I Love Extreme Sports
I’m not sure if hang gliding qualifies as an “extreme sport” but I guarantee you the sport does have its risks.
While hang gliding off the Baja coastline north of La Paz in the Sea of Cortez I was ensnared by a strong draft sweeping down from the hills that took me about a thousand yards from the beach. There was no fighting it. I had to ride it until I could drift into a cross current to get me back to the shore.
As I drifted farther away from the shore the wind current lost its grip on my rig and I slowly turned to the area where my father and brother had set up camp. The current was mild and slowly bringing me back home and I settled in to enjoying the view from about 500 feet.
About 75 yards from the shore the reverie broke when a strong downdraft pulled my rig down like someone grasping the back of my collar and jerking me down to the ground. Quickly losing altitude I struggled to keep the rig from nose diving into the water. If the rig nose descended at the current speed and angle I knew I’d be hitting the water like it was made of granite.
With great effort and even more luck I managed to stop the dive and resumed a slow circular glide. The beach was less than 100 yards away. I could see my dad and brother jumping up and down waving their arms and shouting. I couldn’t make out what they were saying. At that moment I just assumed they were just glad to see me and letting me know where to make a landing.
I was gliding about 50 feet from the water. Taking my eyes off the shoreline I looked directly down beneath me. I saw a shark lazily swimming dorsal fin cutting through the surface. It was a great white. The great white hunts these waters hoping to surprise an unlucky seal, especially a fat little pup, a special delicacy for them. He must have been easily 15 feet long and the way he was swimming it looked like he was almost tracking me. It's absurd of course but my heart was pumping like crazy and the adrenaline jacking all my senses....it just looked that way in that crazy moment.
There was nothing I could do but continue to drift down where the shark patiently waited for his snack to reach the water. I said a small prayer and resigned myself to whatever was going to happen. This small appeal to spirit was calming and I could feel the fear and anxiety gripping my muscles into a tight knot melt slowly away.
Alert now and relaxed I recalled how other people discouraged shark attacks by punching the creature in the snout. “OK,” I said to myself, “If that’s what it takes, I’m going to give Jaws down there all the MMA action he can handle.”
By all the merciful gods my glider caught a breeze less than 10 feet from the ocean surface. I managed to ride it to the shoreline. My dad and brother saw what was happening from where they stood and I think they were even more freaked than I had been. As soon as I reached the shallows they splashed their way to me and dragged me in. After releasing me from the harness they folded me into a group hug so tight that it took my breath away.
Thank goodness my mom wasn't there....she would have had a stroke!
While hang gliding off the Baja coastline north of La Paz in the Sea of Cortez I was ensnared by a strong draft sweeping down from the hills that took me about a thousand yards from the beach. There was no fighting it. I had to ride it until I could drift into a cross current to get me back to the shore.
As I drifted farther away from the shore the wind current lost its grip on my rig and I slowly turned to the area where my father and brother had set up camp. The current was mild and slowly bringing me back home and I settled in to enjoying the view from about 500 feet.
About 75 yards from the shore the reverie broke when a strong downdraft pulled my rig down like someone grasping the back of my collar and jerking me down to the ground. Quickly losing altitude I struggled to keep the rig from nose diving into the water. If the rig nose descended at the current speed and angle I knew I’d be hitting the water like it was made of granite.
With great effort and even more luck I managed to stop the dive and resumed a slow circular glide. The beach was less than 100 yards away. I could see my dad and brother jumping up and down waving their arms and shouting. I couldn’t make out what they were saying. At that moment I just assumed they were just glad to see me and letting me know where to make a landing.
I was gliding about 50 feet from the water. Taking my eyes off the shoreline I looked directly down beneath me. I saw a shark lazily swimming dorsal fin cutting through the surface. It was a great white. The great white hunts these waters hoping to surprise an unlucky seal, especially a fat little pup, a special delicacy for them. He must have been easily 15 feet long and the way he was swimming it looked like he was almost tracking me. It's absurd of course but my heart was pumping like crazy and the adrenaline jacking all my senses....it just looked that way in that crazy moment.
There was nothing I could do but continue to drift down where the shark patiently waited for his snack to reach the water. I said a small prayer and resigned myself to whatever was going to happen. This small appeal to spirit was calming and I could feel the fear and anxiety gripping my muscles into a tight knot melt slowly away.
Alert now and relaxed I recalled how other people discouraged shark attacks by punching the creature in the snout. “OK,” I said to myself, “If that’s what it takes, I’m going to give Jaws down there all the MMA action he can handle.”
By all the merciful gods my glider caught a breeze less than 10 feet from the ocean surface. I managed to ride it to the shoreline. My dad and brother saw what was happening from where they stood and I think they were even more freaked than I had been. As soon as I reached the shallows they splashed their way to me and dragged me in. After releasing me from the harness they folded me into a group hug so tight that it took my breath away.
Thank goodness my mom wasn't there....she would have had a stroke!
26-30, F
