Travel Troubles?.....

How to complain when things go wrong

Say something—but the right way. Experts and readers weigh in
By Laura MacNeil

There's nothing new here if you're a seasoned traveler, but all of the advice is practical; it seems effective and worth keeping in mind.

Stage one: When it happens

Act quickly
Say you're at a hotel and the air-conditioning is feeble or a lightbulb is out. Contact the front desk immediately. If the representative can't or won't remedy the situation, place a call to the company's toll-free customer-service number or, better yet, the frequent-guest rewards program (you did join, right?). When a Holiday Inn in Salem, Va., told Michaelene McWhinney, a BT reader from Greensburg, Pa., that it was out of hangers, McWhinney got in touch with Priority Club customer service. "We had hangers delivered to us within an hour," she says.

Control your emotions
"I can tell you that, hands down, being polite and reasonable when you complain will get you the farthest," says an airline reservation agent who prefers to remain anonymous. "My coworkers and I often talk about how we dig our heels in when someone talks down to us, screams, swears, or threatens us." Bear in mind that you want action, not simply a chance to vent. "If customer-service employees think there's nothing they can do to make you happy, they won't bother," says David Rowell, publisher of The Travel Insider Web site.

The goal is to be firm and clear, without coming off as insulting or aggressive. Maintain your cool throughout all correspondence: Reps will be noting in your record how you behave, so there's little use in turning on the charm after a history of tirades.

Build a case
Keep track of the names of anyone you speak with and the chronology of events. Hold onto receipts, estimates, confirmation numbers, and brochures. You never know when the info will come in handy. Simply noting what the rep was wearing can help. If the behavior of a Continental Airlines staffer is in question, for instance, the airline will want to know if he or she was wearing a red jacket, which distinguishes customer-service representatives from other personnel.

Companies say that having photos to accompany your complaint is unnecessary, and probably won't affect their final decision. If it comes down to your word versus an employee's, however, the right photo just might tilt the outcome in your favor. Certainly, no company wants a photograph painting it in a bad light circulated on a Web site or anywhere else.


Stage two: When there's no quick fix

Take a smart approach
If you used a travel agency, it should work as your advocate before, during, and after the trip. But the responsibility of badgering a company often falls to the customer. While corresponding with a company by letter or e-mail is time-consuming, calling can be frustrating in a different way—you may have to repeat the same story as you're passed along from one employee to another. Often, the issue isn't resolved with a single call.

Include relevant facts
Don't give the company an excuse for dragging its feet in making a decision. Always include your name, address, and phone number, as well as the reservation number, how the reservation was made, and the dates and places involved. You don't have to write a cohesive essay; bullet points will do the job fine.

Try flattery
It never hurts to note the great experiences you've previously had with the company. If you're a member of that company's rewards program, say so. "Mention the overall business you've given them," says BT reader Marie Wilson, of San Carlos, Calif. "If you've logged 50,000 miles with an airline or stayed a lot of nights at that hotel chain, the company will want to know."

Be open-minded about compensation
"I let the agent come up with a solution, rather than demand something specific," says Lesley Woodward, a reader from Kailua-Kona, Hawaii. "His or her offer is sometimes better than I could imagine. If it isn't acceptable, I ask for alternatives." Most companies are extremely reluctant to hand out cash. "If your flight is overbooked, you can ask for a ticket on the next flight out and an upgrade," says Chicago reader Concetta Phillipps. Discounts and vouchers for future bookings with the company are also fairly easy to come by.

Stage three: Following up

Be persistent
Whenever you're not satisfied, press your case with someone else. Call back and try your luck with a different representative, or ask to speak to a supervisor. "If there's nothing else that the manager can offer, ask for the name and number of the district manager," says BT reader Ruthann Galarza of Milwaukee.

Go public
Newspaper travel sections and Budget Travel and other travel magazines want to hear about consumer experiences—especially instances of fraud. They can sometimes shame a company into giving you what you want.

File a complaint with consumer-affairs departments or, in the case of airlines, the Aviation Consumer Protection Division. The agencies are rarely able to intercede, but at least there will be an official record of your dissatisfaction. If you want to warn other travelers, post a note at a user-review site like Epinions or TripAdvisor. The companies we spoke to say such entries don't make a difference in how they resolve complaints. Many companies won't even admit to looking at these sites—which is silly, because potential customers certainly are.

