By : Howard Travers

On the 1st of January, I left the UK to fly to Australia to chasing a dream of flying cliffs never before flown with a paraglider. With no bottom landing, sharks, hundred of miles from medical help and very strong unpredictable winds, normally dangerous for flying a paraglider, I attempted and flew the longest unbroken cliffs in the World. In so doing I broke 3 new World records.

Leaving the relative safety of the UK, I bought an old car and headed West from Melbourne into the coastal desolation of the Nullarbor Plain. I have never experience a contrast such as working in the City of London and that of the complete isolation of one of the most under populated and barren areas of the world. 6,000 kilometres and two 2 months later, I realised my dreams.

In reality it all started on the 1st January, but then it reality didn't sink in until the second leg of my Emirates flight to Singapore. It suddenly hit me that somehow the last 2 months of events, decisions, coincidences and new opportunities had somehow put me here (and upgraded to Emirates Business class as well!). It seemed so much like a dream, but then it was.

Years ago in the pioneering times of early paragliding, I decided to concentrate on my job rather than follow my heart and fly. It's not to say that I didn't enter the competitions, fly in the British Championships and travel to many different countries, but I never really concentrated on it. You wonder as a result what might have been. When your friends and fellow competition pilots travel down to Kuruman in South Africa for the winter in 94/5 & 6 and return with new records (Kat Thurston, Richard and Guy Westgate, Chris Dawes & Judy Leden) it makes you wonder, could I have done that - I always believed so. It may sound like regret, it isn't. I did at the time exactly what I wanted to do, and to that extent feel I played an important role in the organisation and development of paragliding in the UK.

So here I am in my 11th year of paragliding wondering how events had got me here. So as the realisation hits me between the eyes, I find myself being dragged helplessly into the 'jetlag Zone' - d da d de d da d de. It is all catching up with me. The unrelenting Christmas festivities, the frenetic organisation of getting together all the Equipment (Sup’air harnesses / Apco dual, safety equipment) and of course celebrating New Year Eve, (thanks Nick & Michelle).

The next few days in Melbourne are hazy but productive. Again co-incidence or just good luck plays a big hand. I need a car. I'm about to travel thousands of kilometres into the great Australia Bight and hiring a car is not an option, way too expensive. Buy one everyone said. So what do you buy? At the time I was at a loss but by chance Steve Senior gave me a copy of his new Cross Country magazine. Unread and by complete accident, 2 weeks later it opens up to give me a guide to flying and travelling around Australia. It recommends a circa 1982 Falcon or a Holden (what's a Holden? - looks like a Vauxhall to me). So here I am by chance in a hostel, looking at the board for a car when a new poster is put up, a Holden 82. Reasonable price, good engine and has 4 important features.

1. A roof rack for the Hang glider I want to borrow.
2. A decent stereo with tape deck for the CD adapter.
3. A cigarette lighter to power all the instruments and importantly
4. All the camping gear you would ever need in the back.

So now it’s Tuesday. I feel refreshed, have wheels and my paragliders. Plan now is to head north east for 4 hours to Bright to get my Australian license, meet up with some old friends and dust the cob webs off my flying.

It’s hot, dam hot. Melbourne has been hit with 39C - 41C. It’s great to feel warm, but this is more than my non-acclimatised body is used to. Water, water I cry. So with the car loaded with provisions I head north out of Melbourne. The four-hour journey to Bright is painful. It is a sweltering 41C. To add to my discomfort, it is the last day of England’s final Ashes Test, playing in Sydney. The heat is incessant and the batsmen, obviously suffering from the heat too, keep popping back to the pavilion and passing the wooden stick on to the next batter. Relay cricket I think it’s called.

