Eagles the real teachers at Puncak's paragliding slope

By Richard Watson

PUNCAK, West Java (JP): The last of the morning mist dissipated across the valley floor, revealing the full majesty of Gunung Salak's volcanic cone. We watched hushed and awed as a black eagle soared and bobbed effortlessly on the day's first thermals. Lilik, my paragliding instructor, without taking his eyes off the creature for a second, whispered "they are our real teachers", before shrugging his shoulders, breaking into a huge, friendly grin and saying "now it's your turn".

I was in Lido Resort, an old Dutch colonial playground, a one- and-a-half hour's drive south of Jakarta. Flanked by the prominence of West Java's highest peaks, Gunung Gede to the east and Gunung Salak to the west, lie an intricate maze of natural lakes. Behind these is a purpose-built paragliding practice slope and landing area. It was from here that we finally turned our gaze away from the eagle and began our weekend's training in earnest.

I was in the best possible hands. Lilik is Indonesia's national paragliding champion and, together with his brother Gendon, offers a highly professional training course. So with a degree of beginners confidence and a lot of trepidation I secured my harness and began to learn the rudiments of ground control.

Paragliding, although enjoying a meteoric rise in popularity, is still a relatively young sport. Easy to learn and requiring very little physical effort, paragliding now makes the dream of flying attainable and affordable for many. Requiring the minimum of equipment, only a helmet, harness and canopy, everything folds down into a package the size of a large rucksack which can be easily carried. The simplest and easiest form of aviation, in a bag!

Difference

Although related to hang gliding and parachuting, paragliding is in fact something quite different. Parachutes are designed to descend, paragliders for free, soaring flight. The canopy is really a wing, with a number of inflatable cells, from which the pilot is suspended in a sitting or supine position, much like a pendulum. Launch is from a gentle slope or ramp into a headwind, with the glider already inflated above the pilot's head. A short run of maybe half a dozen steps is sufficient until you are quite literally lifted off your feet. With the aid of thermals and due to the gliders inherent low sink rate, a pilot can stay aloft for hours.

The harness, which acts as a seat in flight, is attached to the canopy by a series of lines called risers. Brake cords provide speed and directional control. Before takeoff the canopy is laid flat open on the ground behind you. A strong pull on the risers lifts the canopy, which must be stabilized before the takeoff run.

Having mastered these essentials in the space of a couple of hours, I began a series of practice jumps, or should I say "fledgling hops", just skimming the ground. Being airborne for the first time, if only for a few seconds, quite takes your breath away. A rush of fear grips, holds and slowly releases you, as your feet thankfully return to terra firma. Relief and elation fired my whole body with an overwhelming desire to do it again and again, and this was just the training hill! We returned the next morning and by Sunday afternoon I could not hide my excitement about the prospect of my first full flight the following weekend.

Fortunately for Jakartans, high up on the Puncak pass, there is both an excellent launch and safe landing site. We arrived early on Saturday morning determined not to miss a minute of the action. The industrial heat of the city had been replaced by a cool mountain breeze and a slight chill hit me as we stepped from the car.

Many gliders were already in the air, their bright Day-Glo canopies elegantly dotting the sky. Others lay spread out on the ground awaiting their turn. I watched as Lilik took off and demonstrated his adroit flying skills for the benefit of my camera. Using the thermals and his intricate knowledge of the elements, he swooped low overhead, maneuvering with effortless grace, like a gull with outstretched wings. Eventually he gently turned away, heading down the valley to the landing site from where he would instruct me in the final moments of my descent.

Maiden flight

Gendon secured my harness and radio, through which he would continue to instruct me throughout my maiden flight. I checked that my canopy and risers were free of ground obstructions and that there was a clear path to the ramp and the oblivion beyond. All eyes were now on me, the new boy, my heart racing, my mind rapidly rewinding through the training procedures.

"OK Richard, NOW!" shouted Gendon. Leaning forward I heaved on the risers and my canopy opened perfectly above me. I quickly steadied it before the rush of adrenalin and Gendon's "RUN, RUN, RUN" kick-started my legs and I charged towards the ramp not knowing whether to open or close my eyes. Three strides down the ramp my legs could kick no more, the lift created by the wind rushing up the hillside carried me up and away. I was airborne.

Time froze, I froze. Every sinew in my body was tensed to snapping point. This was intense. Exhilarated and scared, all emotions juggled for position in my head. I tried to compose myself and Gendon's reassuring voice on the radio congratulated me on my takeoff.

The visual impact was an immediate blast of bright colors and strange perspective. The whole of the Puncak valley was spread before me in an immense and silent panorama. Streams looked like tiny silver threads, people just bright dots of color and the tea plantations a wide, undulating sea of green. Looking up, my colorful canopy arced above my head, filling the sky. Looking straight down, my legs dangled insignificantly above a different world. My fear abated and euphoria took over.

I followed Gendon's radioed instructions, turning and braking, getting the feel of controlling my wings. I was amazed at the glider's stability and the ease with which it responded to my controls. Pull left, turn left, pull right, turn right - it was that simple.

Slowly floating above a miniature world of distant rooftops, seemingly toy cars and ant-sized people, I felt like a bird of prey playing on the airwaves. Paragliders are not built for speed, everything follows a calm and natural pace; my flight lasted for a full five minutes.

Lilik came into sight from among the tea bushes and, using clear hand signals, guided me down to a safe and soft landing on the strip in the tea plantation. He rushed to congratulate me, I was now part of the team. "There is no going back", Lilik had warned earlier, "you will be hooked".

Turning to see where I had just come from, I howled with delight and punched the air in triumph. I closed my eyes and as my smile threatened to burst my face with joy, only one thought filled my mind: "I have got to do that again!"