Accident Report
On Sunday, March 1, 1998, several Tucson area paraglider pilots gathered at Box Canyon for an evening flight. The gathering included pilots Fred Leonard, Lew Smith, Red Walsh, Ian Stine, Ed Hileman, Buddy Crill, Scott Horton, Leigh Anne Gallagher, Arjan Ala, Kep Taiz, and Larry Mayer. Larry's wife Rose offered her services as driver.

Box Canyon can be described as a horseshoe of ridges with the open end facing west. The inside, north facing ridge of the south leg of the horseshoe is very steep and rocky and is consistently soarable in a north or north-west wind. There is a landing zone (LZ) at the mouth of the horseshoe where most pilots park their cars.

Several pilots hoofed the one and a half hour hike from the LZ up to launch with their paragliders. Several others four wheeled the washed out dirt roads to the bowl of the horseshoe and lugged their equipment up the 30 minute trail to launch. Rose stayed with the vehicle in the bowl of the horseshoe. She had a cellular phone and a modified two meter FM radio.

Most pilots arrived at launch between four and five PM. Conditions were ideal for the recreational pilots. The wind direction was due north and the velocity was sufficient to ridge soar, but not so strong as to make for complicated or difficult launching. The gust factor was minimal.

Fred was the first pilot off and enjoyed a good 30 minute ridge soaring flight all by himself as the rest of the pilots were setting up. About the time Buddy launched, Fred headed to the LZ and landed. Scott and Arjan followed next, and the ridge slowly started to fill up. Before too long Ian, Kep, and Red were in the air. Conditions were smooth and ideal and everyone was anticipating a bird's eye view of a spectacular Arizona sunset.

At this point one pilot was in the LZ, six pilots were in the air, four pilots were on launch, and Rose was with the vehicle behind launch. The lift was not abundantly strong but it was certainly not necessary to scratch. However, most pilots were working the strongest areas of lift and traffic in those areas was a bit congested. Several of the pilots commented at the end of the day that they were intimidated by the traffic they observed in those areas and were uncomfortable with the prospect of flying in that situation.

Then the accident happened.

The following is Scott Horton's reconstruction of what happened. This account is based on his own observation of the incident from the air and the accounts of the other pilots in the air and on launch. Ian had an excellent view of the collision and this account draws heavily on his observations. Scott cautions the reader to recognize that when we are in stressful situations, our brains often distort our senses and memories, and no matter how desperately we need to rationalize, simplify, and distill traumatic experiences into black and white, right and wrong, to do so is impossible.

At approximately 5:30 PM, Red was ridge soaring his Edel Super Space in a westerly direction at a higher altitude (maybe 100 feet?) than Arjan, who was ridge soaring a Nova Axon in an easterly direction. Red was flying into the sun, but none of the other pilots recall glare being a problem. As the two pilots approached each other, Red encountered sink and his altitude advantage over Arjan was diminishing.

Red initiated a right hand turn away from the ridge, which Ian suspects was in an attempt to avoid Arjan. At the same time, Arjan initiated an aggressive left hand turn away from the ridge. Ian believes that Arjan was starting a 180 degree turn to head back west down the ridge. Ian also believes that Arjan's attention was focused to the north, the direction he was turning towards, and that he was unaware of Red's proximity.

Red must have observed Arjan's heading change and foreseen a collision because Ian saw Red abandon the right hand turn away from the ridge and initiate a left hand turn back into the ridge. Time and distance between the two were very short.

As the new trajectories manifested themselves, Red found that he and Arjan's canopy were going to try and occupy the same space at the same time. Red screamed. In a last ditch effort to avoid collision, Ian saw Red reach up and grab the top of his risers and pull his body up, rolling his feet up over his head as though he was going to do a back flip, trying to get his body out of the way of Arjan's canopy.

Red's body and Arjan's canopy collided. Ian says that Red's body went right into Arjan's leading edge. Arjan's canopy wrapped around Red's body and lost all semblance to an airfoil. Scott remembers seeing Arjan's canopy, a brilliant wadded purple ribbon, horizontally laid across the backdrop of the brown and green ridge-side. Red's canopy also became distorted. The two pilots and their canopies plummeted at a shocking velocity.

