"Style"

What, you may ask, is 'style'? It's hard to put into words, but I can give some examples.
Style is NOT
· A shaky launch.
· Flailing around in the air.
· Heading out low across unlandable terrain without any real idea what you'll do if you sink out.
· Committing yourself to fields in which you couldn't possibly land.
· Doing things you know are unwise.
· Accepting exposure, not because you WANT to, but because you think it's EXPECTED of you.
· Pounding in an easy landing in a beautiful green field next to an isolated rural college filled with attractive members of the appropriate gender and/or species.
Style IS
· Using your brain.
· Good solid skills.
· Flying well enough to stay high so you can cross unlandable terrain with some margin of altitude.
· Knowing where you'll go if you sink out.
· Making good decisions and pulling them off.
· Recognizing exposure BEFORE you accept it, and only accepting that exposure if you, AND YOU ALONE, are prepared to make that commitment.
· Finishing your flight with a perfect landing in a beautiful green field next to an isolated rural college filled with attractive members of the appropriate gender and/or species who are so impressed by your prowess that they ask you for my phone number.
One of the best XC pilots I know said, "The real question in XC is how much you're willing to inconvenience yourself." It's true. The pilots who fly the farthest are often the ones who accept the most exposure, and you can often tack quite a few miles onto a flight by taking a few chances. Chances that don't pay off can lead to 'inconvenience'.
This 'inconvenience' can take many forms: a long hike out, broken aluminum, an argument with a landowner, a night in the desert, or a ride in a helicopter followed by a day or two in intensive care. All of these things make for good stories, but I ask you again, are these the kind of stories you want to collect?
There's a special kind of glory in flying near the edge of ones abilities, taking chances that later seem foolish, flailing around at the narrow edge of fear, and then saving oneself through determination, will, and the power of one's own living brain. You've done it, I've done it, and we're all going to do it again because we know that nothing can compare with that feeling. What we tend to forget is that there's a different kind of glory -- more subtle, perhaps, but also more satisfying -- in staying within the limits of our abilities but flying extremely well. We might not always fly quite as far that way (though sometimes we fly even farther!) but we get there in style.