business by others. But I don't want to talk much about marketing or anything like that. I'd rather talk about you and your podcast and paragliding and everything related to it. In this podcast, Uli Gunde, you say—and that was also in your, I don't know if it's still like that today, but at the beginning it was always in your trailer at the start—where you say you talk to people who have mountains in their heads. Mhm. Well, paragliders also appear in between as conversation partners, although the majority of the people you have in there, or the bulk of them, are more or less well-known names from the alpine scene. Yes. If you compare it like that, you have paragliders, you have these top climbers, and other things involved—do the conversations run differently?
Now I have to think for a second about who I have in mind regarding the Gleitschirm-Blog. Because, of course, I mainly have paragliding instructors, so right now I'm thinking of Chris Geist, Achim Joos, Eki Maute, Lukas Leubin, Cordula Gröniger—there weren't any, or I hope I'm not doing anyone wrong, but I don't think there were any others, I mean, yes, Achim Joos is also a competition pilot, but there was no one there, like an Arundo Rugati or something who can fly so many kilometers, or a Fabi Buhl. I mean, Fabi Buhl would of course be mega interesting, shoutout here by the way, Fabi, if you do want to join my podcast, feel free. Yes, and of course, these conversations go differently; it's naturally a bit more about the paragliding scene, how to teach well, how to let people grow slowly, and how you might also hold them back a bit, while pushing others a bit because they are afraid themselves.
So, yeah, the conversations... the conversations do run differently, because the alpinists mostly talk about experiences, often very positive or very tragic experiences, and also a bit of a look back at the last few years, and with the paragliding instructors—I'll just say instructors now, because they've mostly been men actually—the conversations run a bit differently, yeah.
Now, you climb, or have climbed, sometimes more intensely, then not so intensely. You fly a paraglider. Would you say that as a climber, you also have different stories to tell?
Yeah, well, I'm probably walking on pretty thin ice now, because I think people who have this huge fable about paragliding might not see it the way I do, but from my point of view, climbing is—oh, now the ice is getting thin—but from my point of view, climbing is more intense. It's mostly done with two people, that's like the biggest difference; you share this experience with another person in every aspect, including all those moments of fear and the moments where you hesitate, where you have to make a decision, and then you celebrate together, and even if something happens, you're usually still somehow together.
That's not really the case with paragliding. Now I've lost your question a bit. What did you say?
Do climbers have different stories or tell them differently?
Yeah, exactly, and it's hard to put into words. For me, it's just something different. I mean, with climbing, you can obviously plan what you're about to do much better. You have an idea of what's coming your way. You have a difficulty level, you have a length, you have conditions. You have conditions that you can assess relatively clearly. You just look up from below and can already see if there's ice on it or not, or if it's dry or something. And with paragliding, it's just a mystery box. I don't know what it's like for more experienced pilots, but when I'm standing at the launch site, I can't say if I'll be in the air for 15 minutes or three hours. And I don't know what's waiting for me. I don't know what the conditions will be like. And of course, there's also the component of whether I have the right headspace.
Or whether I'm in my element, whether I'm calm and so on. And these are just two completely, completely different sports. And it's also a bit difficult, I find, to talk about a flight. Now, of course, you can go into all the paragliding blah blah and here I had a collapse and there I was so great and here I am and there was a thermal. But that's all just a bit intangible. And I find that with climbing, maybe I can just grasp it better. I don't know.
Does that maybe have something to do with the medium? I mean, for me, climbing is man with and against the rock. Yes. And you have something tangible, something observable for other people too. You can also follow a line, the exact same line. The bolts might still be in there and you know exactly, okay, at this ledge. I have to pull myself up on this little thing with my left hand and put my foot back there. Then I get further here. But with paragliding, you never have that. You can say, okay, there's a thermal at point X, but sometimes it only reaches 1,500 meters and other times it reaches 4,500 meters. And you know, you can predict it a bit beforehand, but you don't know exactly if it's on right now or if I can get there, if I can pull myself up like that, and stuff like that.
Especially because the air is so invisible, so immense. It's so incomprehensible that it makes it much harder to describe as well. And actually, you could almost say that paragliding is the harder podcast topic.
Yes, you've put it perfectly into words. Exactly. I'm listening to you and thinking, yeah, that's exactly what I wanted to say. That's exactly how it is. And what I find, from my perspective, also adds to paragliding is that it's always so ultra-subjective.
Yeah, it's always like that. Or it was like that. And if you then talk to someone else who might have been in the same spot, it's possible that the opinions completely diverge. And it's all so diffuse and vague. And it's also so hard to grasp. I mean, when you hear that people are in Pakistan or in India, like, so many kilometers away. And there, I don't know, yeah, I can't grasp it. I have no idea. And so, yeah, here in Allgäu, I know the mountains. Then I already know how hard that is because I've failed at it myself many times. Then I can gauge it a bit better. If someone here, I don't know, flew this and that route, then I can grasp it a bit better. But with a mountain or a long ridge or I don't know, you see pictures and immediately think, wow, that's an achievement, that's far, or that's difficult.
Or if, I don't know, there's a 7c on it, then I think, wow, that's an achievement. That's a real feat. That's difficult. Yeah,
I find that difficult too. In paragliding, everything focuses on the mileage or the final score at the end, at least in XC flying. But very often, it's actually like you say, there are conditions where you can glide 100 kilometers like it's nothing. It just carries you along, not because you're in a superflow, but because the air simply says, hey, go, come on, I'll hold you, push you here, just fly over there. It's going up again anyway. And then, sometimes, just about anyone can fly 100 kilometers. You just have to dare to keep flying. And then there are the conditions where flying 20 kilometers on that day is ten times harder than 100 kilometers on other days, or something like that.
But that never expresses itself in any kind of number. But you can also never describe it in a way where you ultimately say, hey, hats off to this 20-kilometer flight. Or only a very few people who might have been in the air that day will say, wow, look at how he pulled that off and all that. But you can't trace it anywhere. Whereas in rock climbing, you know, okay, this is a route at difficulty 7a, 7b, whatever, where you say, hey, you know what that person did. And even if it was just a very short route, it's an extremely difficult thing and it gets recognized accordingly.
