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This is what I sent to Paul’s mom.
Dear Mrs. Voigt,
I was shocked to learn yesterday of your son Paul’s tragic death from a snake bite last week. I barely knew Paul, but I’ve barely known him for what seems like 15 years – whenever he started making his annual trips out to fly Crestline & SoCal. I used to have several days a week where I would do multiple hang glider flights, either tandems or production test flights, and there would be this car parked up on launch all day. “Oh, that’s Wisconsin Paul” Dianne McKenzie said. He’d launch from the mountain early, when just staying airborne was a challenge, then fly all afternoon, usually venturing farther away than most. He’d land at the LZ near sunset and hike back up 2,300 vertical feet of mountain to get his car (often in the dark). He’d go camp somewhere in the hills and do it again the next day. Day after day. I really admired and respected his devotion to our sport, his health & fitness, and his evident skill.
Paul’s love of hang gliding was pure. He kept to himself for the most part, seemed to prize being self-sufficient. We occasionally had brief conversations about the day’s flying conditions, either at launch or in the landing zone. Paul definitely wasn’t a story- teller, didn’t need to hang around after flying and swap tales to fuel his ego. Unusual for a pilot, to say the least. His vehicles changed over the years, always something practical, utilitarian. His gliders changed, always clean and well cared-for, top-of-the-line but purchased used. Paul didn’t need flash or bling. Frugality was his way.
I’ve been flying hang gliders since 1985 and I’ve never met a pilot quite like Paul. His annual extended visits to the area really marked the seasons, came to seem part of the natural flow of things. He’d arrive when the flying was starting to get reliable and good, then he’d be gone when the brutal summer heat was starting to set in.
I’ll miss his calm, quiet presence.
Good Flying,
Ken Howells