Hobby Romania

by Adi Ghinet (adig33@yahoo.com)
August 2003, Austria
Article reprinted from www.aviatia.ro with permission from the author

I would like to share with you how I started with this sport in the context of a country where paragliding has “a lot of weight” – Germany (where I’ve been living and working for 3 years through the “greencard” program).

I’d been meaning to fly for a long time, since I was in the army (by the way, I am a lieutenant – in reserve ) but I just didn’t find the necessary drive or perhaps I didn’t meet the right people at the right time. But perhaps it was better that way…

I found that school in the Internet. It has headquarters both in Germany and Austria and I thought it would be a good choice. I spent more than 2 months training in training but I finally took off. And here is what I wrote down the night before and the day of my first flight:

“I can’t sleep. I don’t know why: it could be Dragos’ snoring in F major (accompanied occasionally by my brother on second violin) or it’s maybe that I AM FLYING TOMORROW!!!! Tomorrow I will be master and commander. I will tell the air how to glide by me, I will order the currents to land me softly. I fall asleep.

The phone alarm rings. I’d set it up the night before. I realize how little I slept but I hope that it’s not going to affect my “naturally born pilot” abilities and today I will have amazing experiences with flying.

After the morning ritual we go down to the eating room, improvised in a spacious living-room with big windows through which I can see the proud Alps. After breakfast we leave for the flight school.

We arrive there first, before the instructors who are actually supposed to open the school. We wait until the others arrive. Very quickly we receive our gear – in our size. I will fly a UP Boogie, a paraglide for beginners. We all get into the cars and go towards the landing site where we receive instructions: up there we rotate to descend, down here we estimate when we might start the landing, we always take the wind into account, we have to land with the wind in our face.

The taxi has arrived. We put the wings inside the minibus and we start climbing to the cable car. The road up there is a long one and I recap in my mind everything I’ve learned so far. Once there we buy tickets (it’s rather pricey but what won’t I do for this sport…). I take a seat, just me and the paraglide and I expect to get to the top of the mountain as soon as possible. But it takes forever. I do have plenty of time to, with my eyes closed, listen to the crickets that are very loud (much more pleasant sounds than the choir of snoring from last night) and take in other nature’s sounds. I finally open my eyes so that I won’t fall asleep and I turn to look at the valley.

It’s a dream sight. I get goose bumps. The Alps reveal themselves more and more, as I keep going up, majestic peaks appear slowly from behind. The landing site seems smaller and smaller and less and less significant.

We finally get off the cable car and from there we keep going up another 200 meters with our gear on our backs. Panting heavily (I have to exercise some more as I’m not in great shape), I get to the take off spot. As I wait for my turn I look on as the first pilots take off. I say to myself that it looks really easy and I try to reign in my emotions that begin to get bigger. The moment comes. I spread my glider on the grass, put on my harness and set everything right.

André is a good instructor. He knows it’s my first high-altitude flight and encourages me to be brave. “You’ll see, it’s very simple. You listen in our instructions, on the radio.” He checks my equipment 2 or 3 times. Everything is fine. I can feel my heart beating out of my chest but I am eagerly waiting for the command, “Start Frei!” (free start)… that comes…

I start running, lift the glider in the air and I take off! It’s hard to describe what I feel now. Emotions are flooding my brain. I can hear the instructions, as an echo, spoken with a calm voice that inspires trust. I execute them automatically: turn left, right, take the right trajectory. I keep the break on the glider and try to go as slow as I can, as if I don’t want to let go of this amazing experience. 150 meters. I look left and right. The villages under me seem to be miniatures, tiny models of the real thing. I am alone, up here, tied with rope to an “object” that’s made of thin material and even though the glider seems so fragile, I feel so very strong…

The level difference increases. I am on top of the plateau. 500 or 600 meters altitude. From up here I can see the entire Lech valley. I can see the tiny villages (two or 300 villagers each).

Through the radio I can hear Radco, the landing instructor, who says he’s waving at me. I can only see a tiny orange dot in the contrasting green of the grass. Radco is also a good instructor. He has a lot of patience, his voice is very calm and the way he cheers me on makes me trust myself, chasing away fear or doubt and allowing more of the “positive” feelings. I feel like yodeling, but my throat, choked with emotion, won’t let me. It doesn’t really matter. It feels like my whole brain is one long yodel cry. I feel everything very intensely, every second in the air. I try to explain a very faint tremor of my hands, clutching the commands: could it be the strong wind up here? Or my emotions? Or both? I try to control myself and listen carefully to the landing instructions.

Over the landing site I have to spiral and start the descent. This allows me to take in the entire landscape and savor my last minutes in flight. I am 50-100 meters above the ground, now parallel to the landing trajectory, I turn left once, then again, wind in my face, everything is okay, I pull on the commands.

I’m on the ground successfully. Radco congratulates me, comments on my flight. I can barely hear him, everything still seems far away. It takes me about 5 minutes to snap out of the dream, to anchor myself in reality, to distinguish voices, to hear the background noise of the passing cars, to react to Dragos’ or Paul’s questions…

A first flight that lasted 10-15 minutes. It went by too fast. Now I feel only one thing: I want to do it again!”

Article re-published from www.aviatia.ro. (with permission from the author)