Storms a brewin’.

Low rumble off in the distance.

A minute passes.

Another, closer.

Another minute.

Yet another, nearly overhead.

Pat.

Pat..Pat.

PatPatPatPatPatPatPatPatPatPatPatPatPatPat….

A quarter hour must have passed – one could easily keep time with the metronome like quality of the passing storm cell interval.

During one deluge, I enquire at the restaurant downstairs as to what breakfast entails. Toast, jam, and coffee – 6 euro. The hotels in downtown Vancouver would be proud. Remember from last year: Pay more, expect less. So self assembled sandwiches it will be, necessitating a game of downpour dodgeball to the Casino Supermarche.

With ear and eye to the sky, I start the short 10 minute jaunt to the supermarche. No sign of any more cells, perhaps it is passing. Maybe today will be salvageable (‘hope is a denial of reality’).

Back in time for the briefing, the task is a no go. Those that are interested (aka the non-X class/special needs pilots) stick around for Jocky’s presentation on XC flying immediately following the briefing.

A few of the pilots decide to kill time by tossing a rubber boot around.

Yes, a rubber boot.

Seriously, a rubber boot.

There is an expression, “Few things are more dangerous than a bored skydiver.” I am starting to see a paragliding parallel.

The only other event of note is the NED/MEX futbol match. A large screen tele is setup in the Main Tent and anyone who is not Dutch becomes an honorary Mexican and can partake in the margarita making contest (do they even sell tequila in France?). It is left to the readers imagination how this ends. A little hint, the briefing the next morning was missing a few pilots.

Storms should clear out today though the wind is expected to pick up.

 

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