Last time I visited Australia I saw England play and loose at the SCG. Now 4 years later it’s all happening again. I stop at the first Petrol station and its started like before. ‘How come you have 60 million squeezed into an Island the size of Tasmania and you can’t find 11 decent cricketers’ the attendant mused. ‘We’ve got some good bowlers’ I quipped, but it was all lost as the other getting petrol all join in. I get on my way quickly. Ahead in the distance I can see the sailplanes playing in a huge thermal associated with a massive fire. There isn’t a cloud in the sky yet the smoke clearly outlines the rising column of air. I wanted to be up there. I was even tempted to learn how to sail plane, one day.

Bright is a beautiful place, quite modern and touristy in the middle, but it’s very easy to escape into the tree covered hills, which surrounds it. That being in sharp contrast to the open plains that I had travelled through earlier. The reason for my visit was to get my Australian licence ($50 for 3 months - I had better not start on that topic!), make contact with the Australian HGFA and get FAI observer application forms, link up with some old competition friends and do a bit of flying. All but the flying bit happened.

It never ceases to amaze me how friendly and open our flying community is. Wherever you go, no matter what preference you have for flying machine, the reaction is generally warm and open. There were faces like Brian Webb, Heikka and Fred that I had expected, but Bright plays host to a cosmopolitan group of pilots including many other Europeans.

There had been a lot to sort out before the trip, gliders, harnesses, reserves and all the other paraphernalia that goes with it. Now for the first time I could start assembling the equipment ready for the record attempt. I had never seen nor flown the new APCO Futura 42sq/m Tandem which presented me now, although previous excursions with other tandems, discussions with other pilots had left me suitably impressed with its pedigree. On paper it had all the handling, speed and performance I needed.

I now need to fit the quick release carabiners. I have spent much time studying the options. The cliffs themselves are unbroken for over 200km (124 miles). Once on the cliffs I would be committed. Too little wind I would be in the sea with whales and white sharks and with no way out, but a difficult cliff rescue. Nikki Hamilton claimed her World records the year before but had just such an incident on her hang glider. She skilfully managed to land on large rock and then wait to be winched up with her hang glider still attached. She was very lucky.

This gave me some comfort that there would be a few rocks/ cliff falls leaving landing areas but having the ability to quick release the glider for a water landing would be important; just in case. The other option was that the sea breeze would build and build to a point where the glider just couldn’t go forward. If that happened and I couldn’t get back to the relative safety of the take off/landing zone, then I would slowly drift behind the cliffs. As a result I would need to get as much height as possible and run as far behind the cliff to escape the rotor which could easily put me in mortal danger. Either way to be able to loose the glider quickly could be a life saver or at very least avert serious injury.

So with all jobs done and the weather closing in I headed over the mountain to Mount Beauty and the base of the Bogong Cup. This hang gliding competition normally attracts large numbers however the fact that the Australian HG Nationals were being held in Perth, the other side of Australia, had sadly depleted the number of pilots to around 40. To add further disappointment a weather trough had decided to settle over the area and the prospect of flying was fast dissipating. Never the less here was a good excuse to talk to the pilots about Eucla. Rohan Holtkamp the undisputed expert and holder of numerous World records was there, however I never managed to meet up with him. There were others like Wes Hill who has flown there many times who provided invaluable advice tainted with some caution.

Undaunted I headed south over the pass and through the rain, wind and 14C towards Bainbridge. They say Melbourne can have 4 seasons in one day. I now understand why! Next stop Torquay, the surf capital of Victoria.

Good news - we won the first one day cricket match. I cheerfully headed to the petrol station to gloat and chastise the pump attendent. I happened to casually mention the cricket.... ‘We were robbed’ he cried. I should have known better. When Australians win, they were the best team. When they loose, they were robbed.

It has always amused and intrigued me that when it comes to naming convention the Australians apply a clear, obvious naming logic that is completely alien to the British who often try to complicate and obviscate (deliberately written to confuse). When driving along a beautiful 90 mile long beach, they call it 90 mile beach. If someone happens to spot a shark, they call it Shark bay and if they think the mountains are beautiful, they call it Mount Beauty.

