paragliding in pokhara

“Look Em! That’s Macch....”

“Macch....pucch...re..?”

My friend and I were both having a hard time at pronouncing the name of that prominent peak. Machhapuchhre's (literally Fish Tail) two summits resemble the tail of a fish, hence its name. I have been in Pokhara for three days already but that was the first time that I saw the mountains. I was somewhere in there just a week ago.

At half past eleven in the morning, we were in a jeep on the way to Sarangkot. It was supposed to be the best time to do paragliding, when the sun has been out long enough for the thermals to develop.

We stopped where there was a group of some men. Apparently, there was a little accident that morning. One guy was accidentally carried by a paraglider. He was able to hold on to a tree though so he didn't get carried all the way. That was how I understood it though I really couldn’t picture the event on my mind.

“Is it your first time? How are you feeling?”

“Yes. I am a little nervous. And afraid.”

We were walking to the jump-off area when the guard started yelling at us in Nepali. He wanted everyone to stay on the sides except for those who we ready to take off. The guard, well everyone, didn't want another incident for that day. Except perhaps for the driver of our jeep who probably has a death wish. Who cares about blind curves?

“So how long have you been doing this? How many times have you flown?”

“Thousands. I actually stopped counting eight years ago.”

That’s a little reassuring. But maybe I should have asked if he’d had any accident before. My pilot started strapping the harness on me.

“Em, I only need you to do something for me at the start. When I say walk, you walk. When I say run, you run. Okay?”

“Okay. But are you a hundred percent sure I am securely strapped to you?”

I couldn't really see what was happening behind me. I imagine the assistant was flying a very big kite. We were his kite. My pilot and I were moving, more like swaying, as the wing moved over us. I struggled a little following the movement. And then I was told to run. I ran until my feet lifted from the ground. We were soaring.

I let out a little shriek. What are you supposed to do when you couldn’t feel the ground anymore? But instead of a strong thumping in my chest, all I could feel at that moment was peace. It was quiet. And I was comfortably seated while my pilot maneuvers the wing.  There was no extreme emotion that warrants a scream. So I stayed silent.

“What is that beeping sound?”

“It’s a variometer It will keep on beeping as long as we are going up.”

We caught the thermal in no time. The sound kept on going. We were circling the thermal as we go higher. And it’s a little dizzying. I saw several more people away from us. From our location, it seemed like everyone were congregating in there. They seemed too close to each other. I was wondering if collision was a possibility.

Colorful wing.

“How are you feeling now?”

“Esta bien!”

I wanted to make an impression on my Catalonian pilot. But those were the only words I could muster. Catalonia – I kept on seeing it amongst a list of several countries at a guesthouse in the Annapurna Circuit trek. I thought it was another country I had no idea of the location. So I immediately lumped it with Eastern Europe. But thanks to the teasing of the other pilot, I learned that it was part of Spain. And it has been fighting for independence for several centuries.

“Maybe you’ll get lucky in the next century?”

If he heard it, he didn't react.

“Look there!”

An eagle was flying nearby. I was one with the birds, sharing their place. And then a microlight aircraft passed in front of us. Things were really incredible up there.

Unfortunately, I started feeling a tightening in my stomach. Maybe I shouldn’t have had breakfast.

“Has anyone ever thrown up while you were flying?”

“Oh yeah, there was this guy who kept on throwing up but he insisted on doing the cross-country. He threw up a lot of times.”

The cross country takes about 45 minutes to an hour. Brave guy, poor pilot, I thought. My flight was supposed to take 20-30 minutes and it had already felt like forever.

“If you want to take pictures, don’t look at the screen. It will only make you dizzier. Point your camera anywhere and shoot. Just look at the pictures later.”

A view from the top of something beautiful makes it more amazing. I admired the vastness of the Phewa Lake. Pokhara was clinging to it. It was a little hazy but from a distance, the Annapurnas and Macchapucchre, some of the giants of the Himalayas, can be seen.

I followed everything that my pilot said. But every minute in the air made me feel worse.

“Has it been 30 minutes already? I’m feeling really bad now.”

“Not yet. We’ll go above the lake. It’s calmer there.”

I felt that my pilot didn’t want me to go down very soon. And I wanted to enjoy more the feeling of being up there. But my gut was saying otherwise. Even after leaving the thermals and just hovering above the lake, I still felt like I would throw up anytime if I didn’t get back to the ground.

“Um, I’d like to go down now.”

“Are you sure?”

My gut was sure.

I was just so glad once we landed. Of course, I loved the feeling of being suspended in the air. I just did paragliding and finally able to tick off one more in my bucket list. But it seemed like I am better off being grounded. I mean, I’ve reached altitudes (5000+m) where one is prone to sickness, feeling dizzy, getting headaches and I had none of those. Maybe my body prefers that my feet (or the sole of my shoes) are always touching something solid as they go higher.

So would I do it again? Only if it’s free, I guess.