Future intelligence

What will happen when machines outthink us?
At Singularity Summit, futurists say now is the time to plan our strategy
By Marcus Wohlsen


SAN FRANCISCO - At the center of a black hole there lies a point called a singularity where the laws of physics no longer make sense.

In a similar way, according to futurists gathered Saturday for a weekend conference, information technology is hurtling toward a point where machines will become smarter than their makers. If that happens, it will alter what it means to be human in ways almost impossible to conceive, they say.

"The Singularity Summit: AI and the Future of Humanity" brought together hundreds of Silicon Valley techies and scientists to imagine a future of self-programming computers and brain implants that would allow humans to think at speeds nearing today's microprocessors.

Artificial intelligence researchers at the summit warned that now is the time to develop ethical guidelines for ensuring these advances help rather than harm.

"We and our world won't be us anymore," Rodney Brooks, a robotics professor at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, told the audience. When it comes to computers, he said, "who is us and who is them is going to become a different sort of question."

Eliezer Yudkowsky, co-founder of the Palo Alto-based Singularity Institute, which organized the summit, focuses his research on the development of so-called "friendly artificial intelligence." His greatest fear, he said, is that a brilliant inventor creates a self-improving but amoral artificial intelligence that turns hostile.

T-minus 22 years?
The first use of the term "singularity" to describe this kind of fundamental technological transformation is credited to Vernor Vinge, a California mathematician and science-fiction author.

High-tech entrepreneur Ray Kurzweil raised the profile of the singularity concept in his 2005 book "The Singularity is Near," in which he argues that the exponential pace of technological progress makes the emergence of smarter-than-human intelligence the future's only logical outcome.

Kurzweil, director of the Singularity Institute, is so confident in his predictions of the singularity that he has even set a date: 2029.


Most "singularists" feel they have strong evidence to support their claims, citing the dramatic advances in computing technology that have already occurred over the last 50 years.

In 1965, Intel co-founder Gordon Moore accurately predicted that the number of transistors on a chip should double about every two years. By comparison, singularists point out, the entire evolution of modern humans from primates has resulted in only a threefold increase in brain capacity.

With advances in biotechnology and information technology, they say, there's no scientific reason that human thinking couldn't be pushed to speeds up to a million times faster.

Is the ‘nerdocalypse’ near?
Some critics have mocked singularists for their obsession with "techno-salvation" and "techno-holocaust" _ or what some wags have called the coming "nerdocalypse." Their predictions are grounded as much in science fiction as science, the detractors claim, and may never come to pass.

But advocates argue it would be irresponsible to ignore the possibility of dire outcomes.

"Technology is heading here. It will predictably get to the point of making artificial intelligence," Yudkowsky said. "The mere fact that you cannot predict exactly when it will happen down to the day is no excuse for closing your eyes and refusing to think about it."

Get healthy or else

A company says get healthy — or else

Inside one company's all-out attack on medical costs



By Michelle Conlin
Business Week

Reading this, it's hard not to get the feeling that this could easily be a precursor for things to come. It is kind of a long read, but for me it was interesting. Give it a shot.

In August, Joe Pellegrini got yet another nagging phone call. It was his health coach, a woman working on behalf of his employer, the $2.7 billion lawn-care company, Scotts Miracle-Gro Co. The 48-year-old executive knew the spiel by heart. "Have you been to your doctor yet? When are you going?" Then the prescription: "You need to lose weight and you really, really need to lower your cholesterol."

Pellegrini is a supply-chain executive at Scotts' headquarters in Marysville, Ohio, a land of all-you-can-eat buffets smack in the middle of America's obesity belt. At Scotts the hallways are filled with ldl-abusers and overweight diabetics. Pellegrini, by contrast, is an Armani-swaddled triathlete who often cycles 36 miles to and from work. Lose weight? "Give me a break," he thought. "It's all muscle, folks."

But a time bomb was ticking beneath the taut physique. Medical specialists working on behalf of Scotts had been scouring every aspect of Pellegrini's health. His profile—athletic, high body-mass index, and bad cholesterol (brought on by a love of 28-ounce sirloins) — triggered an alarm.

Eventually, Pellegrini succumbed to the company-applied pressure and agreed to abide by his health coach's action plan, which included an immediate visit to his doctor. A few weeks later, a specialist studying Pellegrini's angiogram spotted the heart valve of what should have been a dead man. Within hours, two stents were installed. The surgeons later told him the 95% blockage would have killed him within five days. "It was that close," Pellegrini says.