Today's amusing word - What do Australians call a Strimmer (a grass/hedge cutting device that has a fast rotating head with a thin plastic fishing line cutting device) - answer---- a Whipper Snipper ---- brilliant! made me smile.

I feel the need, the need for speed cos it's going to be windy Week 2

Torquay is but a short drive down the freeway from Melbourne heading SW towards Gelong and then turn left as you get to the railway sidings. Torquay has all the appeal of a typical small English seaside town with two major exceptions. It’s generally warm and the surf is excellent. No wonder the town swells from 4,000 people to 20,000 in the summer and you have the home of Rip Curl and Quicksilver.

Here I was to meet some of the local paraglider pilots in a friendly C comp. At the appointed time on Saturday morning 33% of the local paraglider pilots turned up ­ two. It's quite sad how few pilots there are in this area especially as there are so many cliff & hill soaring sites along the coast. Loads of hang glider pilots - not so many PG. Saturday was very windy. So Rob a local instructor took us down the beach to try a new flying toy, all the rage in Hawaii evidently. It looks like a cross between a paraglider and a Kite with an inflatable leading edge and 3 inflatable battens. For only 5 sq. meters this two string Wipiki kite pulls. So much so it can skid you over the ocean like a beach ball in a strong breeze or (with more practice on my part) on a surf board. A real blast.

At last Sunday my chance to fly. Apco tandem out, Sup'air harness and reserve in place, passenger in front and we took off. Small cliff, lots of sand below and a nice breeze. It took 1 minute to get down to the beach. There surrounded by spectators many with little or nothing on, I proceeded to pack up. So confident was I of staying up I didn't bring my glider bag down. How come small cliffs with bushy walk ways never look so steep or high when you are at the top. Anyway it was all-good for the fitness ahhhhhh!

Monday it was flyable and I spent the morning seeing what top speed I could get out of the Airwave XXX & the Apco Futura tandem. I was basing my calculation on getting 55 - 60km on the XXX and 45 - 50km on the Futura.

My plan was to find a way of locking the XXX speed bar on a safe yet fast setting (I don't fancy holding it out for 3 to 8 hours. So I spend the first hour pushing the bar further and further out . Although the XXX glider has the Airwave reflex line configuration as it gets towards the end of the travel the pressure reduces and then it can quickly get a wing tip deflation. This is then followed by the other wing tip going and if you don't catch it quickly, by taking the bar off it, becomes … er …er horrible. One cravat later, a forced landing on the beach I found the point. That can't happen on the cliffs otherwise I’m shark meat!

Anyway I have spent the rest of the week travelling on the Great Ocean road. Beautiful scenery and some good flying. I may also have found my tandem passenger. Yes in the middle of Joanna beach close to Apollo bay I meet up with Harley, Wally, Moony and Kris. Initially I just took them flying for fun, later it transpired that they are spending the next month going on a surfing, caving trip and by complete coincidence planning to cave at Eucla. Nearly 2000km away from Eucla I find a passenger, an observer and a four wheel drive support vehicle all looking to stay at the same place as me at the same time. Coincidence? Fate? Good luck? Or all of the above. Either way it was a prayer answered.

Anyway all the logos are on the gliders and most of the equipment tested. I just need to visit Map world in Adelaide, borrow two radios from the local Adelaide school and get a remote release button for the camera. Plan is to head out from Adelaide on Monday 18th of January. Everything is going to plan

Continuing the theme of Australian naming conventions, I have found an anomaly. (The Australians always apply a clear, obvious naming logic to their country). One of the main tourist attractions along the Great Ocean road is the sight of the 12 apostles. These are stone pillars rising from the sea. You can't actually see 12 (7 in actual fact) and why are they called apostles, they don’t remind you of aposles. Then I found out the reason. In the early 50's the name was changed to make it more attractive in keeping with the landmark. It used to be called the Sow and Piglets.... What can I say!

