TRotS (The Rest of the Story)

Although I haven’t backed down from them…I haven’t really considered myself a thrill-seeker or risk taker. I am not an adrenaline junkie. Rather, I like to think that I am pleasantly comfortable with butterflies in my stomach, as long as they are attached to something fun. Unfortunately, most of my butterflies have come from feeling anxious about something. These are not the butterflies that need feeding. These are the ones that need to have a short life span.

Adding hang gliding to my bucket list came almost accidently. I have many memories over the decades while living in Colorado, of driving along Highway 93 in Golden, and seeing hang gliders in various stages of flight. Golden is a very popular area for this particular sport. I always thought it might be fun, but never had a burning desire to experience it first-hand.

That all changed one day, in December of 2013, when I was having breakfast with my Brazilian friend, Sandra.  Months before, she had provided an email introduction between me and her friend, Jorge, who lives in Rio de Janeiro. He and I had begun to correspond back-and-forth, and were speaking in loose terms of me visiting Rio “someday.” However, it was this particular breakfast that put a plan into motion.

She described in vivid detail what New Year’s Eve is like in Rio. She also talked about other cool things to do while there…including hang gliding. That meal was all it took to motivate me into making a plan. I contacted Jorge and he was wonderfully willing to play host to me in Rio for New Year’s. (Mind you, the entire plan came together in just a couple of weeks.)

As the plan unfolded, I let Jorge know that the only activity I really wanted to do while I was there was hang gliding. There was just something about the way Sandra had described it that made me want to add it to…and then cross it off…my Bucket List! Jorge made my reservation for the first day I was to be in Rio. Unfortunately, due to a comedy of errors (which will be shared, no doubt, in another post), I was delayed in getting to Rio by one day.

Jorge was not about to let me leave Rio without hang gliding, however. On January 2, he needed to return to work, so Jorge suggested he drop me off that morning at Pepino Beach so I could make a reservation. He assured me that he would communicate to the “pilot” that once we had made the reservation, I was to be put in a cab and the pilot would tell the driver where to take me. (Although I managed to get myself around in Rio, via cab, I butchered the language every time I used my translation book, so it was always a challenge to the driver.)

With that, Jorge introduced me to my pilot, Paulo, with whom he had been speaking, and promptly left. Thankfully, Paulo spoke English and told me that we needed to go get my “license”…a loose term for accepting all liability for any danger I might be putting myself into. Once that was done, I fully expected to set my appointment and be on my way…released to anticipate the thrill of it all. As we walked back down to where Paulo’s helpers were packing up his glider for transport, he turns and says, “Are you ready to fly?” “What?? We’re going NOW??,” I screamed in my head. With no time to reconsider my decision, I got into the vehicle and off we went, and the butterflies took flight.

A few thoughts crossed my mind as we started up the mountain: (1) I am in a car with three men, two of whom do not speak English, (2) I am in said car in a foreign country…one that cannot be entered into without a Visa that requires advance issuing, and (3) I have paid these men $250 to get into the car willingly.

As we careened up the curving, narrow, mountain road at a rate of speed that made taking in the view all but impossible, I found myself acknowledging that if I survived the ride up the mountain, the flight down could not be any more terrifying.

At the top, the Pedra Bonita Ramp awaited us. As Paulo’s assistants assembled the glider, he helped me into the harness and donned his own. I expected to be thoroughly instructed as to the finer points of hang gliding, and I suppose I was…in his mind. Once the glider was assembled, we were attached and with the glider set down on the ramp, Paulo had us “hang” so I could get a feel for the harness. Then we stood up, he said “no matter what, don’t stop running!” That was the extent of my instruction.

A few seconds later, we were running down the ramp about to jump into nothing. My mind was screaming, “what are you doing, Karen??!!!” In the moment that we ran out of ramp, my body was instantly suspended horizontally, and the most glorious sensation of floating replaced the terror. There was no drop. The butterflies had calmed down, and I was flying! 

We floated, circling the beautiful landscape below. Toward the end of the flight, we were out over the ocean, where I could see some of the larger inhabitants from an incredible vantage point. As we neared the end of our flight, Paulo detached the harness from my leg, then pushed the bar forward. Doing so made the glider drop, losing altitude very quickly to prepare for landing on the beach. The butterflies were alive and well as I squealed with surprise and delight. Within moments, we were running along the beach, bringing the glider to a stop.

What an incredible experience! I was absolutely amazed, when I viewed the video, to learn that the whole flight only lasted less than 8 minutes…it seemed like much longer. It was an extravagant thing for me to do, but the memory will continue to feed my butterflies for the rest of my life.