Paragliding

It finally worked out for Anne Sophie, Sidsel, and I to go paragliding. We were given a beautiful day, and arrived in Frutigen all smiles.

Paragliding is when a person goes to the top of a mountain, attaches themselves to a parachute like apparatus (glider), runs really fast until the wind catches the glider, and then floats down to the bottom of the mountain.

We arrived at Cloud 7's hangar just in time to watch several paragliders landing. And by several, I mean at least 25. We got there 20 minutes early and stood watching our fate float down from the clouds. It was very exciting, but wierd that no one approached us and introduced themselves. We got a few glances, and an occasional grusse, but when we responded with hello, they figured out we spoke English and walked away. After a while of standing awkwardly around and a few cookies, we were greeted by our instructor.

Our instructor was Hans Peter, and he happened to be the instructor Anne Sophie had a few years back when she had gone paragliding before. He was a short, tan, blond curly haired man, very much looking the part of a Hans Peter. He spoke some English, but it was clear that he wouldn't understand everything we said.

As the bus loaded up with those that had just landed, he looked at us and said "we have space problem, we take next bus." So we nodded, smiled, and stood awkwardly for about 10 more minutes (and had one more cookie).

Upon the next bus' arrival, it was loaded and finally Hans Peter came to us and said we could get in. We sandwiched in the back between some talkative Swiss men and began our ascent via passenger van to the jumping off point (of course we assumed that's where we were headed because no one really told us our destination).

On the way, in true Swiss fashion, we zig zagged through several cow pastures. Apparently the cows were use to the van because it did not phase them when the van passed by fatally close. At one point, Hans Peter slammed on brakes (for of course he was the driver) because one such cow was in the middle of the road. He edged up to it and touched it with the front of the van...nothing. Then he touched it again, the cow seemed startled, collected itself, and then slowly wandered out of the way, only to move back to the middle of the road once the van was gone, much to the dismay of the car behind us.

Once we were up to the snow covered part of the mountain, it was time to unload. So we stepped out of the van and tried our best to get out of the "professional's" way. Finally, Hans Peter approached us and said, "Now I tell you what to do. There are too parts, first part the glider is in air and you are jogging. The second part is...well...run like hell."

As he proceeded to explain some more things, I was busy trying to figure out how I was going to run like hell in the snow attached to a parachute without busting my ass. We then picked our instructors, aka the men we would be paragliding tandum style with, and I latched onto Hans Peter. He was, after all, the only one who spoke English. And I, after all, wanted to understand all my instructions.

The thing is after that pep talk there were no more instructions. I paid the man, signed my life away on a tablet, and then let this complete stranger strap me into a harness, a glider, and himself. And then he said, "Ready?"

"Yes"

"Go"

So I started to run, but as soon as I did, the wind caught the glider and my feet barely touched the ground. Then...

"Run"

And I knew this to be the time to run like hell, and I did, well I tried. My legs were moving very fast, but they were no longer touching the ground. We were up in the air. And there I was floating down the mountain towards the valley. I said, "That wasn't hard." And he just made a noise indicating semi comprehension.

After a while, "Do you like roller coaster?"

I, of course, nodded yes, and he said, "Good, we will do some acrobatics before landing."

Then as we neared the ground, he started to swing the glider. We swung back and forth, fun, but nothing too thrilling. Then, "Now, we spin."

And spin we did.

The force was so strong that it shot all the snot that had been running out of my nose into the back of my throat. Thanks for the lunch Hans Peter. But it was wonderful. Exactly the thrill I needed, after dropping the cash I did to do this. I've been parasailing before, and it wasn't much different besides being over mountains instead of ocean, but the spin made it worth it.

Then, about 1 minute before landing, Hans Peter says, "I will land you on your butt. Lift legs when I say."

A minute later "Lift."

I did, and he did indeed land me on my ass.

It was a good day. The sun was out and I was full on my meal in the sky. And although the most clear English Hans Peter spoke was "run like hell," I never doubted his ability to jump off a mountain with me and land me safely in the valley below.

I'm insane.