http://paraglidingforum.com/viewtopic.php?t=45827

I crawl along the ridge, trying to get to get to the pointy end of
the mountain where all the valley crossers have arrived way ahead of me and are
feeding off the savage thermals ripping up the rocky slopes. Most of the little
bastards are already high up and I have a long way to go to get there, stupid
stupid start to the race.

As I watch them with barely concealed envy, out of the corner of my eye I catch
a glider doing something weird. I look just in time to see what appear to be a
post reinflation dive, a bit too close to the mountain for comfort. Fair enough,
he has enough separation, but the glider does not seem to want to start flying
again. From my point of view, about a kilometre away, it seemed like a case of
notlettinggoofthefuckingbrakesitis, a horrible neurological disease which
plagues most pg pilots, usually asymptomatically until it leads to nastiness at
the most awkward moment. In this case, there wasn't much time, I saw the glider
stay in what looked like a parachutal until it went out of sight behind the
mountain. That's OK, I thought, even though I couldn't judge how far he was from
the slope when I lost him, he must still have had plenty of height to recover.
Then the radio calls started. Pilot down, helicopter needed.