Page 17 of Alluring Adventure

She nods and I transfer my left break handle to my right hand. Flying with both brakes in one hand, I point out a few hills to her and tell her the names of them.

She looks like she’s completely gotten over her nerves and cheers when there is a sudden jerk pulling us to the left. I look up at the canopy. It seems okay.

I glance down at the landscape below us. The rolling hills stretch as far as I can see, covered in patchwork fields dotted with grazing sheep. It should all be perfect, but something doesn’t feel right.

A sensation in my gut tells me that we need to get back down on solid ground–and fast. That jerk wasn’t planned. There is a strong uplift coming from the valley below us.

For now, I have control over the flight and want to keep it that way. I scan for potential landing spots, my eyes darting over the landscape below. There has to be somewhere flat enough, open enough for us to touch down safely.

But we’re too high up now, above the ridges and valleys that would offer protection from the strengthening wind currents. The uneasy feeling gets stronger. We need to lose altitude before it’s too late.

I pull on the brake lines, leaning back into the harness and urging our paraglider into a descent. But instead of dropping towards earth like an obedient kite on a string we’re caught by a powerful updraft that sends us soaring even higher into the sky.

Keeley squeals as we shoot upwards at alarming speed. My stomach lurches as I look out over the jagged peaks of the highest mountains in this area.

That’s when I realise what’s happened. We’ve gone off course and flown too close to them–so close that we’ve been caught in the vortex of air that funnels upwards between them, like a mini tornado.

I desperately try to regain control of the paraglider, pulling on the brake lines with all my strength. But it’s no use. The wind is too strong and our flimsy fabric wing is buffeted around like a scrap of paper in a hurricane. It’s no longer lifting us up and instead gravity is pulling us down.

Keeley screams as we spin wildly in mid-air, my stomach lurching again at the sudden change in direction. We’re spiralling towards one of the peaks and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. My hand is on the emergency chute, but I hesitate. We are close to the rock face of the mountain and the wind could blow us into it. But I don’t have a choice as the ground rushes up towards us and I brace for impact. I throw the parachute and try to rein in the canopy of the glider at the same time.

The parachute deploys and I feel a short pull where it breaks our fall. We are still descending fast, but in a controlled manner.

“Keeley, we’re going down! Keep your arms close and raise your legs!” I shout over the deafening roar of the wind. When she doesn’t respond I yell again with all my might. Finally, I see her react, but time is slipping away. I struggle to control our descent, wrestling with the wind that’s relentlessly driving us towards a dense wood jutting out from the summit rock face of the mountain ahead. The wood is vast, about the size of several football fields, before it abruptly drops into another sheer rock face.

Landing in this thicket will be a nightmare but there isn’t much I can do. I shout a warning before our feet graze the tops of the first trees. Branches snap and foliage rustles as we tumble through the vegetation. I’m almost hoping that the chute will tangle itself up in a tree, saving us from crashing into the ground. But today doesn’t seem to be my lucky day.

“Legs up!” I scream and try to do the same as we drop hard onto the ground. We slide downwards on the steep incline, our bodies battered and bruised by each collision with bushes and roots. I hear Keeley cry out in pain but my focus is on trying to stop us before we get to the end of the tree line and tumble over the edge of the rock face below us.

Finally we come to rest against a large boulder, the parachute twisted and tangled in the branches above us. It flutters uselessly in the breeze while we lie still gasping for breath and trying to take stock of what just happened.

I look at Keeley who is lying on top of me with blood trickling from a cut on her forehead. I try to bring us in an upright position.

Shit.

As I move, a sharp pain shoots through my lower back, making me yelp in agony.

Keeley turns her head and looks at me with wide eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“I think I hurt my back,” I manage to force out through gritted teeth. I try to lie as still as possible. This is bad, really bad.

“Can you move your legs?” Keeley tries to free herself from the harness.

“I… I’m not sure. I think so.” I think there’s a tingling sensation, but I don’t know if it’s from the shock or a spinal injury. The weight of these words hits me like a freight train.

“Right, just stay still,” Keeley says whilst unclipping the last carabiner. She carefully crawls off me and kneels down next to me. “Where does it hurt?”

“My lower back.” My voice is barely a whisper; the pain is excruciating.

She gently stabilises my head before removing her helmet.

“You’re bleeding,” I point out. I wish I could help her. On top of everything, I just feel incredibly useless.

“That’s nothing,” she wipes vaguely over her forehead smearing the blood.

“Time to call for help.” She reaches for her harness but comes up empty. “Where’s your phone?” she asks with pleading eyes, probably worrying what we’d do if I lost mine as well.

“It’s in my inside breast pocket.”

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