About the time Pellegrini was cheating death, a lawn-care technician named Scott Rodrigues was having an entirely different experience with the Scotts wellness program. At the time, Rodrigues says he had been working at the company for about two weeks. He recalls a supervisor approaching him in the parking lot at the company's Cape Cod (Mass.) facility and urging him to get rid of the pack of Marlboro reds poking out of the dashboard of his decrepit Civic.



Rodrigues knew Scotts was going tobacco-free on Oct. 1 as part of its effort to improve employee health and cut medical costs. He recalls the company's interviewer saying that once Rodrigues passed the 60-day probation, Scotts would help him quit his 15-year habit — paying for counseling, Nicorette, prescription drugs, hypnosis. Whatever it took.

But on Sept. 1 — which happened to be his 30th birthday—Rodrigues was fired. "Why?" he asked. "You failed your drug test," the boss replied. Rodrigues insisted it had to be a mistake. He didn't even keep beer in the fridge. Then his boss told him the drug was nicotine. "Five years ago, if you had told me, Hey, you better quit smoking or you might not get a job,' I would have laughed. Here I am five years later, and I can't get a job."

In November, Rodrigues filed a lawsuit, now in federal court in Massachusetts. It alleges that Scotts discriminated against Rodrigues by firing him before he was eligible for health-care benefits and had a chance to take advantage of the stop-smoking initiative. The suit also seeks to prohibit Scotts from "enforcing or applying" its anti-nicotine program. The company hopes to have the suit dismissed. Citing its policy of not discussing pending litigation, Scotts declined to comment on the lawsuit.

Two stories — one man saved by the 11th-hour intervention of his employer; another fired on his 30th birthday for smoking — capture the dilemma facing companies around the country. How do executives looking to cut medical costs persuade employees to take better care of themselves without killing morale and spawning lawsuits? It's a question that's very much on the mind of Scotts CEO Jim Hagedorn, who acknowledges his company's wellness program is controversial. "Jack Welch told me: Man, you have balls of steel,'" says Hagedorn. "This is an area where CEOs are afraid to go. A lot of people are watching to see how badly we get sued."



Getting health insurance from your employer is sometimes seen as an entitlement, but the benefit owes its existence to a quirk of history. During World War II, employers desperate to attract workers began offering health insurance. Providing coverage has been an increasing burden for companies ever since. As a result, businesses have been forcing employees to shoulder more and more of the cost.

Some theorized that higher co-payments and pricier premiums would get people to take better care of themselves. It's not happening. "We have this notion that you can gorge on hot dogs, be in a pie-eating contest, and drink every day, and society will take care of you," says Harvard Business School Professor Michael E. Porter, who co-authored Redefining Health Care. "We can't afford to let individuals drive up costs because they're not willing to address their health problems."

Hence the wellness fixation at companies as varied as IBM, Microsoft, Harrah's Entertainment, and Scotts. Employees who voluntarily sign up for such programs often receive discounts on health-care premiums, free weight-loss and smoking-cessation programs, gratis gym memberships, counseling for emotional problems, and prizes like vacations or points that can be redeemed for gift cards.

Companies save money. Employees get healthier. What's not to like? But the wellness craze raises important issues. One is that people could start blaming unhealthy colleagues for helping push up premiums. Then there are the privacy and discrimination issues: How far should managers intrude into employees' lives? That's the essence of the Rodrigues lawsuit.

U.S. business has long evinced a paternalistic streak. Early last century, Ford Motor Co. sent investigators to workers' homes to make sure their sex lives were "unblemished" and they weren't imbibing one too many. Today, Scotts is in the vanguard of companies seeking to monitor and change employee behavior. The company's outlier status reflects the born-again zeal of its CEO. Hagedorn is a reformed nicotine addict himself. He smoked two packs a day for 20 years — until his mother, also a heavy smoker, died of lung cancer. Hagedorn quit the same day.

In the early 2000s, Hagedorn, like many other CEOs, watched health-care costs explode. From what he could see, the government and the health-insurance industry weren't doing anything to solve the crisis. At the same time, Hagedorn's employees were bingeing on care.

