Again an early start. Conditions were excellent; firm breeze, and stable. I was soon off - first attempt - and immediately making ground at around 30mph SSW past Cannock Chase and then round the corner, heading for Pershore, next to Bredon Hill in Worcestershire . I made cracking progress, have become inured to flying over pylons and wires (I am in general flying higher), and had let out my trimmers within a couple of minutes. Thus the wing was flying faster and without 'flaps' which are put in for take-off and landing. The flying was smooth, the vis was perfect ... one of the best set of conditions I have had.
Then what? Grey whiteness ahead which turned into puffs of mist and, beyond, what looked like a solid wall of fog. I was sure this was tending to clear, but I had no spare fuel to wait. In any event hanging around near fog is a very bad idea; it can envelop you in moments. Imagine trying to land around and past trees or buildings without being able to see them; no radar or air traffic control for a paramotor. So - yet again - I found a field and landed. Yet again Gina found me, this time on the A5; we lifted the machine out of the field over an old iron fence, went to thank the farmer for the unexpected use of his ground, and then thought .... WHAT NEXT?
Charlotte was coming up from the south to meet us at Pershore. So I'm afraid I must admit that we drove the 40 miles there, to get past the fog. I have been punctilious in doing the whole journey by air ... but at this stage, after so many delays, missing the chance for a further leg south just seemed too much of a hit. I am prepared to add an additional 40 mile flight on the final stage in order to be able to say truthfully that I have covered the distance.
Then - naturally - a change of forecast for the worse: higher winds. Higher cumulus cloud was also building overhead. On the other hand there was a lull both forecast and evident. I should have waited for the excellent conditions predicted for the morrow. But - I suppose - press-on-itis intervened. I launched easily, and realised within seconds that, a few tens of feet up, there was frightful turbulence. I did two slalom circuits, making very little progress to windward, and then started to descend. It was OK. The field was large; there was space. I cut the engine, and continued the glide in. Then at perhaps ten feet there was a sudden push downwards; I landed suddenly - in a fraction of a second - very heavily. The base of my back complained noisily and painfully.
At that point I didn't know how bad this was; since there was grass and mud on the top of my helmet (as I was subsequently told by our host), I must have head-butted the ground too which would explain an acheing neck. I think the whole thing happened because I was landing towards the upwind end of the field and thus in the final stages in the lee of some trees: probably a 'downwind vortex' got me.
Help appeared; I was disentangled from the machine and the wing, and then slowly assisted to my feet.
I was able to walk: first good sign. We spoke to a physio friend of Gina's who asked me various key questions. It looked and (touch wood) looks as if I have avoided something really serious. It remains to be seen how quickly the back pain goes; but the final leg the next day in perfect conditions was now
clearly out of the question. We drove home. Pain killers, and- in sequence - whisky did a good job. Damn -I feel an idiot. But I haven't given up.