Arjan was roughly fifty feet over the summit of the ridge when the collision occurred. He impacted the ridge approximately 150 feet east of launch and 40 or 50 feet below the summit. Red impacted the ridge 20 feet above Arjan. The area of impact was rocky with sparsely scattered scrubby bushes.

Arjan was wearing a very light weight plastic helmet that resembled a kayaking helmet. Arjan's harness did not have a spine protector. Red wore a solid, probably fiberglass, Bell style helmet and his harness was equipped with a spine protector.

The four pilots on launch ran to the victims. Arjan was found unconscious on his back, bleeding from the nose, his shoulders propped up by a scrubby bush, his legs crossed at the ankles, and his head sagging to the side in an unnatural way. Red was found on his side, lucid, complaining of lower back pain and loss of feeling in one leg.

Red appeared to be stable. Arjan however was completely unresponsive. He appeared to be breathing although respiration was spastic and jerky. Spine and neck injury seemed apparent, so the four rescuers left Arjan where he lay.

At this point the two heroes of the day emerged. Lew Smith did an outstanding job of taking charge and directing the rescue team and Rose back at the vehicle called 911 on the cellular phone and coordinated with the authorities. Lew directed Rose to get two MediVac helicopters in route and even had radio frequencies, GPS coordinates, road names, and quadrangle map numbers for Rose to relay to the authorities.

Leigh Anne was monitoring Arjan and noticed that he had stopped breathing. Lew radioed to Rose to get a doctor on the line to ask if they should move Arjan to begin CPR, even though back injury seemed evident. Scott radioed to Lew that if breathing had stopped, mouth to mouth must be started. Lew, Leigh Anne, and Larry moved Arjan as gently as possible and began CPR. Scott side hill landed and joined the CPR efforts.

CPR was administered for what felt like hours, although the helicopters and paramedics arrived in probably under a half an hour. Ed was in communication with the helicopter pilots via radio and vectored them in for back side hill top landings.

The paramedics connected an EKG to Arjan while CPR continued. When they were ready, the EMTs directed "Stop CPR!" The EMTs found no electrical activity from Arjan's heart and explained that there was nothing they could do. "Your friend is gone."

Everyone was overcome with emotion and sobbed uncontrollably for a few minutes but regrouped quickly because Red had to be loaded on a spine board and carried to the helicopter. Red had apparent spinal injury and the process of removing his harness and rolling him onto the spine board took a long time. By the time he was loaded and the helicopter left, the spectacular Arizona sunset had come and gone, and the five pilots remaining on launch were tired, cold, and emotionally drained.

Arjan's body was loaded on the second helicopter in the dark and the five pilots began the hike down with their paragliders on their backs.

Everyone regrouped in the LZ, shared their observations, and agreed to meet at the hospital that Red was taken to.

Arjan's father was contacted and informed of the tragedy.

The Pima County Sheriff's department interviewed everyone at the hospital and seemed to have a reasonable understanding of what had happened, although their press releases indicated it was a hang gliding accident.

Red did in fact have a spinal injury and had back surgery Monday afternoon, March 2, 1998. The doctors seem to think Red will have a near full recovery after extensive rehabilitation and physical therapy.

Remembering Arjan
Dear Ann, Fereydoun, Souren, Natalyn, Tour,

Regretfully, Leigh Anne and I will not be able to attend the commemoration gathering for Arjan in England. We hope the gathering will be a fabulous celebration of Arjan's fantastic and exciting life and that everyone's grief over their personal loss will be diminished by a new appreciation for the quantity and quality of living that Arjan crammed into his much too short time with us.

I spent many weeks trying to think of what words to share with everyone at the commemoration and was quite frustrated by my inability to concisely express who my friend Arjan was to me. Just when I was ready to give up, a piece of Arjan's history found its way to me. The following simple story most elegantly gives insight into who my friend Arjan was. I hope you enjoy the story and find it worthy of sharing with everyone at the gathering.

"Greetings!"

That's how Arjan always greeted me, the first time and every time thereafter. And if you want to hear how he said it, just close your eyes and have his father, Fereydoun, say it. The likeness of their voices is remarkable.

