23/10/2025
It’s mid-October. The sky above the Fassa Valley is cloudless, the air crisp and clear. You’re in the car park at the cable car in Campitello, having just finished a quick coffee and a tasty panino. There’s no rush. The day looks promising.
Up at Col Rodella, the grassy slopes are bathed in soft morning light. Your view opens wide to a panorama of the surrounding peaks — Sassolungo, Sella, and Pordoi, and further back, the Marmolada, already shimmering through.
You hike up to the upper launch. A light easterly is blowing, thermic pulses coming through. It’s still quiet. You calmly lay out your wing, hook in, and the canopy comes up clean and steady. A few steps later, you’re airborne.
Right after take-off, a slight downdraft drops you into the lee. No need to tense up. You just glide toward the house thermal. Then the first lift hits — smooth and consistent. You’re climbing at 2–3 m/s. It feels easy, effortless. With every turn, your view opens wider. The north face of the Sella Ridge drifts below, glowing gold, with deep shadows cutting between the jagged rock spires.
You glide on toward Pordoi. A solid 4.5 m/s thermal is waiting. Tight turns pull you toward base — 3,200 m, 3,400 m, 3,700 m. The air thins, the vario screams. Then, cloudbase. 4,050 m. Personal best.
You take a moment to scan the world below. Nothing disturbs you. It’s just you and your wing, floating above the remnants of late-autumn cumulus. The panorama is unreal. You head toward the Marmolada, aim for the west face, work the ridge, and hook another climb. It’s a bit broken, but you centre it, focused.
And then — there it is. The Marmolada. White, massive, majestic. The highest peak of the Dolomites beneath your feet, taking your breath away. A dream realised. You shift slightly south, glide over the glacier plateau, finding just enough lift to hold altitude and soak in the view. Pure calm. No noise, no drama — just big. Just real.
The glide back feels endless. You drift south across the valleys, catching soft late-day bubbles, carving wide turns toward Sassolungo. The sun drops lower, painting the south faces in deep orange light. You’ve been in the air for hours, but the day isn’t done yet.
The last magic climb should be on the south wall of the Langkofel. You hug the cliff, rock glowing, shadows stretching. The vario chirps again — lift. You trace lazy eights, totally relaxed. No radio chatter, no voices. Just you and this surreal landscape — the Rosengarten, glowing red under a huge backlit cumulus. Words don’t do it justice.
Then it hits you: what a day. No scary moments, no worries, no wrestling with the wing. It was just there — part of you. It did its job so naturally it disappeared. You weren’t flying a glider — you were just flying.
The best wing is the one you forget mid-flight. The one that keeps you safe without showing off. The one that moves with you, intuitively. It lets you fly. It helps you grow beyond what you thought possible.
My glider is the NYRA RS. In Sanskrit, Nyra means beauty, wisdom, and clarity. In Arabic, it means light, brilliance, and purity. And that’s exactly how today felt. Another one for the memory book — and a reminder of why we fly.
https://www.swing.de/produkte/nyra-rs/?lang=en
© Photo: Daniel Kofler
https://www.facebook.com/koflerdaniel
