"Can you give me a lift to Martin?" asks a young drenched hitchhiker that I stopped for at the top of a rise behind the square in Čadca. She has quite a pretty face, her thin fingers adorned with well-manicured nails shivering slightly with cold and droplets of water running down strands of her long black hair. I fish for a towel from the large bag on the back seat and while she is trying to towel herself down a bit, I pour some St Lawrence wine from a demijohn so that she can warm herself up a bit. Unfortunately I don't take hot tea along with me on races.

    We are slowly driving out of Čadca. After several minutes of conversation and sipping red wine from the cup a healthier colour begins to creep into the girl's cheeks and in the warmth of the cabin she stops shivering with cold. It's raining cats and dogs outside and the windscreen wipers are just bearely managing to keep the water off the windscreen. We see lightening outside and the thunder mixes with the engine noise. As soon as I depart for the races the weather takes a turn for the worse. This year's second league race in the Beskydy Mountains also began in the rain. And now this. It seems that we ran out of good weather during last year's race of the Victoria Cup 2002. In Zilina there is another bad storm and it's rain like cats and dogs. Is this a bad year or what!

    "Stay here. What will you do in Donovaly in the rain?" says a smiling Monika, with a wine-induced twinkle in her eye. I politely refuse. I am a serious person after all. Or maybe a complete idiot? But as always, it depends on your point of view.

    In Donovaly it is truly raining. One rain shower follows another. In the breaks between the rain showers a bunch of enthusiasts is attempting to rake the hay from a mowed landing area and everyone is trying to rake as much as possible. Heavy clouds roll over the surrounding hills, with a spry north-westerly blowing through. The mercury of the thermometer on the external wall of the reception of Kamzík campsite shows a wretched 14°C and it's only noon. One thing is for sure: today will not be a training day, at least as far as flying is concerned.

    "I propose that we take the waiter outside and beat him with a shovel," says someone the very first evening after several rounds of beers and gin. At this rate of alcohol consumption it seems that the poor waiter will barely live to see Tuesday morning.





    Even though the number of competitors in Donovaly can now be estimated at almost thirty, up till this evening only nine pilots have paid the registration fee. The reason is that according to the forecast tomorrow's weather should be the same as today's.