In this story for The Independent I became a fully-qualified paragliding pilot in Colombia. In two weeks I embarked upon 28 solo flights and, thankfully, survived to tell the tale.
The next morning I was bleary-eyed but determined. With hands clasping the polyester lines, I lunged at the crest of the hill as my glider filled with air. Ten lurching strides later, I was airborne, soaring almost weightlessly and silently above a tree-lined valley peppered with cattle and high-pitched mopeds whizzing along tiny roads.
I could make out the Andes looming to the north, while to the left a spiral of turkey vultures soared in a rising thermal with grace and ease. I felt comparably clumsy, clenching my fists in the handles of the harness, listening for instructions on the radio strapped to my chest.
Read the full story here.
October 20, 2015