leap of faith
i guess that is a fairly predictable title, but hey.
this morning, barely awake and feeling much much more than a little nervous I was doing up the zip on my backpack when I heard a shout. It was the hostel staff. The driver had arrived. Inwardly I groaned, I was hoping it would be cancelled.
Carlos the driver didn't speak much english. He understood when I showed him my trembling hand but that was about it. But he knew how to drive up hills. Steep ones.
At a roadside laybay close to the top of this mountain (by now it was painfully apparent that the term hill was an understatement) I transferred cars. Meet Paulo the hang glider. Paulo seemed nice enough and at least he spoke english. pretty well actually. If I thought the roads had been steep before, now they got really steep and very narrow.
We got out of the car in a clearing and climbed some steps. Paulo had been telling me how the wind was not ideal so our running on the launch ramp would be very important. I said ok and tried not to think about it.
We reached the platform. For the first time I realised how high we were. It was like looking out of an aeroplane window, the instant before you pass through the clouds and can't see the ground anymore. High. It wasn't really possible to look over the edge though. The way the ramp was set up, it sloped down at an angle of maybe 15 degrees. The view from the platform was of treetops. An expanse of greenery. It wasn't too scarey. But the idea of jumping was. I was breathing deeper.
Dry mouth now, and needing to pee, Paulo helped me into my harness. He explained that the wind had taken a turn for the worse and was now coming from over our right shoulders. If the wind speed away from the ramp matched our running speed, we would leave the ramp with the air having no net speed passing over the wing. We would plummet. The message was clear: wind towards us was good, wind from behind us was bad. I tried to discern whether he was trying to make sure I would play ball.. by hyping it to life and death. It didn't seem that way. He seemed concerned.
We watched the windsock for 6 or 7 minutes. It barely changed. But then Paulo decided that maybe it was ok. Not good, but not terrible. He asked me if I was ready. I paused. To be honest I was thinking, is he chancing it. The windsock hasn't moved. Is the 240 reals that he will lose if we do not go the deciding factor here? Does he forever walk the line between self-preservation and avarice? I tried to forget the thoughts. He took my pause for fear (which ultimately it was) and asked again, more forcefully. Can I trust you to run? Not to let the fear make you freeze halfway down the ramp? I said yes and nodded, but I did not really know.
Then the moment had come. He picked up the frame of the hangglider and walked back 3 paces, me at his side. We put our right feet forward and stood upright. He counted: 1, 2, 3 and we ran onto the ramp and down the ramp. Of course I don't remember running down the ramp at all. I do know that I never stopped looking straight ahead at the clouds in front that we seemed to be on the level of. Never look down. Then my feet were not touching the ground any more and the body naturally moved to the hanging position. All I could see was treetops directly below us, I don't know how far. Far enough, they seemed small. During the first few moments of intensity, Paulo did not speak. I was happy: I wanted him to dedicate everything to making sure we would be ok. Maybe 20 seconds in I asked, how are we doing? the answer was fine. Relief. But by now my leg had started shaking. Adrenaline twitches. I realised I was scared, but my mind was beyond the jelly/fear state and in a must-survive state - I was very alert, in full control of myself. At 08.15 in the morning. It's a first!
Maybe 3 minutes in I started to be able to appreciate the view. Still it seemed unreal, like a giant TV screen below us, showing the most remarkable vista. But I could turn to my left and see the sugar loaf mountain in the distance beyond copacabana, and in front of us was the edge of the Tijuca national park, where the blocks of flats stretched into the sky a few blocks behind the beach. We flew straight over them, still very high above. Heading out to the ocean, we started to lose height. By now I had grinned inanely at the wing mounted camera a few times as Paulo hit the remote control to take pictures. We turned through 180 degrees above the water, an amazing sensation. We looked back at the beach and the buildings and the mountain where we set off from.
Aligned now along the beach we dipped, gaining speed. This felt ok. Paulo had said some people tense up once the glider dips, but it felt fine. I have been on worse 747s :) Then a quick pull on the bar and the glider raised its nose. We stalled, 2 feet above the sand and dropped lightly onto it. One or two steps and we were stationary. A wave of euphoria.
I was alive. For the first time today I felt relaxed and happy. Euphoric actually. Not at the experience; although it was incredible I never managed to enjoy being up there because of the fear. But at overcoming my fear of heights, at not backing out and at controlling my emotions.. and most of all at still being alive, I felt amazing.