The count down had truly begun. Fifty days after deciding to leave Blighty, I was on the verge of arriving at old Bighty (The Great Australian Bight). Certainly a far cry from my life working in the City. Here driving east along the Eyre Highway, the long straight road gave away nothing, but the occasional sign warning me to look out for Kangaroos, Possums and Camels. After every kilometre the little white sign on the side of the road counted down how far to the border, 252km; 251km. Border Village just 6 minutes drive from Eucla was my ultimate destination. Being the West Australian and Southern Australian Border all the maps and roads start there; 250km to the Border.

Neither the great Bunda cliffs or the Nullarbor Plain had yet started, but the landscape was changing. The Bunda cliffs stretch for 200km along the coast, unbroken by inlet, estuary or gap, to form almost the entire southern boundary of the Nullarbor National Park. Behind the cliffs there is …. nothing but emptiness. The Nullarbor Plain is so called because there are no trees (Latin - Null Arbor).

I felt great trepidation a knot in my stomach. Over 150 years ago when Edward Eyre made the first land crossing of the Nullarbor he wrote, "Distressing and fateful as the continuance of these cliffs might prove to us, there was a grandeur and sublimity in their appearance that was most imposing, and which struck me with admiration". Long words but you are struck in awe at this place

I had read the guides, scanned the Internet, explored the libraries, studied detailed maps (mostly showing ocean) bought the postcard, but I hadn't physically seen them yet or got the T-shirt. I felt the suspense like a terrible yearning. 237km to go. The wind is still very strong from the south-east. Strong wind warnings were issued until Friday. I would use today and tomorrow to finalise everything and prepare. Waiting and patience for the right conditions would be key. Patience was one of the things I really never had before I started flying 10 years ago. I hope, I had learned my lesson well as I would need it.

The road is so straight, I can drive with one knee while tapping away on my little Psion organiser, looking up every 2 or 3 keys to see if there might happen to be a car, animal or for real excitement a curve!

227 - I caught a glimpse of the sparkling white dunes of the bay.

224 - There they are again. These dunes to the east and the Delisser Sand hills to the west mark the boundary of the 200km cliffs, the longest unbroken section of cliff in the world.

220 - I waved at a car. Either side of the road the only vegetation that exists is the hardy trees and strong shrubs. We are not on the Nullarbor yet but the trees are becoming more widely scattered, more stunted and everyone bent towards the north, its windy here, the car is being blown off the road.

The good thing about the breeze is that it is keeping the car cool. The seat belt is rattling in the wind like the halyards on the rigging of a sailboat.

206km - Everything has just gone flat. Looking north there is nothing but wild grass and scrub. One, two, three, four trees, well large shrubs as far as the eye can see. It is such a big sky. As I travel west I look left and then right, I see nothing but scrub a big sky and a straight road ... and a sign to the head of Bight. Closed at the moment by the Aboriginal Community, but it is a favoured venue for whale watching from May to October. Evidently 60 or so Southern right whales and their calves come north from the Antarctic to breed in the relatively warm waters of South Australia. It can be 40 degrees and still the water is as cold as it is in the UK.

No sign of life. That is apart from the swifts in aerial combat with the flies (no shortage there!). It is midday and I guess only mad fools and English men only go out in the midday sun. I guess I qualify on both counts!

I haven't seen a great deal of wild life yet. The occasional lizard crossing the road and the crows which walk off the middle of the road where the carcass of one of the nocturnal animals have fallen fowl of the road train or by a car now probably displaying a big dent in it. It’s just so flat. 250,000 sq. km of limestone. One of the best examples of Karst scenery, complete with caves and blow holes. My geography teacher would have been proud of me, yet my English teacher may not have been so pleased reading this.

180 clicks to Western Australia. The turnoff to the cliffs will be soon. The actual cliffs start 28km from the border. For a 300 km out and return, the track to the 150km mark should be about now. 174km there it is. Long, straight and un-metalled. My trusty steed the 1982 Holden rumbles and bumps its way along. Its very un-nerving, it's still windy, very hot and there isn't a sole around.

