David Cox, with the walking stick, helped out on Wessex club sites while recovering from a broken leg; a result of launching into thermic turbulence at Monk's Down the previous summer.

The tapered grey object being held out to the left is a ventimeter; used for measuring wind strength.

This is how we parked our gliders. The need for a beefy king post and top rigging is evident. But sail stretch was an unfortunate result.

While clipping in to the glider in a wind strong enough to soar (a wind speed approaching twenty mph was usually sufficient), swirling dust surrounded the pilot in the wing's 'wind shadow'. A nose man was needed to help lift the nose from the ground, whereupon the dust storm around the pilot instantly vanished. The nose man's principle task then, as now, was to prevent a premature launch -- before the pilot was ready (before he had had time to calm his nerves).

With the glider held parallel to the slope, the sail flapped and rattled in the tearing wind. "A bit of nose-up please."

The nose man / wire person responded by edging up-hill, towards the pilot, while holding onto the fore-cables, sliding his hands along and down. The sail snapped taut and the frame lurched up to the limit of the harness risers, tugging at him in an upwards direction. (The glider could not take off as long as the front wires were held.)

After another nerve-recovery interval the pilot said "Release!"

The wire man let go and the pilot was catapulted vertically upwards as he hauled his weight forward and applied roll corrections in the turbulence close to the hillside. It all smoothed out quickly as he gained height.

Nowadays, in a modern hang glider, the landing is usually the hardest part.