Saturday 27 August 2016 - Big Collin

Attending the club barbecue, organised by Phil Barron, at Benone was the plan. So, with a forecast SE wind it seemed that a flight at Big Collin before heading north would be a good start to the day. Hardly had the thought occurred to me than I got a text from Dermot Lagan who was already on site and reporting soarable wind. When I got there, Dermot could be seen ground handling at the top of the hill whilst at the bottom, Ken McConnell was busy instructing a student in the same art.

When I got the top the wind was slightly off to the East and varying between 14-16mph. I took off and got sink followed by lift followed by sink but, working the lifty bits, I managed to gain 100ft only to lose it again and did a slope landing just below the top.

The wind had picked up a bit and was now around 18mph most of the time with the odd slight lull. I took off again in one of these lulls into conditions that were a lot more boisterous, with lift well out towards the farm upwind plus associated sink. I managed ten minutes before I decided that I was not enjoying this very much and went down and landed near Ken and his student after a bit of a roller coaster approach.

Dermot wisely decided he did not want chucked around like that so he walked down and, after a chat with Ken and his student, I headed to Benone to join the party.

BARBEQUE

Well - what can I say! Phil Barron, his good lady wife Louise excelled themselves in laying on a barbeque, helped by a few friends, that would be hard to beat. A large gazebo with an extension had been constructed on the beach in case of bad weather and for sleeping accommodation if needed. Those who arrived early were treated to Phil's famous stews, brewed up on a gas burner while the barbeque was being fired up. The recipe for the stews is his trade secret so no point in asking, but taste delicious. Boxes of burgers, bags of baps, lettuce, tomato, onions, sauces, disposable bowls, plates, glasses etc were all there waiting.

Gradually more people started to arrive bearing bags of logs and wood offcuts, booze of various sorts and a firepit consisting of an old washing machine drum was lit. This worked extremely well and kept us warm well into the small hours of Sunday.

  Once Gavin's big barbeque was ready, a steady stream of burgers, topped up with sauces etc started disappearing into baps and down hungry throats.

While all the preparations were going on, Al, Walter and Rory were zooming round the area on their paramotors. Gradually as the evening wore on, some people drifted away - particularly those who had children along or who had children at home to go back to. That left a hard core group huddled round the firepit, lashing back the drink and talking rubbish. One or two seemed to have a wee bit of a balance problem at times.

Dee down!

Strangely, the talk did not come round to paragliding until well after midnight. After 1:30am we were joined by four ladies from the nearby campsite who had decided to go for a run on their bicycles along the beach in the middle of the night. Like moths to a flame, they were attracted by the glow of the firepit and the waffling bodies gathered round it. After a bit of banter they left and the rest of us drifted off to sleep in cars, tents, vans or wherever around 3:30am.

Some five hours later, those of us who had stayed close to the action, helped to dismantle the gazebo, clear away the rubbish and generally leave the beach undisturbed.

Since the wind was on the hill, Dermot Lagan and I went up to takeoff. Wind was around 14-16mph with occasional gusts to 20mph. Since we were both semi-knackered from the late night and little sleep we thought it best to give flying a miss and headed home with our memories of a cracker event.