We, Arjan's Tucson friends, wish we could be with you all today in England, to laugh and cry, tell funny stories, and learn more about our very private friend. Arjan was a wonderful person and he had many wonderful friends. It seems that Arjan allowed his friends to know only a part of himself, and now that he has left us, we are all trying to piece together the complete picture. The following story is a sliver from the life of the Arjan that I knew.

In September of 1992, Arjan was in the Owens Valley of southern California for a paragliding competition. The Owens Valley is the most famous hang gliding and paragliding site in the world because of its consistent "big air," hot rising thermals that carry passive aircraft high into the sky, sometimes over 20,000 feet above sea level. Pilots from all over the world come to the Owens to test themselves and experience their passion on the grandest scale.

The White Mountains of the Owens Valley. ©1992 Leo Geary.

Also in the Owens for the competition was a young man named Leo Geary. Arjan and Leo had never met and probably had never even heard of each other, but shared some common traits. Both were explorers and adventurers, world travelers with a zest for living that manifested itself in activities like paragliding that, for most of us, are so frightening we can not see the appeal. But to Arjan and Leo, paragliding in the Owens -- riding strong currents of lifting air to altitudes several miles above the earth with no cockpit or motor to isolate them from the experience, looking down at the White Mountains and the Sierra Nevada (home of the highest mountain in the continental United States) as only a bird might, flying great distances over impassable terrain in simple aircraft of nothing more than fabric and string that they carried on their backs -- was an activity that gave them not fear, but rather a joy and elation that few of our species may ever know.

On September 23, Leo launched his paraglider from the Gunter Launch in the White Mountains and had a spectacular flight that carried him all the way to Coaldale Junction, Nevada. The flight was Leo's personal best and he must have felt an immense satisfaction with his accomplishment. But, as is always the case with these sorts of adventures, the practical details, such as a ride back to the Owens, had not been prearranged. Adventurers like Arjan and Leo can focus their energies intensely on one primary goal, like flying cross country, and not be bothered or preoccupied with secondary details such as getting back home. The secondary details always seem to work themselves out and if they don't, the satisfaction of having accomplished something really significant and extraordinary, the primary goal, more than compensates for the discomfort and insecurity that results from unattended-to details. Hitch-hiking or not knowing where one might be sleeping that night actually makes an adventure more epic.

Leo tried hitch-hiking, but had no luck. He called the competition organizer, Mark Axen, back at the competition headquarters in Bishop, California and asked if anyone would be willing to come to Nevada and pick him up. Arjan, who had never met Leo, volunteered to make the several hour drive. That Arjan volunteered to help out a stranger was not at all out of character, especially since Leo was not really a stranger at all; he was a fellow paraglider pilot.

Arjan drove the highway to Coaldale Junction alone. Leaving Bishop, he drove north up Highway 6 which follows the western base of the 14,000 foot White Mountains, cutting across the dry and dusty alluvial fan at 5,000 feet. At the northern toe of the Whites, the highway bends to the east and climbs up to 7,000 foot Montgomery Pass in the Toiyabe National Forest. Another 30 miles across the high desert salt marshes of Nevada and Arjan arrived in Coaldale. The drive probably began late in the day, around or after sunset.

Part of the aeronautical chart that Arjan flew with in the Owens Valley. Bishop is in the bottom left and Coaldale Junction is in the upper right. The mountain range in between is the White Mountains. Highway 6 is the vertical line on the left.

It is very difficult to explain how magnificent the country that Arjan traveled that day is. Everything in the Owens is exaggerated and polarized; enormous mountains and deep valleys, desolate deserts and lush alpine forests, baking hot sun and freezing cold nights. When water used to flow in the Owens, before Los Angeles sucked the valley dry, the water leached salts from the soil and deposited stalagmite sculptures in the present day salt flats; unearthly landscapes framed by pure white cumulonimbus clouds and deep blue skies. The Owens is a harsh, brutal environment but it has a beauty that, for many, makes it a spirit lifting place. Arjan often spoke fondly of the Owens. It was a very powerful place for him. When Arjan found Leo in Coaldale, the sky was probably big, clear, and filled with stars.

