2-3

16-6-2013

Sunday, early morning. The clouds over the valley below made it impossible to jump. We had to wait until they were clear, around 11:00 AM. The wind wasn't blowing, which meant the time had come for my first frontal take-off. Too early in my flying career, if you ask me. With the directions from my instructor, I got it right at my first try, though. I never got to see the wing during the take-off, I had to completely trust my instructor. Pending: I have to learn unaided frontal take-offs.

The first thing I noticed is that I no longer panicked when I stopped feeling the ground beneath my feet. That was some progress from the first jump. However, I still felt uneasy when I had to pull the handles, and the flight was pretty much a straight line towards the landing site. Mostly, I enjoyed the ride. There was very little thermal activity, so my wing wasn't shaken very much. I'm still scared of thermal bumps.

I got to the landing site with some extra altitude, so I just circled around shyly while going down some more. The landing was not good, I landed on my butt, but I was uninjured.

Later that day, I had my third jump. There was some favorable wind, so a reverse take-off was due. However there were two unfavorable factors: My instructor was busy somewhere else, and I had an audience. See, the place where I jump from is an adventure park owned by my uncle/instructor. My first two jumps were during the early morning of sundays, when people are usally hung over; but this one was during the afternoon, with people gathered watching the pilots jump. I got nervous. I made several unsuccessful attempts. It was hot. I finally got it right after 15-20 minutes.

There was a lot of thermal activity. My wing shook and I got scared. I was swinging a lot because of entering/exiting thermals. Of course I didn't attempt to climb one, I just went straight and got to the landing site with a lot of height. I just hovered over the landing site until I judged I could make my approach. I got it wrong, I was still too high to do that. I couldn't yet tell if I was 30, 50 or 100 meters above the ground. I reached the edge of the landing site and I was still around 10 meters above the ground.

On the next land patch there were some big, dry, thorny thickets, and I was heading right towards them. In the last second, a wind current (I would learn minutes later those are called "gradients") came suddenly and lifted me just enough to clear the thickets. Right after that, I just pulled the brakes and dashed towards the ground from 4-5 meters above. It was quite a violent landing, but even then I was unscathed. I was very lucky.

I know some day I may have an accident. But it was not that day, at least. Moreover, I learned a lot with those two flights. I'm starting to really like it.

1

26-05-2013

I've been taking paragliding lessons for some time, taking advantage of me having mentally disturbed relatives who enjoy leaping into the void.

Fuck gravity, I've got the imprudence gene from my mother's side.

Finally, the day came when I could leap on my own. It was awful. I mean, I was looking forward to it so much, and I prepared for it for so long... And yet I think such is like the first time for some pilots. There's just something unnatural in running towards a cliff's edge and jump. I guess I just have to get used to it.

Or take a leap of faith, like Indiana Jones. But that's not for me.

I had flown before, in tandems. Being a mere passenger, one just chills out and enjoys the ride. But having control is something else entirely. Now I know. It's like when you drive a car for the first time: You take a glance every two seconds at the pedals and the gear stick, just to make sure you aren't screwing anything up.

Lesson #2: "R" doesn't stand for "Rapid".

I had sincerely thought I'd enjoy my first solo flight. I did a perfect reverse take-off, but the moment I stopped feeling the ground beneath my feet, I just panicked. "What the hell, what are you doing, dumbass?", I kept saying to myself, while the ground seemed far enough to get broken to pieces from a fall, and yet close enough to make a fall unavoidable. I started breathing excitedly and got tense, paralyzed, not daring to pull the handles. Fortunately I had jumped on an empty stomach.

"Flying? Nah bro, if you really want to feel like a bird, you've gotta take a shit from up here."

My instructor (and uncle) was telling me directions on the portable radio, and I started getting confident by steering the devilish device I was hanging from by leaning towards either side. When I was approaching the landing area, I had some minutes during which I really enjoyed being up there. I looked at the cars transiting a higway below and thought, "poor bastards", just before having to start worrying about my actual landing and being a poor bastard myself; because I have to say, I totally forgot everything about the landing procedure and did the opposite of it all: I landed in the wind's direction instead of against it, and I forgot to pull off from the harness, so I landed on my butt. Fortunately I came out of it in one piece, thus proving to my terrestrial organism that it can keep away those pesky panic reactions.

After the flight, while I was smiling stupidly, a good friend told me he would have liked to keep a record of all his flights: The date, the things learned, the thoughts and feelings. "With time, you fly so many times that you start to forget some of them", he said. So here I am.

As an actual flight it was no big deal, just gliding downwards for a few minutes. I've still got so much things to learn: Maneuvers, wind currents, cloudiness, a good brand of nerve pills, and other things I'm not even aware I have to know. But this one will always be my first, and that makes it special. Now I just hope this thing is like sex, more enjoyable every time.