Dennis Childs – UK

Foreign Shores: India
Dennis Childs reports from the Western Ghats
Article appeared in Sky Wings magasine 2002

India is not one of the prime destinations for Europe’s paraglider pilots: and many who go there aim for the obvious target, the Himalayas, on the basis that biggest must be best. As a result they may miss out on some mellow flying that’s a little more accessible and certainly closer to the creature comforts (such as good cold beer) that most pilots expect. Though I’ve been flying for a number of years my airtime has averaged measurably close to zero each year (and was certainly heading that way in 2001, what with the weather and FMD). So what could be better when I could only take a holiday in November to go somewhere where the sun shines and the winds are reliable?

I went as a guest of Nirvana Adventures, based in Bombay with flying sites in the hills - the Western Ghats - nearby. The Western Ghats are a piece of geological history: they were formed 65 million years ago round about when a meteor impact in the Gulf of Mexico led to the extinction of the dinosaurs: the impact may also have added force to the huge outsurge of volcanic lava on the opposite side of the earth. In any event it was the biggest volcanic event in history. The triangular uplands of the south of India - the Deccan Traps - are what's left of the resulting lava plain, and the Western Ghats, running the length of India’s west coast, are the dramatically eroded edges of the eruption (the lava sheet is still 6,500 feet thick here).

Nirvana Adventures arranged for me to be met at Bombay airport by a driver who took me up to the Kamshet valley, about 120 km on the road to Pune. We climbed up through the spectacular edge of the Western Ghats on one of India’s few motorways, still partly under construction, and arrived in the undistinguished town of Kamshet at about midday. First impressions were not very favorable (hardly surprising after an overnight flight with a four-hour stopover in Dubai): the town is a rather insanitary blot on an otherwise very attractive landscape. But the Kamshet valley is huge, and the other pilots and I were staying at Nirvana’s accommodation a few miles out of the town, in a wooded area near a large lake: peaceful and pleasantly green rural surroundings in November. I decided not to try flying the first day, but we were all up early the next morning.

Typically at this time of year there is an easterly wind: it builds up during the morning and falls away towards dusk: at midday there are strong thermals but the winds can also be too strong to fly. After Christmas the prevailing winds are westerlies permitting flying on some dramatic cliff sites on the other side of the valley. Sanjay Rao, the instructor who runs Nirvana (ably assisted by the irrepressible Yogi Singh), took us to the main easterly site, Tower Hill. This is a two three kilometer long north-south ridge of the normal volcanic rock, with a vast grassy top landing area and steep sides to both the west and east. Take-offs are unchallenging - for which I was extremely thankful. Whenever I read reports in Skywings that start "take-off is a small clearing in the jungle above precipitous cliffs falling to razor-sharp rocks and thick thorny scrub: bottom landings are possible on a small field beside the piranha-infested river, but it is a three-day trek to the nearest road", instead of feeling challenged to try the excellent flying I find myself thinking that at my age discretion is the only part of valour. But I digress. The jeep that took us (nearly) to the top was soon waiting for us in the large bottom landing field. The non flyers there were all interested in seeing whether any pilot would actually manage to land in the big shallow well, the only obstacle besides the tree we all ended up sitting under to keep out of the sun at the end of the flight. The take-off is about 800 feet above the landing field, but the ridge rises higher to the south of the take-off to about a thousand feet, and the lift is excellent all the way along.

The views from the air are spectacular: hills as far as the eye can see, and rivers, lakes and villages scattered through the wide flat valleys below. There are no apparent air traffic control restrictions on altitude, and we saw very few other aircraft of any kind. While I was there cloud base was between 1,500 feet and 2,000 feet above take off, and there were plenty of thermals as well as good ridge-lift to take you there. Cross-country flights are eminently possible (though not for me: I am still at the stage when good ridge-soaring is exciting enough). The previous week a visiting Swiss pilot, Matt Lie, had flown some 20km west, and by chance he had picked an Indian Naval training base to land in. As a result he had had some explaining to do as well as a military escort back to Kamshet. But the agricultural nature of the entire area makes landing-out an easy matter: and there are frequent (though often rather ramshackle) bus services along most of the roads if you haven’t arranged a retrieve. At this time of year the thermals are not excessively rough, and I had the pleasant experience - a first time for me - of hooking into one at low level, yes, while actually preparing to bottom land, and working it back up to a top-landing at the take-off site. Finding thermals is helped by the presence of soaring birds that are large enough so that even I cannot fail to see them: and it's then quite easy to join the vultures and the kites in those huge lazy circles and just sit back and relax and enjoy the ride.

The easterly wind blew every day that I was there, and I gather that this is normal from November through to March, after which equally constant westerlies begin to set in. It’s a good 120km from the coast, but Indian weather is nothing if not large scale, and it’s relatively common for sea-breezes to set in towards the end of the afternoon (though without any pronounced convergence front). As a result, on two of the days I was there it was possible to soar both the east side of the hill during the morning and early afternoon, and the west side of the same hill in the late afternoon. My only mistake then was to forget to remove my sunglasses. I had been surprised that everyone else was continuing to fly in the gathering twilight, and it wasn't until I landed that I discovered that my own limited visibility was self-inflicted!

There are some drawbacks: the minor roads are bad, rutted and dusty, and it takes 45 minutes to get back to the guest-house (and longer if there's a train due at the level crossing). On the major roads the drivers often appear to have learnt their driving techniques from Stephen Spielberg's earlier works: indeed India is the only place where a taxi-ride can pump more adrenaline into your bloodstream than an ill-judged landing. It's usually best not to look at what your heading for (I adopt a similar technique on those landings - hmm, perhaps that's it). It costs a bit more to get there than it does going to Lanzarote: expect to pay about £400 for a cheap return to Bombay. But the food is good, both in the local restaurants and more particularly as cooked every evening by Yogi's brother Bharat, and if you don't want to drink the beer you can buy bottled water everywhere and no-one thinks you're unusual for doing so. The local people are very friendly, even the farmers whose land you use, and their children will often lend a hand with your kit. It's good to meet pilots from other countries too - you probably won't have too many other English fliers - and there was an excellent feeling of camaraderie with the group I joined. I was able to fly every day I was there, and each flight was a pleasure for the low airtime pilot that I am. But there are also opportunities for the more adventurous to do whatever it is they do. Nirvana arrange daily transport to the take-offs, guiding/instructing if needed, and provide pleasant basic accommodation and breakfast and dinner, for a modest inclusive charge. What's more it is India: and if you've never been there, ask yourself why not?