Who originated paragliding? (Part Two)

In 1985, As Jean-Claude Bétemps, along with Gérard Bosson and André Bohn were busy developing their new sport, came Laurent de Kalbermatten. A Swiss pilot, he made the jump from modified parachutes to "La Randonneuse," the very first wing designed solely for paragliding (using non-porous fabric and rigid lines).

This is when paragliding ceased to be a variant of skydiving and became a free-flight sport in its own right. This model was at the beginning of mass production. Other manufacturers and designs soon followed. With more models available, the number of practitioners increased along with marketing and competition between companies, all this resulted in the technical development of paragliding in terms of ease of use, performance, and safety. 

The first recorded record in free flight distance is 69.15 km and was set by Hans Jörg Bachmair on 10 June 1989, which has been officially recorded by the International Aeronautical Federation (FAI). Soon paragliding was organized as a legitimate sport. The first European championship was held in 1988 in St Hilaire, France. The following year, the first world championship was held in Koosen, Austria. Much later, in 2004, the Asian championship in Handong, South Korea and in 2008, the Pan-American in Castelo, Brazil. 

My friend Anselme Baud who was a faculty member at the ENSA, the Chamonix-based school for mountain guides and ski instructors, in addition to being one of the pioneers of extreme (steep) skiing, played a role in adding the use of skis to the practice. In the early winter 79/80, on Plan Praz, at the Brevent’s gondola mid-station, in Chamonix, as Jean-Claude Bétemps was conducting tests with his "paraplane" (the name for the early paraglider). 

Instead of taking off on foot, Anselme Baud ​​ket his skis on to gain speed. He launched himself down the slope, took off for a few hundred meters before touching down on the snow again and skiing away. Anselme saw in the paraglider not just a flying machine, but a "mountain tool" allowing him to descend faster or overcome obstacles impassable on skis.  

In conclusion, Jean-Claude Bétemps, along with partners André Bohn and Gérard Bosson, while an instrumental trio in inventing the sport, were more focused on the technical development and the promotion of paragliding as a new, accessible sport, rather than aggressively marketing and monetizing it like a Steve Jobs or Mark Zuckerberg would have done. 

The sheer popularity of their innovation created a massive boom in the 1980s. Independent manufacturers quickly stepped in to improve the equipment, leading to a booming industry that they paved the way for, without enjoying the fruit of their invention. 

Now, just like me, you know the whole story...

Who originated paragliding? (Part One)

Paragliding has always amazed and interested me, even though I knew nothing about its origins. It was preceded by the delta-wing, hang-glider, a key precursor to foot-launched aviation, invented in 1963 by John Dickenson, an Australian engineer for water-ski towing. 

It’s Bill Bennett and Bill Moyes that further developed Dickenson's design in the early 1970s, turning the water-ski kite into a foot-launchable hang glider which hooked many of my French countrymen. Hang-gliding led to paragliding which history is quite fascinating because it’s not based on one single invention, but on a series of pioneers who transformed a survival device (the parachute) into a fun implement. In searching for those "truly" at the origin of the sport as we know it today, we find a group of technical precursors. 

Before paragliding became a sport, it was necessary to invent the double-surface wing that would allows it to work. In 1964 an American, Domina Jalbert, the real inventor, Domina Jalbert, patented the Parafoil. Consider it as the birth certificate of the cell wing. Before him, parachutes were round; after, they became rectangular and capable of generating real lift. 

One year later David Barish, a consultant for NASA, developed the Sailwing (a single-surface wing). He was the first to practice what he called "Slope Soaring" on a ski slope at Hunter Mountain, near New York, dropping 200 feet. 

Although Barish was technically the first "paraglider," the activity did not catch on and fell into oblivion for more than a decade. 

On June 25, 1978, in Mieussy (17 miles from my hometown of Montriond, in Haute-Savoie) three parachutists from the Annemasse aero-club decided to take off from a Mieussy slope instead of jumping from a plane to save on flying costs. 

