Parapente en los Pirineos (Paragliding in the Pyrenees)

“Izquierda! izquierda! Otra izquierda! No frena! No frena! DIOS MIO!” (“Left! Left! Other left! Don’t brake! Don’t Brake! MY GOD!”) Mariano exclaimed through the radio to Rafa as he pulled harder on the right brake line which sealed his fate as his Paraglider disappeared into the trees 10 meters below our launch zone, followed shortly after by a the sounds of cracking of branches and an eerie silence. A few seconds later Mariano’s voice came through the radio again “Rafa, are you ok?”. As the radio’s are setup for only one way communication the affirmative response came as a yell from the trees below. Expecting we would have to mount a rescue mission to retrieve him Mariano’s next response came as a shock “Rafa try and get down, we will get the paraglider later, Brendon, prepare to launch”.

This was day 3 of training and we were off the training hills and starting to fly from a 400m cliff to the landing strip below. With only 5 meters in front of us to inflate the paraglider, get in position, run and start flying or risk ending up in the forest, the margin for error was very low as Rafa learned the hard way.

Commando style we entered the forest after lunch in search of the missing paraglider. It had made it quite deep into the forest canopy and was resting 8 meters above the ground. After a bit of strategizing we started to saw through the 25cm diameter tree which seemed to be holding the majority of the glider.

An hour and a few fallen trees later and the glider was down and ready to be flown again, well not quite..

Riding Sierra Nevadas

The bus ride from Granada to the village of Monachil took a bit over half an hour. The snow capped Sierra Nevada mountains that are visible from the city became a more dominating feature of the landscape the closer we got. After a short brief at the house and a bit of time checking our equipment we were off and riding. A true test of fitness as we ascended from our starting point of 800m altitude to our high point of 1400m, 2 hours and 14 km later.

The amazing views provided some compensation for the incredible heat  which had hit 35 degrees by midday, the highest temperature since the previous summer. The sigh of relief from all members of the group was audible as our guide told us the worst of the ascent was behind us, the strain soon replaced by adrenaline as we started descending the ridge line with a steep fall both sides of the path if we lost our way on the path below us which was a mix of loose gravel and jutting rocks. This was followed by a stretch of single track through the forest which was fairly technical.

Maybe it was due to using all of my focus in the previous sections, or maybe it was overconfidence, but the next thing I knew I was flying through the air as the bike pulled right while I maintained my trajectory straight ahead and into the ground, my left side taking the impact as I skidded along for several meters. Slightly dazed and in shock I got up assess the damage. No broken bones, just some grazes and a bruised ego. My shoulder had taken much of the force but luckily did not dislocate. The bike on the other hand was a bit contorted, the handle bars twisted almost 90 degrees and the disk brake lever pulled right out of its piston. The path had been almost completely straight, however the soft ground had given way below the front tire and I had made the mistake of squeezing the front brake which had caused the wheel to dig in even more.

The guide was able to straighten the handle bars enough to make the bike ride-able again however with only 1 brake the ride back was slow as we still had another few km of track to cover...