Yes, you’ve read that correctly. I’ve tried hang gliding. This was another one of my random wanderings during my wilderness years. I went through a period of trying to find something new and different.
I’m not sure what led me to try hang gliding to be honest, I wouldn’t say I’m an adrenalin junkie. I’ve never wanted to go anywhere near a motorbike or anything particularly dangerous. The closest I’ve probably come to that is doing a bungee jump whilst on holiday in Turkey. It wasn’t something I’d considered before, it hadn’t even entered my head. During the holiday myself and my partner at the time would walk from the hotel to the resort centre to look for places to eat. Sticking out like a sore thumb due to my pasty white skin or sunburn (I sunbathe, go red, peel and then go back to white again. Standard) we used to get bombarded by the waiters as we walked past their restaurants. This is a common tactic of the local restaurant staff to try and charm you so that you’ll wander in. It’s ok but gets annoying after a few days, particularly when they turn from being all nice and smiley to almost aggressive when you fail to live up to your suggestion of ‘maybe tomorrow’.
Once we’d got through ‘Hassle Street’ you could see the bungee jumpers leaping off a crane over the sea near the resort harbour. The first few days I saw it I was dead set that I would never do it, but as the week went on and I saw more and more people making the jump I started to warm to the idea. One day we were walking past and there was no queue, they had just opened up for the night. Thinking that the best way to approach this was to just get it over and done with quickly with no time to start talking myself out of it, I walked over to the guy selling the tickets and went for it.
After the obligatory signing of the disclaimer document I got measured up for weight and height so that they could calculate the correct bungee length. I was asked if I wanted to dip my head in to the water on the way down, but I politely declined that element. I can understand why people do that but it seemed bad enough without the prospect of slamming my head on water as well. Why anyone would sign up for bungee jumps over land is beyond me. At least over water you should be ok if the length of the bungee is wrong or breaks, over land you’re stuffed. No thanks.
I made my way to the platform where I was going to jump off from and was given a safety talk by the guys up there. To be fair, it was pretty simple. Jump outwards and then plummet. They did all the necessary fastening and tightening so that I was strapped to my bungee cord. I was then told to shuffle to the end of the platform ready for the jump. I stopped when I thought I was at the end only to be told that I need to shuffle about another foot further along. Up until that point I hadn’t looked down, but there was no way I could know where I needed to be without doing so. As soon as I did, reality hit hard. It was a proper scary moment. My heart started going like the clappers. The guys on the platform were more than used to this of course, and were loving the fact that I was clearly starting to panic. Offering me reassurances that ‘don’t worry, we haven’t had any fatalities yet’ was just what I needed.
Checking if I was ready, Mr Motivator started counting me down from 3…2…1…and then I jumped. Oh….my….god. It was the most bizarre sensation, my stomach felt as though it was literally coming out of my mouth on the way down. I tried to scream but I couldn’t. The wind was completely knocked out of me. It felt like I was falling forever. Before I knew it I was bouncing back up again, and then falling again. Knowing that I had to go down again was the worst. By the time I came to a halt I had had more than enough. I put a brave face on it and pretended I loved it, but there was no way I was doing that again. Box ticked, move on.
Back to hang gliding. The bungee jump experience was not something I wanted to repeat. Hang gliding seemed a lot more graceful but with an element of adrenaline attached to it. I’d also had a fascination with flying, so I was curious as to what this would feel like. I’d had thoughts of joining the RAF when I was younger and had even enquired at a school careers fair but that was the sum of it.
Having visions of leaping off mountains I signed up for a two day taster session in the Peak District to decide whether it was something I would enjoy. I put myself down on the list and reserved my slot but as with windsurfing the sport is very weather dependant so there was no guarantee when the lesson would be. The instructor would be in touch when he was confident there would be an appropriate weather window to go ahead. Checking in with him the day before the first lesson he confirmed that the weather was looking good and I was to meet him in the car park of a pub in the Peaks. This sounded very clandestine and when I turned up the next day the fog was rolling in. It was like something out of a Hammer Horror film.
When the instructor turned up, myself and some others who had signed up for the course were told to get in our cars and follow him to a nearby peak. The higher we went, the foggier it got. I wasn’t massively confident that leaping off a mountain would be the best thing to do in this kind of visibility but what did I know.
When we got to the summit, it was clear that no leaping was on the agenda. The idea instead was to experience ‘flying’ by being strapped in to a hang glider whilst the instructor and his helper held on to us with ropes to stop us disappearing. Less flying, more floating. I’m not sure why I’d expected anything more rudimentary than this given I was a complete novice. It’s probably something to do with the fact that I’ve got zero patience and expect to be able to jump straight in to things. You may have guessed this already.
When I got my turn to get strapped in and do my floating, it was actually quite enjoyable. It was a very windy day so we were getting buffeted around quite a bit whilst we were up in the air and you did get a sense of what It would be like, without any of the associated danger of crashing headfirst in to the side of a mountain. At the end of the lesson we were told to come back the next day for the second part.
As it turned out, the weather wasn’t good enough the following day so I had to wait a few more weeks before I got my second stint. Same kind of routine as before but a slightly different location in the Peak District. This time we were taken to a field with a fairly steep incline. Instead of being tethered like we were in the previous lesson, this time we would be getting much more of a flavour of learning to actually hang glide.
Once the glider was assembled the instructor showed us what he wanted us to do. You positioned yourself underneath the wings with the glider resting on your shoulders. You then started to run so that the wind would come under the wings enabling you to get off your feet and glide down the hill by holding on to the metal frame. You could then use the bar of the frame to push the wings up or down to catch the wind, enabling you to stay in the air. This was more like it. He did a few demonstrations and then it was our turn. It wasn’t that easy.
The first time I ran down, I just fell over in to a pile of sheep poo with the hang glider upended. Nice. The same thing happened a few times. Run, jump, crash, sheep poo. The instructor was very patient though and just kept suggesting adjustments to what I was doing. On about the fifth attempt, I ran a bit faster and felt the wind fill up the wings. I jumped up and this time the glider got airborne and I flew for about thirty metres before again landing in sheep poo. It actually felt really good. After that I got the hang of it (no pun intended) and managed to get slightly further each time. The instructor was delighted, much to the annoyance of one of the other guys who was there on the course. He was having a nightmare. However hard he tried he couldn’t get the glider off the ground. We’d had a conversation earlier where he’d admitted that hang gliding was something that he’d always wanted to do. He’d actually signed up for a week long course, so his lack of success was starting to get him down. He was getting a bit despondent and the instructor was clearly getting frustrated with him which can’t have helped. I think he gave in and left before the end of the day.
At the end of the session I was getting on well with the instructor. He was trying to encourage me to get in to it as a serious hobby. He started talking about joining as a member of his hang gliding club and was talking enthusiastically about the cost of gliders. Nice as it was, the experience hadn’t got me hooked. Being a fair weather sportsman the thought of only being able to only do it in windy conditions wasn’t appealing. I wasn’t about to make the same compulsive mistake I’d made with windsurfing and shell out thousands of pounds for a piece of kit I was never going to use. I’m sure the garage would have had room, but I’d had my fill of sheep poo related flying incidents.