I opt for the wildly optimistic move. Aiming westward at a craggy pimple in the wide valley. I am hoping to get around the rising mass of trees and push on south, towards The Fort. A day that had started well was stabilising quickly. Clouds dissipate and a blue ceiling caps off climbs at a meagre altitude. The move is not going well. I scurry back to the ridge but it’s too late, I’m too low, the dirt beckons. Twenty-five k from launch and I’ve led out to the deck. What will the rest of the team do?
Gav had devised a simple plan yesterday. “Bring your vol-biv kit and we’ll camp at The Fort.” The Fort is a flat-topped mountain on the edge of the Border Range. Easy landing, adequate take-off opportunities for the following morning and about 40 kilometres south of our usual west-facing take-off. I haven’t got a ‘vol-biv kit’. I decide to chuck in a light down quilt, an army tarp in a natty...