Their idea came from reading an article in the 1972 Parachute manual that referenced David Barish's Sloape Soaring. Jean-Claude Bétemps, who will turn 77 this year, often called the father of paragliding, was the one who performed the very first test (a small jump down the slope).

André Bohn: a high-level Swiss skydiver followed and made the first true sustained flight later that year, taking off from a slope on Mont Pethuiset and landing 1000 meters lower in the valley, on the Mieussy football field. 

Gérard Bosson structured the activity and in 1979, founded, with Michel Didriche and Georges Perret, the world's first paragliding club and school: "Les Choucas" in Mieussy. He was instrumental in promoting the sport internationally. 

Tomorrow, will see how further improvements and adaptations have molded the practice of paragliding...

Age and risk-taking

The accident just sustained by Lindsey Vonn at the Olympics reminds me of another ski comeback, that of Bill Johnson, former downhill Olympic champion at the 1984 Sarajevo Games. At age 40, weighed down by personal struggles and chasing a sense of former glory, he attempted an improbable return for the 2002 Winter Olympics in Salt Lake City. 

The bid ended abruptly on March 22, 2001, when Johnson crashed during a training run before the downhill race at the US Alpine Championships in Montana. The injuries were catastrophic — severe brain trauma, a nearly severed tongue, and a three‑week coma. His body simply couldn’t cash the checks his competitive instinct kept writing.

I’m not in Lindsey’s head, but watching her come in fast, catch air, catch the gate and lose control, we can almost feel the split-second where instinct and physiology parted ways. That’s the paradox of aging: the mind stays young, hungry, convinced it can still summon the same reactions, while the body quietly rewrites the limits. 

The gap between intention and execution becomes just wide enough for disaster to slip through. I half-jokingly call this the “Biden syndrome” — not political commentary, but a shorthand for that universal human illusion that we’re still 25 on the inside. It’s a reminder that experience doesn’t always compensate for the slow erosion of reaction time, balance, and resilience. 

More than ever, I’ll try to learn from this when I ski or drive. Respecting one’s limits isn’t cowardice; it’s wisdom earned the hard way by others who pushed past theirs.

Why older skiers can’t get back up? (Part Two)

Besides what we covered yesterday, aging also affects the inner ear, joint receptors, and neural pathways that tell us where we’re in space. This makes it harder to coordinate the “roll, plant, push” sequence needed to stand up on snow. 

Balance decline is one of the major contributors to fall‑related difficulty in older adults. On flat terrain, where gravity can’t help us, this deficit becomes even more obvious. Even strong older athletes experience slower reaction times and reduced “explosive” force, like that quick impulse needed to rise from the ground. 

This isn’t just muscle mass; it’s the nervous system firing more slowly and less efficiently. As we age, knees, hips, and spine lose flexibility and range of motion. Getting up from a fall requires hip rotation, knee and ankle flexion and the ability to bring the torso over the center of mass. Our ski boots lock the ankles, so the hips and knees must do even more work in the exact places where stiffness tends to accumulate. 

Then there’s fear as older adults often hesitate to do what they remember doing because they’re subconsciously protecting joints or worried about falling again. This “mental brake” or apprehension, reduces the fluidity needed to stand up efficiently. 

Ski instructors who work with older clients emphasize that getting up with skis attached is dramatically harder unless the slope is steep enough to help position the hips above the feet. On flat terrain, people get stuck and the only way out of a fall is to release the bindings and take off the skis.

Heli‑ski operators know this, which is why they often restrict older skiers, not because they are not good enough to ski, but because they may not be able to self‑recover after a fall in deep snow and will unnecessarily hold the group. 

So the obvious conclusion of this quick discussion is to avoid falling and if this still happens remember that we’re goddamn lucky to still ski as septuagenarians or even older!

Olympics opening ceremony

Yesterday afternoon, skiing wasn’t good enough to go out and try to have fun, so, instead my wife and I watched the entire Olympic ceremony. Something we hadn’t done in a very long time. We liked some of the acts, like as always the athletes' presentation and fashion show in which the best outfit is the enemy of the good.

