Paragliding in Switzerland!

Ok, so I’ll have to go back and back-fill you in on Paris and Geneva, but for now let me just tell you about the here and now. Today I went paragliding….in the Swiss Alps. It was completely amazing. Let me preface this story by saying that I was heavily medicated when I set off for this little adventure. I have a pretty awful cold, congestion and coughing, the whole bit, so yesterday I went to the pharmacy and got some mystery German cold medicine. I have no idea what anything on the label says, but the woman at the Pharmacy said it was for colds so I bought it. I normally would have been hesitant to take German mystery medicine, but I haven’t been able to sleep at all since getting sick. It was either this or going back to Ambien, and I was not ready to go down that path again. I had also taken two Advil, had three cough drops, and eaten a healthy helping of scrambled eggs at breakfast. Having said that, here’s how the morning went down:

We took the train down to Interlaken and met up with the paraglider pilots who gave us our hiking boots and ushered us into a van with no instruction whatsoever. So there we were, six girls and two less-than-intimidating guys, in a van with nine Swiss men we’d just met. The guy who seemed to be in charge told us to choose our pilots, and after some hesitation, we all basically pointed to one of the guys. I chose one who looked fit, was fairly attractive, seemed like he would have a sense of humor, but also looked like he really knew what he was doing. In this case, my judgment of the book by it’s cover turned out to be very accurate. Bert (he spelled it Beat, but every time he said it, it sounded like Bert, said with a Swiss accent so it really sounds like Bear-t. Anyway, that’s what I called him.) turned out to be a great pilot, calm and happy no matter what.

So after ascending to almost 3,000 feet up (we’re pretty sure that’s how high the take-off point was from the ground, not sea level) on a tiny, windy road in a packed van I was starting to feel a little queasy. But as soon as we emerged and saw the view and where we would be gliding I, along with everyone in the group, could barely contain my excitement. Bert helped me get into my harness, pretty much a backpack with a wooden board underneath for a seat, and my helmet. The whole concept of needing a helmet kind of confused me…if we were to fall, the chances seemed very slim that helmets would be of much use. But I donned the helmet anyway, not feeling the great need to question Bert about what exactly would happen if we fell.

We reached the take off point, a hill with a pretty significant downhill grade, and were given our takeoff instructions, those being just to run until we couldn’t touch the ground anymore. It sounded too simple, but it worked like a charm and soon we were out soaring over the Alps! I wasn’t sure about the appropriate social protocol for such a situation, was I supposed to make conversation with Bert while in flight, or did he need to concentrate on steering? Even if I had decided to attempt to start a conversation, I think I would have failed miserably as I was pretty much overcome staring at the beautiful scenery and trying to snap whatever pictures I could.

After about twenty minutes of climbing higher and higher above the thick trees and beautiful blue lake, we made our way towards the town of Interlaken and our landing location. As we were starting to make our descent, Bert asked me if I liked roller coasters. Had I been safely on the ground, my answer would have been ‘yes’, but this didn’t seem like an offhand inquiry as to my thrill-ride preferences. I responded, “Yes, although if they’re too intense they make me sick.” He took this as a green light to do some corkscrew-like turns, but assured me that if I started to feel sick we cold stop. He did two, and I knew I was in trouble. I hadn’t been feeling completely stable stomach-wise since we’d left the ground but this had pushed me over the top. I told him we’d better stop, so he did and asked me if I was feeling sick….but as he was asking, the evidence that I was not had started to explode from my stomach all over the little town of Interlaken. I’m not sure if it was the meds or just straight-up motion sickness, but after several minutes of emptying my stomach I felt just fine, and even laughed a little at the thought of my breakfast raining down on someone below…not a very nice thought, but still amusing. Maybe I was used as a sort of pre-Sodom & Gomorrah warning, I rained down vomit, but next time the big guy is bringing fire and brimstone

Bert and I did not escape my sickness unscathed unfortunately, and I felt bad for that but he just laughed and we went over to the fountain in the park to wash up a little. I felt kind of silly washing my jacket in the a fountain in the middle of a city, and as people walked by, I wondered if they thought we were homeless and just using the fountain as some sort of washing machine. Despite this tiny hiccup at the end, it was a great experience, possibly one of the coolest things I’ve ever done. I highly recommend it for anyone and everyone, although I would advise you not to experiment with German mystery medicine and Swiss scrambled eggs right before takeoff.