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The wind was howling last Sunday, in the Utah west desert. I thought that if I could just have three people hanging onto my glider at the cliff's edge and if wait for just a split second where I would have complete control of the glider, I would lean just a bit forward and eek out the one and only step off the edge, I'd be airborne. I broke open my new glider and decided to to check it out.
My friends and I met at the launch sight and they helped my set up my glider in the howling winds that blasted through the set up area. The wind was so strong that I had to tie the glider down to a two foot stake that was pummled into the sun baked clay. After thinking this through, I hooked into my glider and unleached myself from the tie down and started to make my way towards the edge. Despite my nauseated feeling that I had in the pit of my stomach, I hobbled closer towards launch with my friends on either side of me holding my glider down, and at the same time carring a little bit of me as well. I kept telling myself that I can do this. But I was also having flash backs of the not so fond memories of my nursing home visit that took two months of my life. My hiking boots were working overtime keeping me from twisting my ankles as my feet just flopped around the rocks and dips in the dirt that I had to navigate through. My knees were shaking like jello, not only from fear, but from fatigue. They just quivered. My mouth went completely dry, and all I could taste was dust. I was more nervous than a whore in church.
When I finally reached the edge of the mountain, I put the glider down while my friends held my glider in the 20-plus mph wind. If they were to let go, or loose their grip, I'd be flying, but not in the direction that I would wanted to go, but rather up, and over. Flipping over to the back of launch breaking my neck. Now that's trust! I tried to catch my breath and get my composure as the wind blasted past my full face helmet. With my face shield open, I could feel the wind coming straight in, just the way I like it. What seemed to be a fraction of a second I picked up my glider and yelled, "clear!" With only a half step I was rocketing skyward in what was previously a new, never flown before, hangglider that had been sitting on my wall since my accident that occurred in July of 2007.
My paralysis went away. My putrid feeling disappeared. I was back in my own element. A world that I've held close to my heart for over the past 23 years.
Its a shame that this passion nearly took my life. Its discouraging that I have difficulties in simply picking up my baby without falling over. My non-flying friends saw me in ICU, after I burned in a couple of years ago and can't believe I'm tempting Mr. Death again. But I have to admit, despite having adopted two boys from birth within the last 3 years and having a happy, healthy marrage, I never feel so alive as when I'm looking down at a mountain top from 17,000 feet, being suspended from my hangglider.
Life is good.
Pete
PS: How do I land? I land on my wheels.
Me!
Edited by Pete Anderson, 23 September 2009 - 04:41 AM.
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