It was a icy blustery Saturday morning when we arrived at the south side of the mountain. The wind was cold and smooth; as our cheeks froze and turned apple red, we took a couple of minutes to review our pre-flight plans.
The instructor checked our helmets and the attached radio's and then and there we discovered the batteries to be dead.
Toast! Relief and disappointment had a quick game of tug of war before my sweetheart decisively left to get batteries.
I kited my loaner paraglider; reviewing the lines and the 'flight plan" (Flight plan = float a few seconds to the bottom). I marveled at the strong, steady air, my instructor chuckled, "Its not enough for you to fly in this morning". In twenty minutes or two split seconds, batteries had arrived.
No less than a hair space later I ran to the edge and felt the world drop 300 feet (I swear it was a billion feet) from beneath me.
Hanging there, I looked down and around and thought “Wow.”
The radio whistled and cracked in my ear and I jumped out of my skin, “Let’s go ahead and take a left turn.” The voice said through the static.
A left turn? I thought about that… oh, yes. I remember there was something about pulling on the left handle a bit to turn.
That is really really far down. I don’t remember the hill being quite this far up. The ground swung up just a little and I remembered the air was my friend now; it was the ground that could be unfriendly.
“How about starting the right turn?” The voice suddenly asked. Again I was so startled that I nearly left the harness.
Gosh… There is nothing under my feet for a really long way! How disconcerting...
I leaned heavily into my right turn and the glider slowly swung sorta right. The thing really felt like an indulgently fat boat. Good natured about the whole turning thing, but definitely not in any hurry about it.
I wonder how far up I am? I have been up here forever. I wonder what I can see from here? I squinted out and then back down at the dusty rocks and grass. Wow, this is really far up!
Later, on the ground, as I packed up the glider, I realized I had forgotten the "flight plan". I had completely forgotten fear. I had forgotten that I owned a dog or really wanted a box garden. In fact I could not tell you anything about anything while I was up there for those thirty second years.
I remembered that I forgot to really look around. I was too fascinated by the fact that the ground had never before been that far away from just me and my feet.
Two hours later the adrenaline stopped shaking my hands. Two days later my toes are still tingly.
The instructor checked our helmets and the attached radio's and then and there we discovered the batteries to be dead.
Toast! Relief and disappointment had a quick game of tug of war before my sweetheart decisively left to get batteries.
I kited my loaner paraglider; reviewing the lines and the 'flight plan" (Flight plan = float a few seconds to the bottom). I marveled at the strong, steady air, my instructor chuckled, "Its not enough for you to fly in this morning". In twenty minutes or two split seconds, batteries had arrived.
No less than a hair space later I ran to the edge and felt the world drop 300 feet (I swear it was a billion feet) from beneath me.
Hanging there, I looked down and around and thought “Wow.”
The radio whistled and cracked in my ear and I jumped out of my skin, “Let’s go ahead and take a left turn.” The voice said through the static.
A left turn? I thought about that… oh, yes. I remember there was something about pulling on the left handle a bit to turn.
That is really really far down. I don’t remember the hill being quite this far up. The ground swung up just a little and I remembered the air was my friend now; it was the ground that could be unfriendly.
“How about starting the right turn?” The voice suddenly asked. Again I was so startled that I nearly left the harness.
Gosh… There is nothing under my feet for a really long way! How disconcerting...
I leaned heavily into my right turn and the glider slowly swung sorta right. The thing really felt like an indulgently fat boat. Good natured about the whole turning thing, but definitely not in any hurry about it.
I wonder how far up I am? I have been up here forever. I wonder what I can see from here? I squinted out and then back down at the dusty rocks and grass. Wow, this is really far up!
Later, on the ground, as I packed up the glider, I realized I had forgotten the "flight plan". I had completely forgotten fear. I had forgotten that I owned a dog or really wanted a box garden. In fact I could not tell you anything about anything while I was up there for those thirty second years.
I remembered that I forgot to really look around. I was too fascinated by the fact that the ground had never before been that far away from just me and my feet.
Two hours later the adrenaline stopped shaking my hands. Two days later my toes are still tingly.
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