I drive and realise that I'm nervous. I'm sitting up from my seat. When paragliding I would have a drink of water, I do the same and calm down, slightly. I'm wishing I had a 4 wheel drive car but saying it under my breath just in case the Holden can hear me. It's doing brilliantly. Suddenly in the distance the flatness of the shrubbery gives way to a border of blue. I'm close now very close. Wow - it's so lonely and desolated here. I park about 10 meters from the edge just at the start of the back wind rotor caused by the wind striking the cliff and rolling over it. I feel the sun on my back and walk eagerly now to the edge. I can see the large swells building, the whitecaps caused by the strong wind, taste the first spray and peer in wonder at the sheer grandeur of the cliffs, stretch as far as the eye can see.

Below the sea relentlessly smashes against the foundation of the cliffs benignly eating away the rock, as it has done for millions of years. The sheer up draught is extraordinarily powerful, yet step 3 meters back and there is hardly a breath. I pick up a small twig and throw it over the side. Without hesitation is catapulted high in the air and lands 30 meters behind the cliff. I try a larger stick, same again. I try a broken branch about the length of my arm and about as wide. It spins from my hand, hesitates in the up draught and then with some pain accelerates up an over my head. The power is awesome. I pick up a flat rock doubting the cliffs ability and spin it like you would on a flat lake into the breeze. The cliffs respond by picking it up and throwing it over my head landing a meter from my car. I got the message.

Now to find a turn point and marking the point on the GPS. I also get the windsock out to test the rotor in case I have to top land. I'll be lucky to get this far but that’s what dreams are about.

Everything done I start to follow the track along the cliff only to get almost bogged down in the sand. 15km from anyone I decide to return back the bumpy way.

Next stop 131km to the monument shown on the map. The car is feeling the journey. Something's wrong. I must check the tracking and the tyre pressure. Some cumulus clouds form inland - the first I've seen all day.

As I continued west I watched one of the true aviators of the Nullarbor, a large Wedge Tailed Eagle. It swooped low over the road and pushed forward towards the cliff only 300 meters away from the road at this point. Its' glide took it lower and lower, it flapped through the rotor and dived over the edge. No sooner had it disappeared from view it accelerated skyward with not even the slightest ripple of feathers.

Having investigated all the lookouts, marked out potential 200km and 100km turn points and the start of the cliffs I had had enough driving and excitement for the day. It was getting dark and my watch said 9:30 but that was probably wrong as I had passed into another time zone here. Either way I was tired, my eyes grew heavy I had to stop for the night. Up ahead in the distance I saw a flickering light... Border Village, my home for the next few weeks. (Talking about an Eagle made me think of the Eagles song but this wasn’t California).

There are a few things I should explain to ensure that you don’t get the wrong idea about Border Village and the BP Roadhouse as it says on the map. Border village is in the middle of nowhere! A large sign proudly shows as you arrive that you are 17,517km from London, 16,025 km from Berlin, 17,204 from Paris and 6,619km from the South Pole. As for the nearest Australian Cities, it is 1,462 km from Perth and 1,320 km from Adelaide.

Yes it does mark the border of South & Western Australia but as for a village it is not. It is just one big road house. Yes it has a motel, has dorms and camping. Yes it has a bar, shop and petrol station (at 95cents per litre it is 50% more than the normal price but still cheaper than Europe and especially the UK). However in my view 8 people running a roadhouse doesn’t constitute a village. It does however have a Quarantine check point so fruit flies look out. For most travellers it is just a place where they stop over night, fill up with petrol and have their vegetables fruit and honey confiscated. As for its name, the BP Roadhouse, Mobile took it over years ago however like the maps nothing has been updated since the mid 1960’s.

Eucla is the most well known roadhouse simply because it has a few more famous features and is the largest settlement on the Nullarbor Plain. Eucla boasts a service station, hotel, motel, caravan park, flying doctor base, an ambulance, a hospital and a police station. That said it is still very small and apart from the sign you could easily pass it on the road.

