Paragliding

Powerless flight has always fascinated and enthralled me!

Inasmuch as financial responsibilities regarding the alimony of an ex-wife and child support of six children were extensive and burdensome (as imposed by a ruthless and corrupt California ‘No Fault’ Divorce policy); I found myself unable to advance in my desire to pursue powerless flight. Rather, I had little recourse than to observe others from the sidelines and continue in hopes that later life might afford me such opportunity!

My Paragliding

To compensate for my financial inability to pursue soaring; I pursued and engaged paragliding. Observing such activity in a tv documentary; I determined I might be able to engage such activity within the limited funds available to me. Such would permit my limited engagement of powerless flight while minimizing costs.

Parenthetically, Michael had recently come to live with me and I enjoyed his accompaniment as I investigated such powerless flight opportunities. Of particular remembrance is an event that took place on Marshall Hill well above Cal State San Bernardino.   Michael and I had ventured to the ‘launching site’ in order to observe paragliding personally. As we familiarized with the site and activities; we observed an enthusiast preparing to ‘launch’. (Launching in this context meant running forward with the paraglider above oneself until an upward ‘tug’ on the attached harness signaled one was safe in surrendering one’s support to the paraglider above.)

  As Michael and I watched, the enthusiast balanced his glider above him until a gust of wind encouraged his ‘launch’ 2000 feet above the valley floor. As he gently, silently drifted rapidly from our site, I was enthralled by the seemingly benign nature of the flight and method. There standing aside Michael, I whispered Whoa! to myself and him. Within seconds, I turned to my son and exclaimed: “I’m gonna do this!”. 

 I was mildly surprised to realize that I (as a middle-aged man) would display a greater sense of adventure than my young seventeen-year-old son. I suppose I expected that he’d lead us toward adoption of such an exciting endeavor! Nevertheless, I explored and engaged an Orange County business devoted to training paragliding flight. Recognizing that the training took place at a gradually sloping hill in Orange County, I frequented the location for the next four weeks as I was taught to lift my wing into a slight breeze and maintain its position above me as I prepared to ‘launch’ off that safely sloping ‘training hill’. Maintaining control of my wing as it ‘flew’ above me prior to actual launch was particularly challenging for me. Finally, I ran forward to experience the lift ‘in the seat of my pants’ as the harness responded to the lifting wing above me. In response, I lifted my feet to achieve a gentle glide not more than 3 feet from the ground until I arrived at the bottom of the hill and felt the wing and lines fall atop my amazed self. I’d experienced individual flight and would thereafter never be the same.

First real Flight

Having completed my ‘training’, I would then be challenged with my first ‘non-training’ flight. Following my initial failure to ‘launch’; I was then afforded the opportunity to engage a ‘first flight’ at the commonly used Marshall Hill launching site. My instructor sought to accommodate my trepidation with a two-way radio attached to my harness. Though my hands would be unavailable to activate two-way communication (my hands were needed to control the wing with proper ‘braking’ behavior), I’d be able to hear my instructor’s directions as I completed a significant and lofty flight.

Having prepared my ground launch inspections and preparations; I was now in a rather challenging position having occupied the primary launching position for the past 30 minutes as other’s patiently awaited their turn. Would I renege (due to frightful trepidation [the launch was over 2000’ above the valley floor – my landing site]) or proceed into the unknown (as yet unexperienced yonder of unequivocal heightened flight). With what I considered little reason to equivocate; I brought my wing overhead in a mild 5 mph wind and ran forward toward the rapidly sloping ‘rim’ of no return. Oddly, as I lifted my feet from terra firm and watched the earth beneath me rapidly retreat to distant clime; I looked upward to observe my fully inflated ‘ram air’ paragliding wing flying and supplying me with the needed lift I was now dependent upon. Surprisingly I caught myself thinking: “It works” and immediately recognized the humorously incoherence of such an absurdity.

Only 20 seconds previously I’d been standing at the launch site; now I was easily 1000 feet above ground (the slope had been dramatic) and hundreds of feet horizontally from my launch. It had all taken place so quickly that I raced to keep up with my individually, personalized circumstances - airborne well above the valley floor. Suddenly the radio squawked from my chest and I recognized the voice of my instructor. Requested to ‘waggle’ my feet to confirm communication; I waggled my feet as they dangled beneath my harness. He confirmed communication and I silently realized I was not entirely alone (there above Cal State San Bernardino). He instructed me to try out my ‘brakes’ to confirm right and left turning. With that confirmed he then began to relax and reflect on the experiences I was having as I endeavored to preserve my flight attitude and progress toward what we’d predetermined as my landing site well below – on the valley floor.

Finally, I cleared the telephone lines, approaching the center of the field at about 25 feet above ground. During the final moments, I pulled my ‘brakes’ to flair my wing and land on my own feet. Misjudging my momentum, I fell upon my hands and knees as the wing and lines surrounded my person. As I emerged from the tangle of wing and lines; I look toward the launch site I’d left approximately 30 minutes earlier and exclaimed (to myself) that “I’d done it!” I was distinctly pleased with myself and my courage to weather the challenges and achievements of a flight exceeding 2000 feet of elevation and half a mile of distance to arrive safely at an obscure field in San Bernardino. I was definitely pleased with myself!

Flights following thereafter

I would establish Marshall Hill as my base in which to safely take numerous flights. (Knowing that too many of my associates were ‘adrenalin driven’, I took care to time my flights when a minimum of associates were flying the Marschall Hill area. I would soon learn of an established landing area near Frontline Road (Andy Jackson Airpark) some distance from the launch site and graded to accommodate simple, ‘walking’ landings. In order to take advantage of the airpark’s landing site, I’d have to traverse numerous canyons, mountain ridges and accompanying air currents to safely arrive at the airpark with plenty of elevation to achieve a comfortable ‘walking/running’ landing.