Flying in Paradise

My second day in Ecuador was spent traveling with my friend James, a fellow paraglider from Colombia. We were off to Canoa to meet with Kevin Lee, my instructor, Larry, Julie and Derek, all pilots from the states. As well as Julian and Juan, two of Kevin's Ecuadorian friends and fellow pilots. It took us almost eight hours on extremely bumpy roads to reach Canoa, probably a meagre total of 200 miles. We seemed to be on the slowest buses, and the last bus from Portoviejo to Canoa, took a wildly roundabout way on dirt roads. Needless to say I was done with traveling at that point. But with my eyes set on the sky I was able to make the trip an adventure. When we arrived in Canoa we didn't know where we were going and got off at the buss stop which was a kilometer past their hotel. In the blazing sun and me carrying my huge paragliding equipment we walked back the way we came to the hotel. They were all staying in a very expensive hotel, so James and I went and found something in our budget: $80 vs. $5 per person. 

The next day the winds were light but in the right direcction, so we headed up to launch. It was a rutted out road slashed through the jungle, but once we made it to the top we had an amazing view north and south, one after another we took off from the hill. Launching has a certain flow for me. I step up to launch and I'm nervous and excited. I strap on my helmet and harness, connect to the wing. Check to make sure everything is in place and then I raise the wind above my head, turn around and run. 

The wing inflates, catches the wind and slowly tugs me off my feet. This sensation of being lifted is incredible, it's the oposite of falling, lifting gently away from the ground and into the freedom of the sky. The nervousness fades away as I settle into my harness and the excitement melts into a joy that remains for the entire flight. 

Larry is on the left with the green wing, I'm the blue and Julie is in the red wing. I doubled my airtime in this one flight, soaring the cliffs, banking in and catching the air being pushed up the cliff faces. I flew for an hour and half, getting extremely burnt, I only put on one layer of sunscreen, which obviously wasn't enough in the relentless sun. 

The next day we went to another site, south of Canoa near Bahia de Caraquez. This was a site that has only been open for a couple of months. The launch had been hacked out of the jungle by a friend of Julians. The plan is to build a giant retirement community for ex-pats. This was an area that Kevin had been wanting to fly for the 15 years that he's been coming down to Ecuador to fly. The first day that we flew the winds weren't strong enough for us to cross the valley to our left that led to 12 kilometers of flyable ridges and cliffs. So we came back the next day and crossed over. It was one of the most incredible things I've ever done, untracked jungle to one side and the Pacific ocean on the other. Larry, Julie and I flew until sunset. Watching the sun drop through the sky, the birds pass above and below us. I felt so elevated, physically, mentally and spiritually. Flying in this maner is so quiet, alone in the air, free to turn in the air just like the birds.

We were the only people around. No one on the beach, not a boat in sight and jungle inland. It was a freedom unparalleled. The juxtaposition of our bright wings against the backdrop of the vibrant green or the blue of the ocean was a beautiful contrast. Without motors we are at the whim of the winds, and so much of paragliding in judgment about when to fly. But we had hit perfect conditions, the wind was steady and strong. We could  stay up as long as we could see, Kevin broke our reverie with a call over the radio, "come down now or sleep here tonight!" We descended one after another, our wings crumpling and loosing their form as we touched down.