In February, 2003, Scotts doubled what workers paid for health insurance. Morale plummeted, and Hagedorn knew he had to do a better job selling the hike. Hagedorn is famous at Scotts for the "straight talk" sessions he holds with staff each quarter. A former F-16 fighter pilot who retains much of his military bravura, Hagedorn laces his sermons with salty language and unvarnished commentary. The CEO got right to the point: We were boneheaded, he told the crowd.



Then again, Hagedorn wanted employees to know what he was up against. Using a PowerPoint presentation, he showed that his annual health-care bill had soared 42% since 1999, to $20 million, which amounted to 20% of the company's net profits in 2003. Costs were projected to surge about 20% that year, vs. the national average of 9%, and keep on climbing at a double-digit rate.

Toward the end of the talk, a young plant worker stood up and scolded Hagedorn. "You guys on the other side of the street, you got fancy financial advisers," he said. "How can you make me responsible for managing my finances and health care and not educate me? I only have a high school education." Hagedorn left the meeting thinking: "The guy's right."

A few months later, Hagedorn was watching CNN. A doctor was arguing that employers should get serious about obesity, smoking, and diabetes. Companies were paying the bills, he said, so they could do something. As it happens, Hagedorn had recently seen Scotts' health-risk assessment: Half of his 6,000 employees were overweight or morbidly obese; a quarter of them smoked.

The CNN program prompted an epiphany. Hagedorn wanted to share it right away with his human resources chief, Denise Stump. It was after 11 p.m., but he called her at home anyway. "Denise," he said, "we are moving into FEBA [forward-edge battle area]." Hagedorn told her he wanted to ban smoking and go after obesity. To achieve these aims, he proposed launching the kind of companywide intervention that families use to help an addicted relative.

Instituting such a policy wasn't a matter of saying, "Let it be so." Legal worried the plan might violate federal laws. Other advisers told the CEO point blank: Don't go there. And getting outside advice wasn't going to be easy. Many law firms were knee-deep in tobacco litigation and wouldn't go near Scotts' wellness initiative. Nor would board member Lynn Beasley. As chief operating officer for tobacco maker R.J. Reynolds, Beasley saw the conflict right away and quit the Scotts board. Stump recalls thinking: "We're going too fast."

Hagedorn isn't easily dissuaded. The 51-year-old CEO talks like a swaggering teenager, with "yo" this and "dude" that. A runaway at 15, Hagedorn still flies his rebel flag: A photo in his office features him giving the middle-finger salute.

Needless to say, Hagedorn got his way. Scotts hired a boutique law firm. And before long, the company had determined that in 21 states, including home-base Ohio, it wasn't illegal to hire and fire people based on their smoking habits. Scotts also realized it needed to create an arm's-length relationship with the wellness program. No one wanted to give managers an opportunity to discriminate against employees based on their health. That meant bringing in a third party to run the thing.

In 2005, Scotts hired Whole Health Management. The firm manages on-site primary care and fitness centers for dozens of corporations. Whole Health aggregates health and insurance claim data so Scotts can divine trends. But individual data are kept strictly confidential. Stump began selling the concept to employees. She held role-playing sessions to teach workers what to say if they bumped into each other in the clinic. On-site doctors told employees they would never betray confidences.



During one of Hagedorn's straight-talk sessions, workers told him a company gym would make wellness easier to swallow. "Done," Hagedorn said. But his vision went far beyond installing some StairMasters and throwing up health pointers on the Scotts intranet. Hagedorn built a soup-to-nuts medical and fitness center across the street from headquarters. Operated by Whole Health, the 24,000-square-foot facility cost $5 million and can meet pretty much meet any health-related need an employee might have, including a drive-thru for free prescription drugs. The clinic employs two full-time doctors, five nurses, a dietician, counselor, and two physical therapists. A team of fitness coaches provides personal training sessions for $30 an hour.

Scotts employees are now urged to take exhaustive health-risk assessments. Those who balk pay $40 a month more in premiums. Using data-mining software, Whole Health analysts scour the physical, mental, and family health histories of nearly every employee and cross-reference that information with insurance-claims data. Health coaches identify which employees are at moderate to high risk. All of them are assigned a health coach who draws up an action plan. Those who don't comply pay $67 a month on top of the $40. "We tried carrots," says Benefits Chief Pam Kuryla. "Carrots didn't work."