Yeah, so I actually felt that this year. Also with the X-Peaks project by Gregor Maurer and Peter von Kennel. I can't gauge it. I mean, yeah, I know what it means to climb a 4,000-meter peak. I also know what it means to start there. I don't know what it means to fly there. And I had no idea at all what they did there. And for that, I need an outside assessment. And when I then naturally hear professional pilots saying it was an incredible feat... I mean, on that one day where they flew over a lot of... fish, I was a fish and it was just... I mean, there was no one else in the air, it was just insanely windy and there were exactly two gliders in the air. And even then it was like, ah, okay, yeah, they seem to be serious about it.
But I, well, yeah, it's air, I can't see it, I can't gauge it.
How would you describe or what would you say about what you experience in the air? Ah!
Haha. I've got you now.
Yeah, that's changed now, that's... that's changed. It's changed in a really weird way over the last year—no, the last six months. It used to always be a fear. It was always, just like with climbing, I always had a fear. I didn't just have a fear when it somehow rumbled, but I actually already had a fear before it would rumble right now. And that I'd then definitely do something wrong or misjudge something, and afterwards people would say, "Ah, that was obvious," or "You never fall there," or "In that wind, you never do that," or "You always do that," or "You do it like that." And I had such a fear, a... yeah, I had such a fear of the fear, so I had a fear of feeling a fear, because I mostly already...
Yeah, I've already landed many, many times before because I somehow thought, oh, this is, this is... this isn't good.
Quick question, why did you go up into the air at all? I mean, I think there are so many people who feel the same way as you do. And that's probably one of the reasons why so many people quit paragliding relatively soon, because they might have had one moment of fear and then it just escalates into fear of the fear of the fear of the fear, roughly. And then at some point you say, no, I don't want to do that anymore. You don't really admit it to yourself, and you don't admit it to others either, and you find other reasons because you don't have the time or something else, but because you always push in so many other things and then you'd rather go to your mother-in-law than go up into the air or whatever.
And why did you still go flying despite your fear?
Yeah, why did I dedicate ten years of my life to climbing when I actually always had some kind of fear? I think, on one hand, there are these lighthouse days, where things go well and you see that you can do it, and where you also see how awesome it is. Exactly, what a great feeling it is afterwards, or even during it.
And I think what always, exactly, it's actually always the search for these lighthouse days, or this longing for the peak of those lighthouse days. And for me, it's just a hunch. Like, I could do it if I weren't standing in my own way. It was always like, I've asked myself so many times, am I being brave or am I anxious? Because I do some things that someone who says they're anxious would never do. I mean, getting through the north face of the Zinnen or, I don't know, free soloing some mountains, someone who's afraid wouldn't actually do that. And Cordula told me that this year during the SIV training too.
Someone who flies wingovers doesn't have any fear.
Yeah, and that's exactly the feeling I had too. It was like, yeah, something's not right. I don't actually feel anxious because in the situations where it really mattered, I didn't panic or I was super rational, I reacted really well. And at the same time, I always turn back immediately. The moment it's potentially not 100 percent under control anymore, I'm out and go land right away. And I see it with others too, and with many who fly much less long, who don't do that. And yeah, what's right? That was always the question. And now I've just looked at it again this year, and also together with a coach.
And now that has completely changed. I mean, I thought about it yesterday. We were in Lechthal flying and it was like, I don't know, if it's even going to go up. There was also a lot of wind up there and I don't know. I then did some turns, I circled out, and thought, that's weird. I feel totally comfortable here, even though it wasn't exactly relaxed. It might be that I've had a new harness for a few days now. Of course, you could say, yeah, that's the harness. But I think, well, something has changed. And just like it was yesterday, and also several times this year now, where I was in situations where I thought, that's weird. I mean, if I were from half a year ago, I would have gone down to land now.
I would have found some excuse now, like that it's not good anymore or that it won't go up anyway, or something.
And yesterday I just kept going. It was, it was magical. It was just cool.
Like a bit of Ronja Räubertochter with the dangers. And then she calls out and says, "Bring on the challenges," let's just put it like that.
Yeah, exactly. I mean, that's what I keep hearing now. Like, "be careful" and "don't get overconfident" and stuff like that. And I think to myself, guys, I'm—up until now, I've felt, in what unit of measurement should I say this? I'm 100 meters away from the danger and I've already turned around without even looking at it. I'm already—at the mountain before it, I've already turned around because I thought, "that next face looks so big. It's definitely going to be intense. The thermals there must be huge, and I don't want to go there. That's definitely going to be really bad. I'm not flying there at all." And now it's like, I'm thinking, "well, let's just take a look at it." And I think I'm still so defensive because I also know just how little I know.
I actually, I mean, I already have a massive issue with dyslexia when it comes to cardinal directions and wind directions too. I mean, yeah, thanks to the vario for always telling me where the wind is coming from. Or if I'm flying with a lot of tailwind, I also check that the wind is coming from behind. But there's just, I still have this fear of flying into somewhere where there's something I didn't see coming. And I don't even know how realistic this danger is. I mean, I think if you have a bit of an idea about the wind or if you also have on your glider that there's a valley wind right now. And how it flows and so on. And if you also take a look at how much wind there is right now and all that. I just don't know if this fear is justified, that you fly somewhere and then you're suddenly completely wrecked out of nowhere.
You'll be able to judge that better. I have no idea.
I still find it interesting, though, when you say, yeah, that changed in the last six months. Can you still trace back a bit what you did on the way there? On one hand, you said, okay, you worked with some mental coaching. But was that really just a thing in your head, or did you consciously train other things too, or somewhere else? At what point did a door open where you'd say, I can still recognize that as a door? Suddenly there was a foundation there that I hadn't seen before.
So the first thing that comes to mind is that I think I've started to trust myself.