For only 11km apart and one small border they may as well be 200km apart like all the other road houses, they keep themselves very separate. They also have a meteorology station which is the most modern building there. It may be a Met station but in reality it is only a recording station. The weathermen are friendly and have the only real met information available, yet predictors they are not. Instead the reports from Sydney are what they use for prediction, and in their words ‘are less than accurate’. I guess some things never change wherever in the world you are!

Eucla is also famous for its telegraph station now disused and slowly disappearing under the mountainous white sand dunes. Eucla came into existence in 1877 as a manual telegraphic repeater station where messages were received and passed across a wall to signifying the border and re-coded. Cold & windy in winter and extremely warm in the summer I’m sure the staff were very relieved when in 1929 a new direct telegraph line was built. It is also famous for two consecutive plagues. Initially overrun with rabbits some entrepreneur decided to introduce cats to control the rabbits and the village was then overrun with feral cats.

While Eucla seems to get all the credit, the smaller Border village is the key place. It is smaller friendlier and has become the base for all the hang glider pilots and now for the first time paraglider pilots wishing to fly the cliffs.

Being so isolated, with not even a radio station to listen to you get the feeling that staying there will become a nightmare, because on the face of it there is nothing to do. It took me a few days to realise but this is a fascinating place, missed by so many who pass right on through.

I sat talking one evening to Val, one of the Quarantine officers. She explained that the people here were generally a strange breed. Some were escaping from the hustle and bustle of life, family, divorce and domestic problems. Most were sceptical of the place when they arrived but came to enjoy the remoteness and mildish climate afforded by the constant sea breeze. As for things to do; well the pay is evidently quite good, accommodation is thrown in and as she said there was ‘heaps to do’. Just disappearing north into the desert is amazing, catching fishing off the coast, exploring the coastline and dunes and of course exploring the many caves. There are some of the most famous caves in the world across the Nullarbor; Weebubby, Warbler, Koonalda and Cocklebiddy - and of course there are the Bunda cliffs.

It is now the 23nd of January and Harley, Wally, Mooney and Kris, the caving, surfing and my new found expedition team arrive. First step we go to find a missing turn point and then to Weebubby cave. I have never really been into caving before but what a joy. The limestone sink hole provides a cooler temperature from the hot surface and the cave just went down and down until it ended with a perfectly clear, yet slightly saline underground lake. Deceptively deep and the cavern had an eerie sanctity and has probably been frequented by ancient aborigines for thousands of years. Some scientists estimate it to be 40,000 years old. Of the two lakes one disappeared into the dark cave and with trust we dived into the icy depths. The surface of the water has a fine covering of dust which disperses as you touched the surface caused by the oil on your hands. We swam with lights off about 500m into another wide cavern. Quiet and alone except for the bats it is an amazing experience.

From everything I read one day in three would be flyable. From my arrival the normal SE winds were not to be seen. Easterly & very strong winds were all I could get for days. After travelling so far I knew I would have to wait, but it seemed so strange and unnatural.

High pressure cells dominate the ocean below Australia. There is generally one to the south west of Perth and one south east of Tasmania which influences the eather in the Australian Bight. Every so often these drift across and that would mean I have my chance. My immediate hope for an easing of the strong easterly was if the dominant low over Perth which was causing havoc in the Australian Hang gliding Nationals weakened and the high moved across giving south winds. Maybe tomorrow!

I had spent many days looking at the possible take off points. The hang glider pilots generally take off 10 kilometres away from the start of the cliffs on the low undulating ridge to the west, however my best chance would be try much closer to the start. Where the cliff ended it got lower and lower and had a slight hook out into the sea. Taking off on a cliff is very difficult and hazardous so a smooth hill close by the start was the ideal place.