Many employees found Hagedorn's new policy intrusive. Topic A: the health assessment questionnaires, which asked things like: Do you smoke? Drink? What did your parents die of? Do you feel down, sad, hopeless? Burned out? How is your relationship with your spouse? Your kids? Are you pregnant, diabetic, suffering from high cholesterol? The tobacco ban was controversial, too, especially at the manufacturing plants, where Skoal chewers are common. Hagedorn wasn't unsympathetic. After all, it took his own wife three years to quit smoking. Scotts employees would get all the help they needed.

Workers told the CEO they were angry. Hagedorn concedes the program had Big Brother overtones. But he's adamant about bringing down health costs—even if it means being authoritarian. "If people understand the facts and still choose to smoke, it's suicidal," he says. "And we can't encourage suicidal behavior."

As chief wellness salesman, Hagedorn took it upon himself to motivate employees. He walks around campus joking, slapping guts, and exhorting people to work out. Hagedorn routinely teases Dave Overfield, who toils in the plant and whose weight has soared 40 pounds since he quit chewing tobacco.

"I'm working on it," Overfield tells his boss.

"You better be," Hagedorn shoots back.

The nudging begets peer pressure. Gym rats earn special pins they display on ID badge lanyards; these have become a coveted status object. Competition for trips to Hawaii, free massages and facials, and other cash and prizes is fierce. One group of employees started having lunch together every day to keep each other from peeling out of the parking lot for a smoke. Doughnuts have disappeared. "The message is: If you're not trying to do something to make yourself better, then you're going to pay more," says Kuryla.

Jim Lowe gets that. The 54-year-old forklift driver loved to eat. He started each day with two doughnuts. Lunch was a pair of Whoppers and fries. Nighttime involved a bag of chips, a couch, and a clicker. Lowe's philosophy was simple: "Let's don't go to a place that'll serve us a helping. Let's go to a buffet where you can eat all you want." He weighed 307 pounds.

He was the perfect candidate for the wellness crusade. Before long a dietician was telling Lowe exactly what to eat, and a personal trainer was showing him exactly how to work out. Soon Lowe was losing an average of four pounds a week. Co-workers at the plant began asking if he was taking diet pills. They gossiped that he had had gastric bypass surgery. Lowe proudly told them he was doing it "natural, working out and watching what I eat."

Lowe had always loved the way Wrangler jeans hung on his hero, country singer George Strait. But he couldn't get them in the Big & Tall catalog he ordered everything from. Lowe hadn't been in a clothing store for 15 years. The day he hit his goal of losing 137 pounds, he headed to Kohl's, where he tried on a pair of Wranglers; his eyes filled with tears. "I'm not trying to be Hercules," says Lowe as he pinches his gut between his fingers. "But as you can see, there's not a lot of flab."

So far, the company says, more than 70% of headquarters staff belongs to the fitness center. The smoking-cessation program has already had a 30% success rate. The wellness program, which costs $4 million a year to run, is a financial drain. But the company expects it to pay for itself in three to four years. Other large companies have seen a 3-to-1 return on investment in their wellness programs.

It's all pretty encouraging, except that if Rodrigues wins his case, it could set a precedent and then open the door to big-money lawsuits. So far, Scotts says it has not fired anyone else for using tobacco. In fact, because Rodrigues wasn't employed long enough to pass the probation period, the company argues that he was never officially an employee.

It's impossible to tell how the case will come out because there is so little case law. This much is certain: Rodrigues' lawyer, Harvey A. Schwartz, will argue that Scotts' wellness program amounts to a slippery slope. "Where will all this end?" he asks. "The consumption of alcohol, failure to exercise, skydiving, excessive television viewing, eating processed sugars, owning dangerous pets, flying private aircraft, mountain climbing, downhill ski racing, singlehanded sailing, or spreading toxic chemicals on lawns?"

Where will it all end? Companies ask themselves the same question but from a different angle. In the absence of a solution to the health-care mess, businesses are on an unsustainable path. Hence the rush into wellness. Perhaps that's why Hagedorn is getting leeway from shareholders, including his own family, which controls 30% of the public shares. The stock is up 58% since Scotts launched its wellness program. If Hagedorn pulls this off, he'll be a hero in boardrooms around the country.