That I simply trust a bit more that I won't overlook anything major now. And that I'm allowed to make mistakes, that I'm allowed to make a wrong decision. And most likely, there won't even be someone standing at the landing field who will then tell me, "Well, you always do it differently," or "That's always different." Like, "If the wind is like this and that, then it's always like this." I always had this fear before, and I've somehow, I've decided that I don't care about that anymore and that it's okay to make a wrong decision. That is, in that sense, Ronja Räubertochter is right; I have actually accepted that I might even make such a wrong decision, that I really get into
...into supposed difficulties. Like, I just notice, oh shit, okay, that's really a lee. That's bad. But I—yeah, exactly. So that's something that has already changed a lot for me. Because then, of course, you fly a bit.
Yeah, more confident, maybe a bit cheekier, a bit bolder. Maybe you fly like I probably did in my first year. Or like everyone probably does in their first year, completely naive and just having no clue about anything. And you're always thinking, wow, that was a cheeky line, but it worked like a charm. So, that's one thing. And I think the other thing is that I've accepted that I don't have any particular talent. I mean, I don't have an insane feel for it. It's gotten a bit better with the new glider, though. I used to have an Epsilon, an absolute, I mean, an incredibly great glider. Exactly the right one for someone like me, I think. But of course, feeling it with that was a bit difficult.
And yeah, now I have the new glider and I can feel much, much, much more with it. That's definitely a difference. And yet, I'm just—I mean, I don't fly particularly efficiently right now. I'm clear on that too. And I also know that I don't have a special knack for weather or for connections. I just find it hard to understand. And to be honest, I don't really feel like digging into that. And now some people will probably say, yeah, then you're not allowed to go paragliding or you're not allowed to go cross-country if you don't feel like dealing with that. I think I have a basic understanding. But I think my problem was always that I wanted to belong to the best. Or I wanted that, or to be among the greats. In my perception, it's like, there are the greats. And they do it well.
That's how I wanted to be able to fly too. And then I'd get annoyed if I couldn't fly like that. And I'm not talking about people with the Zeolites or anything, but just people I was roughly comparing myself to. And I just wanted to fly like them too. But I couldn't, because I just wasn't that good at flying. And I had a hard time accepting that. I wanted to be able to do that too, because I can do anything. I've learned everything. I've even, I don't know, I've achieved so many things in life, so many things, and somehow felt like I've done everything I wanted. Then I should be able to do paragliding now. I mean, it can't be that hard. The others can do it too. And then I just accepted that there are simply differences. And that I have so many hobbies at the same time that I don't want to put my full focus on flying right now.
And that's why I'm just not that good. And since I've accepted that...
What does "good" actually mean to you? I mean, in paragliding. Good question. Good question. In the paragliding scene, "good" is always the one who's flown a hundred, the two-hundred, whatever. So it's always this points-oriented thing. But it could also be, well, what I always think about is, like, hey, the person who flies in a way that picks up so many fine details that others don't see, because they're still observing how the bird is flying there, or saw the hiker taking a break at the church when flying into the valley below. And basically soaks up the nature around them. Isn't that the better pilot? I wonder sometimes. You can't express it, you just can't compare it or anything like that.
But you always tend to say, yeah, the other person flies better.
Yeah, yeah, I'm totally with you there. But is it only
better because he's progressed further? Or is it maybe the one who doesn't get as far, but manages the much nicer circles or whatever?
There are a lot of things in there. So, who is the best? The better pilot? I'd say the best pilot is the one who has the most fun.
And for me, what I wanted or wanted to achieve was, at one point, a certain level of security that I probably wouldn't crash right at the beginning. So, if the main group takes off, that I'll also get up there. And that just wasn't the case a year ago. And that alone was already eating at me, because in my perception, it naturally drags the day down a bit. Because it's that comparison to climbing again. If you go climbing or alpine climbing, you know that the day is going to be filled. You know roughly how long it's going to take. And if you go paragliding now and have all the big equipment with you, it's frustrating if you're standing on the ground after 15 minutes while everyone else is still up in the air. So, I found that frustrating.
That's one thing. Then there's the other thing, which I don't know if I'm just assuming, but I think it is—this freedom, in so to speak, for good or experienced pilots to fly for a certain amount of time and then land autonomously.
So, not being landed or dropped off, but saying, I want to land, and there, and ideally land perfectly up there. Then I take a 20-minute break, pee once, have two cookies, and then I fly on.
Something like that. So that you can just say, yeah, today I feel like, I don't know, flying to the Hochvogel. And if the conditions are more or less right, then it's realistic to do it and then fly back to a landing field or somehow back to civilization. For me, that's a certain kind of freedom in flying, because otherwise, you're always driven by the bogeyman that you're going to drown right now. So, yeah, that's not freedom anymore, I think. And for me, the third component of what I still have as a dream, as you actually just said, is landing in a beautiful meadow in between. That's just such a dream scenario. I don't know where it comes from, but for me, that's also a kind of freedom.
How crazy is it that you take off, then you gear up and fly over different peaks, and then you land somewhere in a beautiful spot, take a break, whether alone or with others, and then you take off again and fly home or keep going. Whatever. And I don't even know if it's arrogant to dream about that, or if it's somehow reckless or naive. But I mean, it's just like, hey, that's just awesome. I'm completely fascinated by it. Of course, I also love those beautiful landings you always see during top landings. It's just, I have a soft spot for aesthetics anyway.
I also have a real soft spot for beautiful things,
Beautiful, elegant takeoffs and those landings—when they go well, it's just fascinating. It completely fascinates me. And I do it often now. I mean, we landed in between yesterday too, and I'm doing it more and more often, and it feels so good. And it's like, I'm there, it's beyond gratitude, it's almost like a sense of disbelief where I think, wow, somehow I'm suddenly where I wanted to be. This dream of powering up, of taking off relaxed, not having that stress before the takeoff anymore, hoping everything goes well, and I don't know, just having that anticipation alone for the takeoff process, and then showing up with a certain confidence that you'll probably make it up there, and then you keep flying and somewhere you see a meadow and think, yep, it would be nice to land there now, and then you fly towards it.
I mean, yesterday I also flew in two, three times because I somehow thought it didn't feel right, and last time it felt good, and then you just keep going and then you're standing there on a meadow, and I still think that's just great.
Have you maybe just been flying a lot lately?
Yeah, we talked in our pre-talk about how we haven't flown that much this year. Yeah, I...
