Bzzzzzzringalingringalingbzzzzzzringalingringaling. The sound of my alarm pulls me out of dreamland and opens my eyes to the darkness inside my tent. I groan and roll over -
alarm, be quiet. i'm up. I slowly sit up, rubbing my eyes and reminding myself why I made myself wake up at this ungodly hour.
I'm flying, that's why. The conditions are supposed to be good and we're driving up to the Chalet, Mitch, Laurie, Moll, Fletch, and I, to get in an early-morning flight before work. How do we fly, you ask? We paraglide.
The sun peeks its fiery orange head over the mountains as we climb up the Princeton road. The road is good, I'm told, better than what it used to be. It's been filled in, and truth be told, Mitch's pick-up makes it to the top with no problems. We wind through the pine trees, streaks of neon orange light breaking through the space between branches. What with the orange sun in the purple and pink sky, I feel like I should be running with a herd of antelope or zebras as Elton John sings
Nants ingonyama bagithi Baba to the morning and baby Simba. But what I hear is not an African chant; it's classic rock from the River Rat. The higher up we go, the more radio stations we have to peruse.
We reach the end of the road above treeline and hop out of the truck, immediately met by a steady breeze. This bodes well for our flight, and it's even a little on the strong side, but at least there's moving air. That's what we're counting on, after all, and it's heading west over Princeton's shoulder, perfect for this launch site. Antero looms massive and majestic in the tangerine morning, the best backdrop for our adventure. Mitch gives Moll and I some paperwork to fill out while he and Laurie stretch out their wings. We'll be 30-day members of some national paragliders' association after this flight, which we're technically taking as students. Makes sense, because both our pilots know a lot about flying. They know a lot about everything they do, which is why I trust them to strap me into a harness and let them do the work.
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| Setting up the wings. |
I pull on my raincoat and helmet and head for Laurie's setup, where she's beckoning with my harness. She straps me in first and then herself, connecting us both to the wing by a hundred thin kevlar strings. She explains the take-off procedure.
We'll start off hip to hip while I build a wall with the wing, so keep dancing with me. Get down in a low, aggressive stance. When I say run, run. Keep running until we're well off the ground.
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| Getting ready to build a wall of air with the wing. |
I barely have time to contemplate what she's told me before I feel a backwards tug as she lets some air into the cells of the wing. Luckily I've seen this before, when I drove for them last week. She's building the wall, lean forward, watch out for rocks, please don't fall on your face.
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| Building the wall with the wing. |
We're ready, she says. On the count of three, I'm going to pull the wing up, and it will pull you backwards, so be ready. Then start to move forward. One, two, three. The wind under the wing drags us back, then there's a momentary lapse and I forget what to do next. Run, she says. I run. Each step contacts less of the ground than the one before it, until we're airborne. Keep running, just in case, she says. I look down and move my feet, but we're well above the rocks by then. Out of the corner of my eye I see the white mops of mountain goats as they scatter below us, startled by this new presence in the sky. Two people, flying.
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| Getting the wing up and taking off - RUN! |
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| Taking off. |
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| In the air! |
Get comfortable, she says. I pull my elbows in, tuck them back behind the webbing, and pull myself into the bucket seat that doubles as my harness. We're flying, I tell her. Duh.
She already knows that, but this is too cool to filter what I say. We glide over the trees and turn around as we round the shoulder, and see Mitch and Moll in the air too. They must have launched pretty quickly after us, we say. Lean right, she says. We spiral around in the air, getting jolted upwards by a mild thermal. Back to center, she says. Now lean left. We go spinning back the other direction, rounding the edge of the shoulder and coming over the Chalk Cliffs. Their odd white rock formations cast sharp shadows against the orange creme sunlight, and I'm reminded of the Dollhouse in Cataract Canyon. I tell her so, and she replies that the cliffs are pretty cool, aren't they. Look at that cave, I say. These cliffs go a lot deeper than they look from the road.
I should've brought my camera. I was worried about it in the take-off and landing, but it would've been okay.
I hope Fletch got some good shots for us. I didn't even notice if he had my camera in his hands.
Mitch and Moll are above us, going into G-spirals and getting almost upside down. We lean right and turn over some cabins at the foot of the mountain, closing in on the LZ. Mitch swoops in below us, so we let him land first. Laurie explains the landing.
We'll be coming in kind of fast, so you can either try to run it out or slide in like a baseball player. If you slide, try to take a couple running steps first. That doesn't sound too hard. We watch Moll run out his landing like a champ, and then Laurie tells me to slide out of my seat and get ready. As we near the ground, I start moving my legs, running in mid-air.
Here comes the ground. Uh oh, my legs are still bent and it's already here. We slide into the soft dirt and send a brown cloud flying. Sorry I misjudged that one, I say. It's okay, she says. Nice job. High five.
All the sudden I'm burning up in all my layers. Longjohns, under armor, wool socks, fleece, fleece, rain jacket. In flight I was fine, but down here in the sun and stagnant air, it's warm. I help Laurie refold her wing. We see a black car pull up along the road and a guy hops out, running over and asking if we're for hire. Well, Mitch and Laurie, since they're the pilots. The man is here for a week with his family, renting one of the cabins we just flew over, and had to come find us when he saw us in the air. He's running a race today, climbing a fourteener tomorrow, but how about the 4th of July? Will you be flying then? Yes, Mitch says, the forecast looks good. We meet at 5:30 in the morning. Does that work for him? Yes, I can do that. Gives me time to run a race in Leadville later. Here, take our card and give us a call.
We finish packing up the wings and sit by the road to wait. Here comes Fletch now, in Mitch's truck, just down from our launch spot. How was the flight, he asks. So cool.
I've never done anything like that before. I'll never see Princeton the same way now. I have a new thing to talk to my custies about. And they'll take me again, as long as I drive for them. So cool.
