When the phone rings at my desk and I see Jerome Maupoint’s number light up on the display, I can tell there’ll be good times ahead. What plan would Gin  gliders own personal roaming photographer be scheming now? More over, as it would definitely involve flying, somewhere nice, how could I be involved in it?
“Eh Mark, I want to come to zee Lake District to make zee photos”.
“Fantastic, when?”
“I want to see some green in zee pictures, you know. You have soaring, non? You know, wiz zee wind?”
I take a look out of the rain streaked window across the valley to where Blencathra should be. It’s hidden behind a thick veil of cloud that’s hurtling sideways across my vision as though I’m staring out of a moving train.
“ Yeah, we have wind, Jerome. Plenty of it. Come on over, we’ll have a blast!
We set out the first ten days of June, approaching the height of the great English summer. I check my wall planner and use the biggest marker pen I can find to and scrawl over the dates M-A-R-K F-L-Y-I-N-G. It’s great working within the paragliding industry, you get to play with all the latest toys and work with something you love, the perfect job you’d have thought. The trouble is work has got so busy over the last few years that my flying time has really suffered, but as we’re going to fit in a photoshoot for Gin I realise that I can actually justify the ten days as legitimate work! Excited by the prospect of what’s to come I start to make plans.
I really want to show Jerome how beautiful this place is. I’m a proud Cumbrian. I’ve flown all around the world, but this is the land I love. Flying here is amazing, but I want to show Jerome inside the heart of the Lakes, I want him to meet the people, the farmers, the animals, the local characters and of course the beer and the pies. I want him to experience the real Cumbrian culture.
WEDNESDAY 31ST MAY
Two months later I’m stood in arrivals in Liverpool John Lennon Airport. Jerome’s on time and in my car by early afternoon.
“We can still be on take off by five if I get my foot down, sea breeze will be on Walla Crag” I tell him as we hurtle north up the M6 motorway, admiring the puffy cloud streets leading off towards the Pennines. I send a couple of texts as we pull off and arrange to meet Patrick and Swanny.
Jerome’s face lights up as we approach take off from the back by car
“Eh Mark, it is like Annecy!” he says sounding both excited and relieved.
Walla is working perfectly, we soar gently up on the sea breeze, playing and competing in the choppy thermals, laughing at each other, whilst being put to shame by the resident buzzards. We push out over Derwent Water and find convergence between two sea breezes, which keeps us high over the water and laughing out loud. We land near the cars and pack up lazily, the first flyable day in a while has brought everyone out and the landing field at Castlerigg is buzzing with the promise of good weather.
Within minutes we’re sat in the pub and I introduce Jerome to a pint of Jennings Cumberland Ale, my local beer.
“Iz a big glass huh?” Jerome’s first pint goes down well, as do a few more. I note the nodding approval of a few of the elderly locals. The lad’ll do well here.
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