I said I haven't flown much because the weather has been so shitty. We didn't really talk about how much you've flown, but it seems to me—and this happens quite often, I've experienced it too—I had this "aha" moment a few years ago while flying in the terrain around here, where you're always soaring back and forth a bit, and then suddenly I realized my gut was saying, you have to go over to the opposite slope. Something was pulling me there. And then I flew over to the opposite slope and it just went up.
Where you normally wouldn't go—based on our conventional idea—you just soar on one side and don't fly to the opposite slope, so to speak, to catch the lee thermals. But it somehow felt like, you have to go to that spot over there now. And that was the first time I had that feeling like, hey, there it is, I'm flying now.
Yeah, somehow, I have a feeling for it, like, I think you have to go over there now, it goes up there. That doesn't mean it always works out like that, but for me, it was like a breakthrough in my head, where I realized I've reached a different level. I approach flying differently than before. I tried to explain everything. I can also explain well afterwards why it went up there or whatever. But it wasn't the rational decision of constantly looking at the terrain and saying, I'm putting it all together, that's it. Rather, it was eventually the point where I say, ah, now probably so much experience and other stuff have all come together that there was this breakthrough. Since then, I'd also say, since then I've flown differently. Maybe you had a moment like that too, where so much experience, so much experiential knowledge with the different things and exercises you've done and the courses you've taken and an SIV training and a cross-country flight course and other things, where you suddenly say, ah, now it's all coming together, where you say, bam, there's a basis there that I can just build on.
Yeah, that's so cool, because that point comes in through the back door. It's not suddenly there. Or maybe it is, it's suddenly there, but you don't see it coming.
And of course, I can't say exactly when it happened, but you're right, there were just a few moments this year that I think brought it all together. And I think it started with a flight in Bassano, where I was still out with Felix Wölk, and then I broke off from the group and actually flew a plan from a buddy of mine and was out on my own and actually managed to make it back to my car. And I think that was the first time I was out alone and that, well, it was probably just necessary, to see for myself that if I fly alone, nobody sees me. Then maybe nobody sees what kind of bad decisions I'm making or how I could have done it better.
I mean, if I fly with certain people now, yeah, I can see that all of this could be done even better. But it was still important to see that I can somehow do it or that I can somehow get somewhere. And in Switzerland this summer, it was like that again, I was out there completely alone and that was good for the head, yeah exactly. And that's probably—I don't know if more skills were added. I think the skills in terms of the technique and so on, there was probably already a lot of that, but it flipped a switch in my head and I think that was the difference.
What are you looking for in the air that you can't find on the ground?
Oh, Lucian.
So the first thing that comes to mind is the selection. I'm still fascinated by mountains, especially by rock faces.
One of my dreams is definitely that I'll be able to fly to certain peaks someday. So, it starts with us here in the Allgäu, with peaks that would theoretically be relatively easy to reach, and goes up to, I don't know, maybe the Finsterahorn or Aletschhorn or somehow, I don't know, whatever. So, flying to a four-thousand-meter peak is also a dream of where I want to go. I would just love to fly over the Schreckhorn.
And the other thing, I think, is already this mental challenge. I obviously like this struggle with fear or with overcoming it and with this little sloth inside me. I really always feel like I have this sloth inside me that just wants to lie down in the sun at the landing field and just wants to get to coffee quickly now. But at the same time, I also want to learn. And this challenge or this struggle, I find that somehow interesting.
What you're looking for, where do you find that most? I mean, what kind of flights bring you closer to that?
Yeah, those are... that's actually a bit against Ecki, Maute, and the like. Right now, it's the flights where I can fly away. Where I really rise together with this air and then fly somewhere else. And it's not about kilometers at all. I'm nowhere near the point where I'd be looking at kilometers. But still, getting a bit further. Then, I don't know, what...
having flown a certain route a few times now and then somehow adding a bit more or going a bit further next time. Or then also already knowing how, well, already seeing that you've gained some experience and now somehow already know the first three or four thermals and can then somehow, somehow fly through them relatively quickly and so on. So yeah, this game with the thermals and with flying further and also daring yourself more and another ridge further and another ridge further and seeing if it somehow works out or maybe it doesn't, but just trying it out, that's what appeals to me. And yeah, I still do glide paths, but not so often at the moment.
Can you still enjoy those?
Yeah, totally. Or is it
is it like, oh, that could have been something, and now I'm just standing here, so do you get annoyed too?
No, I did the last glides with my big setup, you know, the one I use for thermals, and I just like to practice some maneuvers with it too. From that perspective, I don't know if it still counts as gliding or soaring. I still like going out in the morning, though.
But yeah, if it's a day with thermals, I prefer to head up the mountain a bit later.
In your blog, Uli Gunde, and also partly in the podcasts, but even more in the blog, you told a lot of your climbing stories back then and wrote about your fear, but a lot was also about the topic of men and women on the rock. Does that work together? Or how can you as a woman succeed in such a male domain and so on? Do you experience something like that in paragliding too? That it's so, yeah, that paragliding is perhaps, from the numbers it's clear, but also from the mindset, a male domain, where as a woman you're somehow always faced with the challenge: hey, do I have to stand my ground here too, or can I find a feminine approach to flying as a woman?
Next big topic.
Yeah,
Well, I've found that it depends a bit, I think, on how you carry yourself or how much experience you have. But I already have the feeling that it does a lot of women—I think almost all women—a lot of good, especially at the beginning, to go with other women. Because, whatever it is, I don't know exactly what's different. It's, I think, well, it definitely provides the space to make decisions calmly and to talk about them calmly. I've just experienced it so often with men that you get to the launch site and before you've even put your pack down, you're lying there. And then the paraglider is already there and the decision has already been made that you're taking off now.
And then I always thought... I mean, the paraglider of the
...for others, the man's already there. He's already ready to launch and you're just looking around, something like that.
