On the first attempt I arrived a little beyond Las Lajas and returned, dragging myself through rotor and scattered clouds and not finding any sign of the wave. I was not alone - other people were afflicted by the same bad experience. I did, however, cover 451km, about the same distance Miguel Laso flew a few days later, except that he beat me by 10km with a 461km. After this, there were many good opportunities, but I was occupied giving check flights to visiting pilots coming to Chos Malal for their Diamonds (or just for fun!).

On December 1, Marcelo Martino (who always takes off between 5.30 and 6.00am), shot off towards the south. I, of course, made some progress, but when I reached 7000m, and saw the track to the south covered with dying wave systems, I gave up and by 10am everything had effectively died. A marked achievement, however, was to get to Las Lajas after a momentous struggle with weak thermals and capricious winds. Horacio Miranda also had the intention of setting off but, due to his great experience in the area, did not. Luis, our disciple of Brujo (Magician), checked the Internet weather forecast for Monday, December 10, and announced that after several waveless days Monday would have relatively good wave with a strong flow between 260-280 degrees all day. I collected my things and went to bed early. Monday dawned with very little wind on the surface, but there were already outlines of wave corridors forming over the Cordillera del Viento (the Wind mountain range) and the Loncopué town areas. With much fuss (testing the flight recorder, towing the glider to the threshold of runway 30, getting in, connecting everything that needed to be connected and closing everything, including the pilot, into the cockpit) it was already 8am when we took off towards Mayal hill. I did not encounter any turbulence. Shortly before arriving at El Alamito, I made some turns to establish myself in the smooth lift. Lito Fentanes followed me, which embarrassed me a bit because I had started to lose height. I was pleased, in the end, when I made contact with the strong lift. I left Curi Leuvu and carried on gaining altitude in our local wave system created by the Cordillera del Viento. With 7900, QNH on the altimeter, I took the route south, initially heading for a huge lenticular that stretched beyond view. After crossing the zone of sink that separates us from the Loncopué system, I headed directly for the wave produced by the main mountain range. I contacted it at the river Agrio’s altitude and found good lift in the right direction.

I carried on, gaining height at a rate of 2m/s with 160km/h indicated. Once at 8000m, I levelled out, trading in the climb rate for speed, bearing in mind the corrected VNE at such altitudes. On from here, I skirted around a monstrous lenticular that carried me near first turning point, Fortìn de 1 de Mayo.

I got a bit low (4012m) over Loncopué and it took 15 minutes of intense labour to get myself high enough to carry on with my journey as if on rails. I took some pictures, ate some cereal bars (for which I needed to remove my oxygen mask, bite off a piece of congealed food, replace the mask, chew and repeat the procedure) and supervised the onward flight of my jet, admiring the countryside that serves as my occupation. The traditional ingress of humid air from the Pacific Ocean captured my attention. I saw holes of föhn above Las Lajas town and Zapala City, but the last turning point (Atravesado hill) was invisible. Knowing the intricacies of the local systems, I went to some 7000m above the white mat, carefully watching the vario and counting the number of kilometres that I still needed. It was looking good, there was very little sink. In the end, having left the primary wave system, the kilometres passed slowly by.

On the last leg I returned definitively to the nest. I listened to some depressing commentaries on the radio about the lack of wave in the Cordillera del Viento. When I arrived, the lift had effectively dried up. With sweat and anguish, I tried to run the last 10km to Curi Leuvu, although the sink forced me to turn around without reaching the waypoint. I had to struggle back to Mayal hill in thermic rotor; I regained 2700m so that I could return to Chos Malal airport. In the end, I touched down at 16:38.

As I did not reach Curi Luevu I lost a few kilometres and my preferred route became a free distance with three turning points. It didn’t matter, I was very happy, even more so that Horacio Miranda was able to collect his third Diamond on the same day with a flight of 513km. The total flight time was 8hrs 35mins. The task, from start to finish took 7hrs 22mins. The final record of the flight shows 1018.71 kilometres at an average speed of 138km/h.

Like all sporting efforts, these flights could not have taken place without the kind help of so many good friends. Horacio Miranda and Marcelo Martino have been tracing the route for more than ten years, and without the support of everyone at Patagonia Soaring, my flight would still be a dream. It has once more been demonstrated that Chos Malal is the ideal launching point for all manner of mountain flying tasks, using the potent wave of the Cordillera del Viento as a catapult to access the Andes’s wave. This allows us, in Argentina, to break important records in distance, speed and height.

I dedicate this flight to my second homeland, the Republic of Argentina and to the memory of Juan Tinirello.

Andreas Hänggi is one of the Patagonia Soaring crew and they have regular expeditions to Chos Malal. The map showing the task area is on their website

Translated by Mike Brady.