Fiona Macaskill had tried to fly here the year before but had failed to get any lift or make it on the cliff. I too found the same problem as I took off some 200 meters from the western end of the cliffs. Take off was at 84 meters yet I did not get the lift I expected and the best I could get was 86m in a constant, reasonably strong, south easterly breeze. As I headed east towards the start of the cliff edge then I got the tell tale turbulence and the rustle of paraglider fabric telling me that rotor was not very far away. For over an hour I tried to work out a way onto the cliff but it was proving treacherous. I landed briefly and I explained the problem to my confused support team.

On my second attempt I decided to fly out forward to the lower front cliffs only 30 meters off the sea and to my amazement found that I was 85m high and level with take off. It is now that I find that wind is blowing very much from the ESE. With the sea crashing into the rocks below I head along the low cliff east into wind. Below I am watched anxiously by a sealion who is playing in the surf, concerned in case this big blue bird should swoop down and pluck him from the sea. I don’t know who was more anxious!

As I reached the corner of the cliff I was tempted to land and cleared the sharp limestone rock by just 3 meters. The lift was instantaneous. As if in an express elevator, I climb rapidly as I head towards the main cliffs to 190 meters nearly double the height of the main cliffs. I then head back towards from where I took off from, to photograph my start point. Parked 100m above take off it becomes all too apparent how lucky I have been and that I had taken off into some form of rotor wave generated by the wind tracking along 200km of cliffs.

The view was spectacular and all the better for being 100 meters higher than anything else on the horizon. The contrast between the incredibly level treeless expanse of the Nullarbor Plain and the cliffs so cleanly nibbled, as if an apple devoured by perfect teeth was spectacular. Away into the distance the sea bright blue, the surf boiling on the many rockfalls below the cliff and nothing but cliff as far as the eye can see.

I head east, my Davron 808 altimeter / Barograph showing me an air speed of 36km. My Davron was also connected to my Garmin GPS with my turn point shown to be 52.1 km away. Looking at the Garmin it suggested my speed towards the turnpoint (Velocity made good VMG) was 13 km and it would take me 4 hours to get 52.1km. That could never do as the current world record for 100km was just over 5 hours. On that basis I would not make it and I knew that the sea breeze will only pick up throughout the afternoon and I also knew that the cliffs have a long into wind section which would further slow me down.

I feel the need the need for speed. I lay back in my Sup’air Cocoon 2 harness, apply my speed bar to just short of maximum, take my hands off the brakes and tuck in to create the smallest drag. My air speed is now 56 kph and vmg 24km. I now settle in and admire the view with my legs stretched out pushing the speed bar for the next 3 and half hours. I can see the wind trails on the water, a few white caps and hear the smashing of water on the cliffs below. It is slow progress as I pick my way along the cliff edge. Steering is generally by weight shift although I am often surprised by changes in the wind speed and direction which are in great contrast to the generally smooth laminar flow of the air. It is however clear that the wind is picking up as progress is getting slower, down to 12 vmg at times, and the wind seems to be coming more and more from the ESE.

The next 2 and half hours were painfully slow. I was very comfortable in my harness but pushing the speed bar was becoming harder and I was thankful that the airwave glider didn’t have the pressure of most other gliders.

Deprived of the usual reference points they eyes scanned for manmade marks. To the north of the cliffs I could make out the long straight Eyre highway however but for the GPS and my ground crew sitting on the edge of the turnpoint it would have been easy to miss it.

Photos taken, I turned back towards my start point and watched in amazement as my glider accelerated along the cliff now travelling at over 60km per hour just 50 meters from the top of the cliff. I can see why speed hang - gliding is such a buzz. Having taken 2.5 hrs to do 52km I proceeded to cover the same distance in just under an hour.

104.2 km covered in 3 hours 36mins unofficially breaking the existing record by just under two hours. I landed feeling mentally and physically exhausted. My support crew were happy, helped me pack up but were impatient to go caving. So off we went 30km north into the bush and next I found myself abseiling 45m down an overhang cave entrance complete with dead kangaroos, who also went to have a look at Warbler cave without the aid of a safety rope. I slept well and very happy that night.