Exactly, because saying the decision is just, it's unfair to say, that men and women fly this way or that way... but I've just experienced that, I think, the decision—the flight decision—in men, so to speak, tends to be made significantly faster.
and with women, it often takes a bit longer. And they probably end up with a similar result. But it's stressful if you feel like it's not entirely your decision, but you also somehow don't have any more time to think about it. And yeah, if he starts there, then it'll work for me too. And most of the time it goes well anyway. And with today's gliders, I mean, yeah, with the Pi it doesn't really matter where you stand because it starts... I mean, you have to do a lot of things wrong. I've even managed to tear my ACL, but you have to do some pretty stupid moves for that. But yeah, it usually goes well. And that's how you learn it, and it's... that's stressful. And at some point, I felt like I had a year where I just had a lot of stress anyway
and I almost didn't dare to fly anymore because I was so afraid of making that decision. And yeah, that's just how it is. And of course, it wasn't any easier when someone who is much better was there, but you don't really...
Fear of the decision? What decision? This launch decision? Do I want to start now or not? But you were already at the launch site. It's not deciding down below whether I'm driving or walking up now, but you're practically already up on the mountain and then the fear was still there: do I actually really want to start or not?
Both. It's often been the case that I'd think, I don't really feel like making that decision up there about whether it's good or not to start, so I wouldn't even head up or walk up in the first place.
Exactly, of course you can say, yeah, you just have to make that decision up there. But there were just a few situations where I couldn't quite decide up there whether it was good or not. I mean, we just have a few launch sites where... Or that probably happens everywhere, where you climb up and think, hey, the wind is acting weird here. And then somehow everyone launches anyway.
Or they always say things like, "Yeah, yeah, it always goes that way," or "It's always been fine." And it's like, aha, okay, I'm already excited and I don't know, is this good? Does that apply to me too? Or is it just for you guys? So. And yeah, then I definitely started a women's group, Allgäuer Pilotinnen. And I went out with women quite a lot. And that helped me so, so much. And I see it with the others who are in that phase now, that it's just so good because you can talk about doubts so much and grow together because you motivate each other. I find that being motivated by a woman is something completely different than by a man.
It feels different somehow. Maybe it's just in my head. But when a woman tells me, "Hey, Erika, I think you can do this," then I can do it. And then I actually believe it. But if someone—if it's a man who tells me—then it's always like, yeah, I don't know if you can really assess me correctly right now. And yeah, it'll probably go well anyway. But I just, I don't believe you quite as much. Exactly. And now, I also really enjoy going out with men again because it doesn't stress me out anymore, because I just know when I want to start. And there are still some situations where I think, I don't know exactly if this is good, but I somehow feel like trying it out. And then it's my decision.
And there are still situations,
...where, funnily enough, I also know, like, yeah, I could probably do that, but right now I don't feel like it, and then I just let it go. Getting to that point is just such a gift. And that's what I wish for the women who are in this group. I mean, there are nearly 200 women now. They're not all in Allgäu, but that self-behavior, trust, that healthy self-confidence—I just wish that for everyone, but especially for the women.
In the group. The group means, do you have a WhatsApp group or what is it?
Exactly, yeah.
And how does the exchange take place? Or is it just, "Hey, I'm planning to go flying, who wants to come along?" And then five women just meet up somehow.
and then say, we're going up the mountain together and sitting down at the top to have a round of talk first, in order to reach a joint takeoff decision.
This group is totally magical. I mean, as a pilot, you're in various WhatsApp groups—there are the clubs, then some other groups, and then in my case, there's also this group for female pilots, and it's just amazing what kind of exchange takes place there and with what kind of appreciation and respect people treat each other. There are no stupid questions. Every question is answered, and by several women, and in such a very, yeah, helpful, wonderful way. And it also happens again and again that certain questions are posted in different groups, and it's just always so crazy to see, yeah, how it works in our group. It's so lovely.
So it's also a lot about equipment and recommendations for flight areas or SIV training. And we actually already had an SIV training just for women in October, and yeah, next year there will be many others anyway. So it's not just about our group, but there are just going to be a lot of offers next year, SIV trainings just for women. Exactly. And of course, yeah, there's a lot of searching for flight partners, although I already have the impression that it's just a stepping stone. Like, someone will ask two, three, four times, and then that person has somehow found their buddies and then they leave. And I also hesitated for a while because I thought, huh, that's totally unfair to the others who are just joining now or something.
But I think that's just the way things go. And it wasn't any different for me. I don't post in there all that often anymore when I'm in the... I mean, when you go together, because of course that always takes longer because you just get so caught up in talking. Exactly.
Is this appreciative communication, as you call it, something you'd say is generally typical for women? Would you find that in other sports with similar groups? Or is it something where you'd say, no, it's somehow this flying and this lifting off the ground and feeling this freedom—something that's still somehow special compared to the more down-to-earth stories, let's say, where you then also seek a different, now a bit of a high-flown word, a more ethereal way of communicating?
I have to say, no, it's not getting that philosophical. No, that's—well, I've seen that with the climbers, there was a group there where it was exactly the same. So I don't know what it would be like if you had a sport where there are a lot of, I mean, where more women do it, if it might be a bit different there, if there might be some kind of pettiness or something, I don't know, but I don't think so. So yes, in the male-dominated mountain sports, women are also used to being kind of mocked or not taken seriously, which I always find so annoying when, well,
...or when men come along and try to explain something to you that you didn't want explained at all, or that you already know yourself, or that you're simply not interested in. And I think when women like that get together, there's maybe a bit more love in the room than in a sport where there are already so many women, where the experience is different. But I think the way women interact with each other is often just very, very considerate.
Well, it's nonsense to categorize men and women in such black-and-white terms. And there are certainly men who, or there are certainly women who, have a very boyish approach mentally, and men who, from that perspective, have a more feminine thought structure,
Soul carousel, soul building network, or something like that. Do you have men in the group who say, "Hey, I feel you, I don't actually see you sexually, but in terms of the mental world, I feel much closer to that." I find that, I get that. You have something great, but I would... that's actually exactly what I'm looking for.
Yes, I know, that's the feedback I get so often from men who want to join as well. And the vast majority of them actually mean it the way you just said, in that they'd just like to be in a group where you're allowed to be defensive, defensive, and maybe even a little anxious. At some point, out of a bit of annoyance, I founded another group where everyone is allowed in. Those are the Allgäuer Genussflieger.