Salt stalagmites, "Tufa Formations," in the Owens Valley

If Arjan's drive to Coaldale had been serene and peaceful, the ride back was probably anything but. Leo was undoubtedly happy and excited and the recounting of his flight probably lasted all the way to Bishop. Arjan was so enraptured with paragliding, there is no doubt he empathized with Leo, shared in the excitement of Leo's flight, and became part of Leo's experience and memory.

After Arjan's accident, Ken deRussy, a hang gliding and paragliding instructor that Arjan had immense respect for, wrote of Arjan:

"He was warm, intelligent and funny and made me feel welcome ... Jan was gracious, exuberant and generous with his praise of my instruction in spite of his own wealth of experience as a long time hang glider, sailplane and paraglider pilot. He touched me with his ability to make me feel special."

Ken has a gift for being able to verbalize experiences, feelings, and sensations that are often intangible and even unknown to the rest of us. It is one of the qualities that make him the great instructor that Arjan admired. Once again he has concisely verbalized what many of us have felt on a subconscious level, that Arjan could make us feel special.

That night, driving back to Bishop, Arjan probably made Leo feel very special.

The next day, September 24, Leo's mother, Carol, drove to the Owens Valley from the San Francisco area to see for the first time her son fly his paraglider. When she arrived in the afternoon, she was informed that Leo had just fatally crashed.

As Carol tells the rest of the story (quotes from Carol Geary used with permission):

"Mark (Axen, the competition organizer) took me to see a small group of grieving pilots at the airport. Jan was one of them. He told me about meeting Leo, that he was a very special person, and how glad he was to have met him and spent that time with him. It was comforting to know that Jan had felt meeting Leo was that important, even though their acquaintance was so brief.

The next day I went to the airport to ride up to Gunter launch and watch the pilots. I needed to get a sense of what was worth such a risk. There was Jan, carefully sewing strings in place. (Arjan was hand stitching some repairs to his paraglider.) I was so impressed that he would hand-craft what his life depended on. Also, his quiet strength helped me a lot. He was my best friend there in the midst of my horror."

Carol had Arjan to console her through the first few days of her grief with his "quiet strength" and kind, sincere words; the same skills he used to make us all feel special and good about ourselves. Arjan later sent Carol directions and a map to where Leo had landed in Coaldale Junction. She visited the site on June 19, 1993 and wrote Arjan from the landing zone:

"Here I am at Coaldale Junction, hanging out with you and Leo as if time were adjustable. ... It's wonderful here and I think I can feel the elation. Thanks for your guidance, again."

I believe the comfort that Arjan offered to Carol, he would offer to us today as we grieve his passing. As Carol felt Leo's elation in the landing zone, each of us has in our memory some of Arjan's life energy and with our imagination we can hear his comforting words.

There is very little that makes Arjan's passing easier to accept. There is no understanding or explanation that makes sense of this tragedy. We have only our memories, our imagination, an appreciation of the life that Arjan lived, the comforting words of each other, and the buffer of time to insulate us from our grief. As Arjan comforted Carol, she now offers us the following insight, based on her experiences:

"Although the pain of losing a beloved son never loses strength, I give Leo and Jan their lives to live as they choose. I treasure, create memorials, and affirm their lives. They chose the air, seeing the sunset of their lives from a bird's eye view. Reminds me of words from a church song. 'Life has loveliness to sell, ... For one sweet hour upon the hill, give all you have been, or could be.'"

Arjan, on top of the world, looking toward other adventures.

Good-bye Arjan. We love you and miss you very much.

The Michael Robertson Video Project
With a generous donation from the proceeds of Arjan Ala's estate, Michael Robertson of High Perspective is producing a risk management video dedicated to Arjan's memory. Production of the video began in March 2001.

The 2-hour video will cover a novice level ground school using the Robertson Charts of Reliability (RCR), a systematic method of risk management/good judgment training. It will cover the Wing (the aircraft), the Wind (the weather), and the Windividual (the pilot). The video will include real life stories and testimonials, both humorous and tragic, including the story of Arjan's accident.