And for those reasons, it didn't matter that for some reason we hadn't been surrounded by hugely impressed beautiful girls when we landed. Maybe they got the wrong beach :)
this morning, barely awake and feeling much much more than a little nervous I was doing up the zip on my backpack when I heard a shout. It was the hostel staff. The driver had arrived. Inwardly I groaned, I was hoping it would be cancelled.
Carlos the driver didn't speak much english. He understood when I showed him my trembling hand but that was about it. But he knew how to drive up hills. Steep ones.
At a roadside laybay close to the top of this mountain (by now it was painfully apparent that the term hill was an understatement) I transferred cars. Meet Paulo the hang glider. Paulo seemed nice enough and at least he spoke english. pretty well actually. If I thought the roads had been steep before, now they got really steep and very narrow.
We got out of the car in a clearing and climbed some steps. Paulo had been telling me how the wind was not ideal so our running on the launch ramp would be very important. I said ok and tried not to think about it.
We reached the platform. For the first time I realised how high we were. It was like looking out of an aeroplane window, the instant before you pass through the clouds and can't see the ground anymore. High. It wasn't really possible to look over the edge though. The way the ramp was set up, it sloped down at an angle of maybe 15 degrees. The view from the platform was of treetops. An expanse of greenery. It wasn't too scarey. But the idea of jumping was. I was breathing deeper.
Dry mouth now, and needing to pee, Paulo helped me into my harness. He explained that the wind had taken a turn for the worse and was now coming from over our right shoulders. If the wind speed away from the ramp matched our running speed, we would leave the ramp with the air having no net speed passing over the wing. We would plummet. The message was clear: wind towards us was good, wind from behind us was bad. I tried to discern whether he was trying to make sure I would play ball.. by hyping it to life and death. It didn't seem that way. He seemed concerned.
We watched the windsock for 6 or 7 minutes. It barely changed. But then Paulo decided that maybe it was ok. Not good, but not terrible. He asked me if I was ready. I paused. To be honest I was thinking, is he chancing it. The windsock hasn't moved. Is the 240 reals that he will lose if we do not go the deciding factor here? Does he forever walk the line between self-preservation and avarice? I tried to forget the thoughts. He took my pause for fear (which ultimately it was) and asked again, more forcefully. Can I trust you to run? Not to let the fear make you freeze halfway down the ramp? I said yes and nodded, but I did not really know.
Then the moment had come. He picked up the frame of the hangglider and walked back 3 paces, me at his side. We put our right feet forward and stood upright. He counted: 1, 2, 3 and we ran onto the ramp and down the ramp. Of course I don't remember running down the ramp at all. I do know that I never stopped looking straight ahead at the clouds in front that we seemed to be on the level of. Never look down. Then my feet were not touching the ground any more and the body naturally moved to the hanging position. All I could see was treetops directly below us, I don't know how far. Far enough, they seemed small. During the first few moments of intensity, Paulo did not speak. I was happy: I wanted him to dedicate everything to making sure we would be ok. Maybe 20 seconds in I asked, how are we doing? the answer was fine. Relief. But by now my leg had started shaking. Adrenaline twitches. I realised I was scared, but my mind was beyond the jelly/fear state and in a must-survive state - I was very alert, in full control of myself. At 08.15 in the morning. It's a first!
Maybe 3 minutes in I started to be able to appreciate the view. Still it seemed unreal, like a giant TV screen below us, showing the most remarkable vista. But I could turn to my left and see the sugar loaf mountain in the distance beyond copacabana, and in front of us was the edge of the Tijuca national park, where the blocks of flats stretched into the sky a few blocks behind the beach. We flew straight over them, still very high above. Heading out to the ocean, we started to lose height. By now I had grinned inanely at the wing mounted camera a few times as Paulo hit the remote control to take pictures. We turned through 180 degrees above the water, an amazing sensation. We looked back at the beach and the buildings and the mountain where we set off from.
Aligned now along the beach we dipped, gaining speed. This felt ok. Paulo had said some people tense up once the glider dips, but it felt fine. I have been on worse 747s :) Then a quick pull on the bar and the glider raised its nose. We stalled, 2 feet above the sand and dropped lightly onto it. One or two steps and we were stationary. A wave of euphoria.
I was alive. For the first time today I felt relaxed and happy. Euphoric actually. Not at the experience; although it was incredible I never managed to enjoy being up there because of the fear. But at overcoming my fear of heights, at not backing out and at controlling my emotions.. and most of all at still being alive, I felt amazing.
And for those reasons, it didn't matter that for some reason we hadn't been surrounded by hugely impressed beautiful girls when we landed. Maybe they got the wrong beach :)
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