Crashing on Tarmachan

Gordon Proven

Tarmachan looked crisp and clear as we drove up to the dam between Tarmachan and Ben Lawers to have a look. Midwinter Paragliding in Scotland is tricky and we could see snow and ice blowing off the jaggy tops of Tarmachan in a strong SE wind; too fast for paraglider flying, so we decide to look for a calmer site. Gordon Mc. finds a sudden need to dump some ballast and as he disappears over a hummock we meet the boys just arrived from Edinburgh. They persuade us to try flying the lower ridge in front of Tarmachan. We relent and start up the hill with our giant paraglider packs on our backs. Hillwalkers can't understand why we are dragging such huge rucksacks up the hill.

The wind on the low ridge is fine 16-18 mph; so we take off. After a bit of ridge soaring we decide to cross to the next ridge West and head along the glen.

I am trying out my ingenious solution to my problem reading the flying instruments and GPS mounted on my lap top reserve parachute; being 56 my near distance sight needs help. I have glued narrow plastic 2x reading lenses into the bottom of my sunglasses. I can read my instruments fine. What I don't realize is I can't focus on the ground!!

Some of us get across the valley, but some go down, so we who are still airborne cruise the Tarmachan ridge waiting for them to re-launch and catch up.

Cruising back and forth on the ridge of Cam Chreag I was feeling smug as I rose effortlessly above climbers on Meall Garbh; when suddenly I was flying backwards toward a split in the ridge just to the East of the peak. A paraglider flies quite slowly, but has a foot operated speed bar which tilts the wing down by pulleys and gives you about 55kph. Speed bar full on and pressing hard I was still being dragged backwards to possible death. Once a paraglider gets into turbulent air it collapses and plummets earthward, and there was certainly very turbulent air behind the ridge!

Now with no chance of escaping, the best bet was to turn and fly over the mountain trying to keep as high as possible to get over the back. I turned 180 degrees and was now doing over 120kph through the ice blown rock pinnacles. But almost as soon as I turned, turbulence hit me and the Glider collapsed; dropping me like a stone. Strangely enough I felt calm. The Glider snapped back out and was flying again. Behind the South ridge is a hollow with another lower rocky ridge to the North; which I was obviously not going to clear. The glider collapsed again, and again snapped open and flew after another 100ft drop. When I was flying and not plummeting, I decided to steer as best I could to avoid the rock pinnacles and aim for Snow. There is a small frozen Loch which I tried to miss in case of an Ice Ducking. After several more collapses and bouts of almost controlled flying I arrived abruptly during the last collapse on a slope of hard snow, just missing a rock face West of Tarmachan.

I must have been stunned for a bit as I woke up being dragged by my Glider down a frozen burn towards the North cliff edge. Adrenalin and a bit of panic then enabled me to grab the lines to one side of the glider and tame the Cresta run. I then found I could not get up as my left leg had gone solid and straight, presumably from the sudden landing. So I lay and contemplated what a marvellous Glider I had (an Ozone Vibe) in an inferno of snow and ice whirlwinds. Then another glider came collapsing through the same gap in the ridge, he made a better landing than me on the frozen Loch without breaking through. I dragged myself toward him and we helped each other stuff our gliders into our backpacks in the terrible wind driven ice storm below the ridge. Then he promptly hiked off, leaving me hardly able to stand, never mind walk. I tried to contact my mates by radio and Mobile; neither worked; too much rock in the way. I sat down and checked my rations; two cereal bars and some water; I ate these while massaging my leg. After half an hour I could get up.

My paraglider kit weighs 23 kg so walking back over Tarmachan seemed a bit daunting, so I decided to see if I could launch again from the ridge. Staggering up to the edge it was obviously impossible, far too much wind and too spiky for launching anyway. So I started the long walk back over Tarmachan. Slow and painful, it took 3 hrs to get back to our original takeoff ridge. One pal David had hung around to see if I was alive. It took us half an hour to untangle my glider lines; there are over a hundred fine Kevlar lines. I was determined to fly down the rest of the way as my leg was not walking too well. I took off feeling more nervous than when collapsing at the top, and it was only when landing near the car that I realized I could not see the ground with my magic specs.

Just as it was getting dark we burst into the pub at Killin to find all my mates enjoying a beer. I asked them if they had noticed my disappearing act; yes they had, but had carried on along Glen Lochay when they heard nothing on the radio, shame to waste a good cross country! They reckoned if I was dead they could do nothing, and if alive; if I did not get back before dark they would call the police!

And we're still mates!