URL: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/17227335/

Wii

Computer games 'burn up calories'

Parents should encourage other physical activities and outdoor pursuits in order for their children to lead well-balanced live

Professor Tim Cable Liverpool John Moores University






Players use body movements to control the action
Playing new style computer games can help people burn up a significant amount of calories, research has found.
Games consoles such as Nintendo Wii require players to use body movements to control the action.

A study by Liverpool John Moores University found regular use could help shift 27lb (12.25kg) a year.

The study was carried out to establish whether computer games can contribute to the daily activity recommendations for children.

The researchers compared activity levels during gaming using the Wii with those achieved using traditional seated joypad-controlled consoles.

They found more active forms of gaming increased energy expenditure to a level which could help lose weight.

Heart rate

Lead researcher Professor Tim Cable said: "Through our testing it is clear that the motion sensor-controlled console can make an impact on a child's heart rate, energy expenditure and the amount of calories burned.

"Research from GameVision's Consumer Intelligence Report shows that, on average, gamers in the UK currently spend around 12.2 hours a week playing computer games.

"Therefore, it is important to promote as much activity as possible during this time."

Professor Cable said active consoles such as the Wii could provide a means of motivating children who are less active.

But he added: "Parents should encourage other physical activities and outdoor pursuits in order for their children to lead well-balanced lives."


The study measured the impact on five girls and seven boys, aged between 13 and 15, of playing both an active and inactive console.

During 15 minutes of play using a traditional joypad operated console, energy expenditure increased above resting values by an average 60%.

In comparison, when using the Wii console, the participants' energy expenditure increased 156% above resting.

Based on the average gaming week of 12.2 hours, this translates to a potential 1,830 calories burned per week when using Wii - 40% more than when using a traditional format console.

In both conditions the energy expenditure of boys was greater than that observed for girls.

Heart rates were also much greater when using the active console, reaching values of 130 beats per minute, compared with 85 beats per minute for the traditional console.

Dr Ian Campbell, medical director of the charity Weight Concern, said children should be encouraged to play outside, and that parents should limit the amount of time they played computer games.

However, he said: "Children do play these computer games because they find them fascinating, and so it would be best if the games they play include an element of physical activity."

Paraglider survives soaring storm

Paraglider survives after soaring to 32,000 feet
Woman awakens encased in ice after going higher than Mount Everest

• Glider lives through thunderstorm


Feb. 16: A paraglider lives to tell her story of being swept up into the atmosphere during a thunder and lightning storm. MSNBC.com's Dara Brown reports.







CANBERRA, Australia - A German paraglider was encased in ice and blacked out after being sucked into a tornado-like thunderstorm in Australia and carried to a height greater than Mount Everest. She survived.

“The glider kept climbing, climbing and I couldn’t see anything," recalled Ewa Wisnerska. "Then it got dark."

The 2005 World Cup winner was lifted 32,612 feet (9,940 meters) above sea level by the storm near Manilla in New South Wales state while preparing for the tenth FAI World Paragliding Championships next week.

A 42-year-old Chinese paraglider, He Zhongpin, was killed by the same weather system, apparently from a lack of oxygen and extreme cold, the organizers said. His body was found on Thursday 47 miles from his launch site.

“You can’t imagine the power. You feel like nothing, like a leaf from a tree going up,” Wisnerska told Australian Broadcasting Corp. radio on Friday. “I was shaking all the time. The last thing I remember it was dark, I could hear lightning all around me.”

'No oxygen' in the death zoneWisnerska, a member of the German team, had been carried to a height greater than the 29,035-foot Mount Everest — an area known to mountaineers as the death zone for its extreme cold — in just 10 minutes and was rendered unconscious for almost an hour.

She encountered hailstones the size of oranges, and the temperature plummeted to minus 58 Fahrenheit.

“There’s no oxygen. She could have suffered brain damage. But she came to again at a height of 6,900 meters with ice all over her body and slowly descended herself,” said Godfrey Wenness, one of Australia’s most experienced paraglider pilots.

Wisnerska was admitted to hospital with severe frostbite and blistering to her face and ears, but has since been released.

She had been trying to fly around the rapidly developing storm front, but became trapped when two storm cells merged, Wenness said.

Sudden severe thunderstorms are common during the Australian summer and come with destructive hail, winds and torrential rain.

Wisnerska, whose flight was tracked by her personal GPS and computer, landed 40 miles from her launch site.

A British team member earlier this month survived an attack by two wild eagles which sent her canopy plummeting while flying in the same area ahead of the championships.