It's a bit clunky, but it was kind of a quick decision and we didn't want to make it "Genussfliegerinnen" or something like that. Yeah, and then it was just like, okay, I don't know of a better name right now. I'll just call it that for now. And the group is still called that. And the interaction there is already completely different. Yeah, yeah, that's nice. And I see it that way too. This division between women and men, it's not fair. That's what I struggle with again and again. But it's just the best option I could give right now. I mean, if we open it up to men now, the group dynamic would definitely change. And I don't want that. This must remain a safe space for women.
But yeah, there's still this alternative group in Allgäu at least. If someone wants to join, they're welcome to message me. And the exchange there is very, very respectful. Questions are answered very, very thoroughly. Yes, exactly. And what I wanted to say, or what's just important to me, is that this distinction between women and men just doesn't quite hold up. I actually find it discriminatory towards men, who also enjoy being in a group like that, because... I can understand that men feel the exact same way and that men often have the same topics. But it was the best thing we could do.
Well, you're flying with women. You say that lately you've been flying with men more often again.
Men and women might make launch decisions in a slightly more stereotypical way. Would you say that you can tell while in the air whether it's a woman or a man out there? Do you fly differently when you're out with men than when you're out with women? Not at the launch site, not what's being discussed there, but when you're also alone in the air, but you know, I have Katja as a buddy or something like that, or a Thomas. Is there a difference?
I have to think about that for a second, because lately I've just been out there alone quite a bit, or just sort of loosely. I mean, I knew that this guy or that friend, this girl or that girlfriend, was also in the air right now.
It's not really about that anymore. I think it's more about man or woman. It's about how well these people fly and how well they say they fly, or the knowledge that they fly well. I mean, if I'm out with Christgeist, yeah, it's clear to me that he knows he flies well and that he does fly well, and that I can't necessarily keep up with him and his Omega. And it's also clear to me that he can just climb much faster because he's simply better at it. I don't know if that has much to do with the glider. And yeah, it's often the case that I think, well, I don't necessarily have to do everything you do, because I'm not some kind of aggro, whatever he is, World Cup winner or whatever. So with him, it's more like I think, better just do my own thing.
And with the other women I fly with, they fly so much better that I can't really use them as a reference anymore. It's just hard to say because I don't fly with that many people. I think with women, who are unusual, so roughly at my level or with a bit less experience, I tend to think that if it gets a bit bumpy, you'd rather say, "Come on, let's go grab a coffee." And I can imagine that men, so to speak, would rather say, "I want to learn this, I want to push through it a bit more. We're already here, we should make use of it now."
Yeah, but those are all such clichés, I can't really answer those very well.
Alright, let's drop the man-woman topic for now. In your social media posts—Instagram, Facebook, wherever you're active—there's a word that keeps coming up that always makes me smile when I read it. It says, "I've escalated again." That's like one of your favorite words.
Yeah, I can, yeah.
What does escalating mean to you?
Well, oh, how should I describe it? Well, I think, yeah, mostly it's like I have some idea and then I want to go full-throttle right away. For example, I've been doing watercolors for a long time. And recently I had this moment where I thought, I have to try acrylic painting now. Because I saw some picture where I thought, man, how could someone paint that, until I realized it wasn't watercolor at all, it was acrylic. Then I thought, okay, I have to do that too, I need that, I have to do it now. And then I think any normal person would just buy some student-grade acrylics and maybe some cheap canvases and just try it out a bit.
But no, of course I have to go out and buy like ten colors and seven brushes and everything right away. I mean, I buy a lot of that second-hand nowadays. But yeah, it's just like going all-in immediately. Instead of just dipping my toes in to see if it's something for me, and then growing into it slowly. Or I mean, at some point I had the idea that I have to do gravel biking and I have to do bikepacking. And then I immediately got all the bags and the bike and then three weeks in Scotland and everything, where you'd say, yeah, don't you want to gather some experience first? But funnily enough, especially with cycling and painting, it's like I have no fear at all.
Or with self-employment. It's just so bizarre. With that, it's like, I feel like doing it, I'm going to do it. And unfortunately, I don't feel that way with flying or climbing. I don't know why.
So you mean you've never lost control while flying?
I can't imagine.
So yeah, regarding the equipment. Now, it sounds like I could afford all of that. The problem is, I just can't afford it. So I'll have to get that from somewhere else. Or I'll have to sell some other things from the previous escalation. The
dark sides of the escalation.
Exactly, yeah. I mean, if I could afford all of that, just simply,
then it would be something different again. But I don't think what I'm doing is entirely sensible. I think that's what I mean by escalation. And when I'm flying, I sometimes escalate because I somehow think, I need a different harness or something now. And usually, it's always really, really fast. Like right now, too. Or I bought another harness a few days ago. Because I somehow thought, this is so much better. And in a few days, I'm off to India. And that's, I think, something you maybe shouldn't necessarily do. Changing the equipment again just shortly before a long trip. But it just feels so good. But when I'm flying, I think the fear of escalating limits me a bit. So I'm also thinking right now about what an escalation would be. It would probably be an escalation to pack food for four days now and then say, and now we're off.
Now I'm flying somewhere east or west. Or I don't know where.
Or I start getting into agro-flying and somehow buy four SIV trainings in a row or something. I don't know, that might be a kind of escalation. That hasn't happened yet. You never know.
Just fly east or west for four days. You said you're not sure about the cardinal directions. Maybe you'd just end up flying in circles. But no matter how. Have you ever done something like that? I don't mean flying in circles, but actually saying, hey, hike and fly as a trip? No. You're a traveler, as you say. I'll ride my gravel bike through Scotland for three weeks or something. And you'd say, hey, I'm combining my fascination for flying with my fascination for hiking, mountaineering, and all that. And actually do it like a small expedition.
I had those plans back in the phase when I was still naive and thought I could land anywhere.