Some acts were a bit over the top, but that’s a question of personal taste. We found the event far too long. Almost 3 hours could have been done in two. I liked it when J.D. Vance and Israel got jeered. 

Still, we liked the speech by Zimbabwe’s Kirsty Coventry, the new President of the International Olympic Committee (IOC) as of June 2025. 

We felt bad that people still die in Sudan, Gaza and Ukraine, while thousands have fun in Italy, but I guess humanity can still walk and watch their smartphones at the same time…

Why older skiers can’t get back up? (Part one)

After the age of 70, skiers increasingly find it quite difficult to get back up after a fall, especially on flat terrain. This is so bad that ski helicopter operators discourage, or simply disallow older skiers from boarding their aircraft. 

Besides a drastic reduction in overall loss of muscle mass, we’ll see today what’s really behind that disability. Obviously, the answer turns out to be more complex than “less muscle.” Muscle loss matters, but it’s only one piece of a larger age‑related shift in how the body moves, stabilizes itself, and generates coordinated force. 

Research on older adults and fall recovery points to several interacting factors that make getting up from the ground, especially with ski boots on, on snow, and with skis attached, disproportionately difficult after about age 70. Standing up from the ground requires a sequence of movements that many of us simply stop practicing as we grow older. 

Physical therapists will tell us that rising from the ground demands hip mobility, core engagement, shoulder stability, and rotational control, all of which decline with age even in active adults. Ski boots and skis amplify this problem: they restrict ankle flexion, limit leverage, and make it impossible to plant the feet under the body the way younger skiers instinctively do. 

So what we’re up against in that case is a combination of reduced mobility, weaker balance, reduced neuromuscular response, less self-confidence and a ski gear that literally stands in the way. Muscle loss is only one contributor, so tomorrow we’ll try to get the whole picture!

A step down, now what? (Part Two)

What sparked yesterday’s two-step story, was skiing with my daughter the day before. Over the years, I always stayed comfortably ahead of her in difficult terrain and conditions, but now that I’m 78, times might be changing as she’s now nipping at my heels. This, to me, means that I'm getting old and close to taking that infamous "step down". 

We're both very good skiers and current snow conditions in Utah are extremely challenging at the moment and it’s what gave me the “step down / step up” idea. Skiing is a visceral way to notice change, with speed, balance, reaction time, concentration, confidence on such variable snow and terrain conditions. It’s one of those activities where the body tells the truth before the mind has fully caught up. 

True, at 78 I’m still in love with skiing and still seeking tough terrain and conditions. This isn’t true of all the folks my age. Most aren’t on the mountain at all, let alone keeping pace with a strong 43‑year lady who’s been skiing all her life. The fact that she’s “nipping at your heels” instead of disappearing in front of my eyes over the ridge perhaps is telling about my baseline. 

My daughter catching up isn’t just about me slowing down, it’s also about her hitting her own peak. She’s in that sweet spot of strength, experience, and confidence. I’m witnessing her ascend while I adjust; a generational handoff, not a personal failure. I see that shift with clarity, not self‑pity, without reacting defensively or denying what’s happening. I simply observed it, named it, and then used it to spark a philosophical idea about balance. 

Let’s call this a mental “step up”! Sure, our current thin and hard snow conditions amplify everything. Icy, scraped‑off, or refrozen conditions punish even small changes in strength or reaction time. On soft powder, the gap might look different. Conditions shape performance more than pride wants to admit. 

A physical “step down”, even a small one, can be matched with a “step up” in something else, like refining one’s technique, becoming even more efficient and deepening the joy of skiing with my daughter rather than ahead of her. That’s not compensation, it’s just evolution. What I experienced on the slopes wasn’t just aging; it was a moment of recalibration. 

And the fact that I’m thinking about it with nuance is not a sign I’m losing ground, I’m only shifting terrain!