So, right now I can't imagine that at all. That's, yeah, the point. So so many things come to mind where I'd say that's somehow too much risk, too many unknowns, too much stress as well. I'm noticing that more and more. I don't really like combining mountaineering and paragliding anymore because I just find it stressful. So instead, I'd rather descend about 1,000 or 2,000 meters before I fly east. Because I have a heavier backpack and then the stress of having to get to the launch site quickly and hopefully everything fits there. And yeah, I've also just experienced that the decisions you make after such tours,
...aren't particularly smart or sensible. Because of course, for example—or well, I've never started from Mont Blanc, but I already think to myself, it was always the idea of whether you don't hike up Mont Blanc in one day and then fly down. But honestly, the conditions up there would have to be really shitty for you to say, okay, it's not happening, we're hiking back down. I think people just make decisions up there that are so risky. And I just don't feel like dealing with that stress anymore.
So, just making that decision at all, when I imagine it, that decision. You know that you're actually supposed to fly down, that everything is planned. It would be, I mean, like 20 minutes of gliding versus five hours of hiking down, when you've probably already hiked up for eight hours anyway.
And then you try it anyway, don't have a very good feeling about it, and just hope that it works out well this time too. And no, no, no, no, no, no.
That means, if you go flying today, do you already know beforehand that the conditions are good? Like, do you check the weather and everything else to say, "I'm actually only looking for the days where I know I can take off relatively without fear"?
Yeah, yeah, yeah. So that's also the only thing I always hope for when I'm heading up. I don't hope for a good flight or a long flight or anything like that. I just hope for a headwind. Everything else that comes after that is just the icing on the cake.
Yeah. Exactly. And during the weather briefing, I'm so defensive that I often haven't gone if it looked like there would be a lot of wind at altitude or something. And I'm becoming a bit bolder now. But I really want to. So that's what I meant by I'm still defensive. I just don't fly in high winds because I just have some respect for it. Yeah. I
I've been thinking about whether I should bring up another topic. I'll just go ahead and do it. You said you'd like to fly over the Schreckhorn. Why?
So, I've dedicated quite a lot, quite a lot of years of my life to mountaineering and a lot to alpine climbing, and I had a climbing partner with whom I grew a lot, very, very much. I was out with her very intensively for actually five years, and we were on a very similar level. We were able to get scared together wonderfully. We were able to motivate each other wonderfully. I remember so many pitches where, I don't know, I was leading and it was actually going relatively well, and then she came up after and said, "Wow, I could never have led that. Never ever. That was so scary." And then in the next pitch, where she was leading, it was exactly the opposite. So we were just, we were, we were, we were on such a super cool, equal level.
And she was, it was just always a good time. She was always up for any kind of shit. Whether it was getting up in the middle of the night to go somewhere or, I don't know, doing a super long ski tour because that peak looks like you could ski down it or something. And it was exactly with her that I was on the Schreckhorn in 2020, and we were moving without a rope because we were just good with the terrain. It was a fantastic climb. It was fantastic rock and it was just perfect. We had an amazing sunrise. We were moving quickly. We were great on time. We had super good conditions.
It was just, it was just perfect. We were laughing. We were also panting a lot because, of course, we weren't acclimatized, but we were, we just had a great time and about, I think, 200 meters below the summit. Yes. There's this shoulder there and I was practically standing on the shoulder and she was just coming up and was standing with her chest like, yeah, on a ledge still, so she was standing there and just looking over this rock. And at that moment, there was a thud and I couldn't quite place it and I still heard a whistle and then I saw how a stone, a single stone, a small one, so it was about, not that big, yeah, about the size of a kiwi maybe. It hit her in the chest and knocked her backward and then she, yeah, now we're getting to the direction, I think it's a northwest face, she fell completely down.
So she fell out of my field of vision and I didn't see her fall anymore, but exactly, the helicopter that came later and did the first search circuit at my altitude turned around after that first circuit and flew 400 meters further down. And it did the next search circuit there. And then it stayed there.
And that was, well, I, yeah, they flew me out of there by helicopter, which means I was never at the summit; I can't even imagine climbing up there anymore, no matter who I'm with, I just have no motivation for it at all. But back then, I already thought it would be very, very beautiful and probably also very emotional—I almost have to cry now—to look back on that. And I don't know if I... I mean, back then it was clear that I couldn't do it because of my technique, from a flying perspective, and maybe even better in a tandem, but by now I think I fly well enough that I could fly there. And I actually was in Grindelwald this summer; I fulfilled my dream of at least flying in Grindelwald once.
Yes, I took quite a bit of time with that and then, well, I was able to build up some good momentum on the other side and then at least flew over it, just sort of approaching it a bit. I didn't fly over it for long, but it was, that was the first step towards it, and of course, I was looking at that west face the whole time, and it's just, it's still such a fantastically beautiful mountain and I already have the dream of making it one day, of flying over it, yeah.
Is flying—this idea of flying over that peak—would that be your way of saying, yeah, that's my mourning process? Or some kind of mourning work? Am I flying over that peak with Lena, or what, whatever it is?
I don't think it's necessarily about processing grief. I think I've already found my way with the grief. I think it would be more of a sign of gratitude. I'd just like to visit her again. I mean, of course she's not up there anymore, but for me, that's the place where Lena still lives in my heart somehow, and I actually do come to Grindelwald every year. And usually on the day of the fall, and it would be a visit to her. Just to say hello and show her that she's fully in my heart and that I think of her a lot, and that I'm just so grateful for the time we had. Exactly.
That fear you had while flying for a few years, maybe with not wanting to take off or something like that, could that also be related, or would you say that's what happens on the rock, what you experience during the climbing? Yes. The fear you have then is actually completely different. So it's like two different channels of fear because the triggers are different.
No, they're the same. I think the fear of the fear is always the same. It's the same thing, I believe. But now, it doesn't necessarily—I mean, it has nothing to do with Lena's fall. It's just that we were always aware that it could happen. We did the tour we took before in memory of Ralf Ganzhorn. He was also a colleague of mine who fell. He wrote a guidebook, and this tour was in it, so we did it sort of in his memory, and we even talked about it during the ascent—how it would be like to be hit by a rock and then fall. So we already knew that it happened or could happen. This fear I have there, I think, as I said, it's not fear, it's a fear of the fear.
And that was always there, I mean, it was there even before 2020. I think that in the year when I didn't fly as much, or when I didn't fly at all, which I think was 2022, it was simply due to stress. I see that with others often too, where they suddenly don't dare anymore even though nothing actually happened, and then you get a bit hard on yourself because you think, "Huh, but I always did that, and I have to, and I always have, and everyone else is doing it too."
For me, it was completely stress-related and my body, that's how I explain it to myself, just knew that this is just more stress and that this is something that should be avoided.
So he actually took care of his emotional health too. You mentioned earlier that you tore your ACL when you started with the Pi.
No, let's not talk about the dark side. No, me
I'm just interested in whether that might also cause a kind of starting block, if you know. Actually, with one stupid step you could tear your ACL and then I wouldn't be able to fly at all, and now I'm not flying anymore because you could tear your ACL.
Yeah, so I have to admit, I definitely don't start anymore if you could ground handle in the other direction, and I generally don't start with a tailwind anymore. Even with... I can already tell, it's haunting me, I mean back then I was just... I was completely stupid and took off with way too much tailwind, and there was snow on top of that, and then I jumped over an edge hoping that the glider would hold or carry, and it just didn't carry, and then I just landed full-on on this leg. But it's true that when there's a bit of a tailwind, I can already tell that the accident is haunting me a bit, yeah.
But I think that's also normal and it's also okay. I mean, I don't know, yeah, so I just consistently don't launch anymore if there's anything... two km/h more from behind, and that's a good rule for me. Of course, it doesn't matter if you're then somehow hiking down 800 meters here or there and driving home. That's why I maybe really don't want to do these hike and flies, these alpine hike and flies, or these combinations with mountaineering and stuff anymore, because I'm afraid I'd try it again, because I just don't want to hike down. Exactly, so yeah, the accident
keeps me from doing that. Then there is
this two km/h limit
it falls into place. Then
is that just
And you say, okay, I think there are only two, even though you know there are seven. I'll still be able to run it. What about the standing start?
I find that ultra stressful. I haven't done it that often, but yeah, I might have to do it again now, but you clip in and then into the skis and then some line or something from the backpack gets caught somewhere or something. And then, if it doesn't fail properly. If you don't get up fast enough or if you don't pull up fast enough, and yeah, I'm not really a fan of that.
I just recorded a podcast with Peter von Kenel, who was also at the X-Peaks, and they started on skis in the mountains relatively often, at least in the first part. Often with a tailwind, and I found that interesting too—he didn't mention it in the podcast at all, he describes it elsewhere. They really pull up against the slope, like ground handling backwards, and then stand with their skis across, drive slowly across the slope, and then turn very slowly into the slope, but they turn the glider so slowly while doing that, and then they pick up speed, and with skis you can pick up speed very nicely, so let's say, then starting with a tailwind isn't a problem at all and it's almost easier to start with a tailwind once you've mastered the technique than with certain skis.
In other wind conditions, where you'd basically have to pull forward while standing on your skis, where that doesn't work quite as well. So from that perspective, maybe that's something you can escalate.
Yes, I'm careful with those kinds of comparisons with people who have different skills.
Erika, let's get to the end. I have one more question for the end. I actually wanted to ask you about Uli Gunde, but you took that off the table right at the beginning. So, I have another question now where I can still manage to circle back to the start. Did you expect a question from me that didn't come? You always have these ideas about what the other person might ask, right? Like, what should I mentally prepare for or something? Is there anything where you said, "Lucian might ask me that," but he didn't ask it at all?
I might have thought you'd ask me about some highlights of my flying career from my perspective. Did you?
You've already described it, though, without that specific example of when I landed on grass blade XY at the Kampenwand or something. But to describe highlights, where you say you've experienced a breakthrough this year and can now take off and land wherever and whenever you want. I think that's a very nice highlight to have in a flying career.
Yes, definitely.
What highlight would you have? Next?
Next?
So, I would—this isn't a highlight, it's a basic requirement—I'd like to come back from India healthy. Like I said, I'm flying to India soon and yeah, I want, I'd like to just feel comfortable flying there. Yeah, so I'd like to feel comfortable in the air for a bit longer. Right now, I still have this, yeah, after two or three thermals or... Yeah, like, then I either run out of plans and then I think, ah yeah, come on, that's actually enough now, we've really pushed ourselves quite a bit, we could slowly go land now, we've pretty much proven everything. And that, yeah, it would be nice if I really just enjoyed being in the air longer in India without it being much of an effort or having to talk myself into it, but simply because I feel like it.
But that's actually, I don't even know if that's so important. I just want to feel comfortable in thermals. I want to have a good time, I'd like to circle with vultures or eagles again. I'd really like to land there again a bit if the opportunity arises, or maybe have some bivouac gear with me. But on the other hand, it's also just very clear, India isn't really the place to, well, it's not the place to land somewhere as a non-pro. Because I mean, there's just no rescue chain, and that's what's always in the back of my mind. But yeah, and on the other side stands... the dream of going bivouac flying again, in a small area, so not like, at the very back or something, but just having the bivouac gear with you, landing a few ridges ahead, staying overnight, and taking off again the next day—that's, that's already nice.
Good.
May it be so. You'll probably be on Insta, and I'll be able to read it whether you're going off the rails somewhere or just not, but have landed somewhere beautifully. It's really nice to be able to read along and keep up with that.
That's just a tiny snippet of what you're seeing there. I'm barely on Instagram anymore. But yeah, we'll see. I might post a bit more when I'm in India.
If you were to get many more clips, you just can't keep up with everything the other people are doing. So, keeping it brief but being present with highlights is actually quite good.
Okay, for you, Lucian.
Wonderful. I'm looking forward to it and... Yeah, have a good time and thanks for the talk.
Thanks for the interview.
That was Podz-Glidz episode 147 with Erika Dürr. You can find her blog and podcast online under the name Uli Gunde and on all the usual podcast platforms. Podz-Glidz is the podcast of the paraglider blog Loglite. I present a new episode every two weeks. If you don't want to wait that long, feel free to browse the archive. Over 150 hours of interesting conversations about the cosmos of paragliding can already be found there. On Loglite and also everywhere there are podcasts. As a freelance journalist, I invest a lot of time and work into Podz-Glidz and Loglite. However, that's only possible if my listeners and readers support me financially. Are you already on board?
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