My Journey Into Paragliding — Long Before My First Solo Flight
My journey into paragliding started long before my initiation flight.
In fact, it began on September 21st, at a Meet -Up event about launching businesses on Instagram.
I had just started my own training journey as an entrepreneur. That day, I met inspiring people, built connections, felt alive — full of a new-found motivation, as if I had finally found a direction that felt right.
I went to that event with zero expectations.
And yet, it turned out to be life-changing.
In this post, I don’t only want to talk about paragliding itself, but about the moment life quietly placed it on my path — the moment something invisible started unfolding.
Because on that day, two sparks appeared:
One about paragliding.
One about my upcoming trip to Bali.
Many sparks, actually.
And I’m forever grateful I met him that evening — because deep down, I know he led me to paragliding… and to everything paragliding represents in my life today.
Destiny or not — I simply say thank you.
It shaped my life choices in the most positive way and helped me grow as a person.
A First Taste of the Sky — Spain, País Vasco
A month before that MeetUp, I had already experienced my first tandem flight in Spain, in the País Vasco
I loved it instantly.
I remember being endlessly curious — asking questions the entire time:
Is it difficult to fly?
How long does it take to learn?
Can anyone do it?
Maybe the pilot made it sound easier than it is… But within the first two minutes of that flight, I knew:
I want to learn how to fly.
Because… why not?
For the entire month that followed, I researched how to start paragliding in Spain. I wondered if I could train there, organise a trip around it, make it happen somehow.But it required planning — and holidays — time I didn’t have. So I put the dream aside.
Or at least, I thought I did.
The Meeting That Changed Everything
Back to the MeetUp event.
Everyone was asking each other what their Instagram accounts were about.
Mine? Spanish teaching.
His?
…Paragliding.
I remember thinking: Wow. That’s amazing.
We only exchanged a few words, but the idea started buzzing in my mind immediately:
What if I did another tandem flight?
What if he could guide me?
What if… I actually learned how to fly?
It felt electric. Unexplainable.One of those moments where something just feels aligned — even if you don’t understand why yet. I know I wasn’t the only one feeling it.
At some point, I thought he had left. And I remember thinking:
No… how do I find him on Instagram? I need to know more.
Someone eventually gave me his account name.
I was exhausted that night. Cold. I had a long drive home ahead of me. It was getting late and people were leaving after the event ended.
But strangely… I couldn’t leave.
Something was keeping me grounded there.
There was just something about him — an energy, a presence, a curiosity I couldn’t ignore. I was trying to find a moment to talk to him alone at the end of the event, but it never happened. He didn’t come alone and left accompanied.
We were among the very last ones to leave.
I know in my heart that I met him so that I would discover paragliding. Without him, I would never have started, never imagined the possibility of flying solo. I would have postponed it to “later in life”… or maybe never done it at all.
I won’t mention any names unless permitted — some encounters are meant to stay that way.
At the very end of the evening, a small group of us spoke briefly about Bali. And suddenly — bam — a thought occurred:
What if I attended the next event there? What if I turned it into a trip?
Bali had always been a dream. In fact, it almost was my solo trip when I was 20 years old… instead of Peru.
The Idea Takes Flight
I remember sending a WhatsApp voice message to one of my best friends before driving home: “I just met someone who does paragliding!!!” I was overly excited — you know that kind of excitement that comes from deep inside your chest.
Our first conversation by message started. And yes — it was about paragliding. He sent me the link of the initiation course his school was organizing.
I went to watch him fly twice before making my decision. Seeing him — and others — in the air was unforgettable. I was in awe. And it was attractive as hell. It looked powerful. Free. Emotional even.
I also connected with the instructor and the atmosphere of the school. It felt genuine, human, heart-led. That mattered to me.
Signing Up
It was October 13th when I finally registered. My heart had decided earlier, like it was meant to be. But my mind needed time to be “reasonable.”
The initiation weekend would take place on November 8–9th. I couldn’t wait. But patience was part of the journey.
Day 1 — Learning Humility on the Training Slope
I was excited, and surprisingly, I slept well. I didn’t really know what to expect, I just hoped I would get the hang of it. The first day was all about ground training — inflating the sail on the pente école.
Four of us started: two men, two women, supported by two flight assistants.
It was a beautiful November day — unexpectedly warm and sunny.
But it was exhausting. Inflating the sail looked easy from afar… but it wasn’t. I failed. Many times. I doubted myself.
Would I really be able to take off the next day if I struggled so much just to control the sail on the ground?
There was so much input. So many technical terms. So many steps to learn. Corrections to remember.
At the end of the day, I was pretty exhausted. Maybe I hadn’t drunk enough water — hydration is crucial in paragliding.
Despite all the failed attempts, I chose to remember the few moments I succeeded — when I held the wing above my head for a few seconds.
Those seconds felt like an adrenaline rush.
Still, attaching myself correctly to the harness without help felt complicated — and I wondered if I’d be ready to fly the next day.
That night, stress crept in. The next day would include my first solo flight. And I didn’t feel ready.
Day 2 — Fear, Headache, and Courage
During the night, I woke up with a pounding headache. I was excited and stressed, and I honestly wondered how I could possibly fly like that.
We were in Ollon (Vaud).
I took time for myself that morning — breathing exercises, grounding, calming my body. I went up to the takeoff with the group anyway.
At first, I stepped back, continuing to train inflation while waiting to feel better. I wasn’t alone — the instructor was there… and so was he. His support and coaching gave me strength. Confidence. Courage. Little by little, I felt ready.
The Educational Tandem Flight
Before flying solo, we did an educational tandem flight. Back in the air, I felt that familiar rush of freedom.
But surprisingly… I also felt disappointed. I had expected to pilot more, to experiment. Instead of having the controls, the commands, I mostly followed movements. Ironically, I felt I had learned more during my commercial tandem in Spain.
Still — it served its purpose. Because when I landed, I knew:
I’m ready for my first solo flight.
My first solo flight
Back at takeoff, my headache had almost disappeared. But fear was there. I was afraid I wouldn’t manage the takeoff. I had struggled so much the day before. And even on that day. But I didn’t want to give up and just tried again and again. I had to be told several times the same thing and was thankful for the patience of the flight assistant.
First attempt: failed.
I was hesitant. My takeoff wasn’t perfect at all — if you know paragliding, you’d see I skipped phases.
Second attempt… Success.
And suddenly — I was in the air.
He took off just after me. He wasn’t a pilot yet, but knowing he was there changed everything.
I didn’t feel alone.
I felt confidence.
I remember the beauty of that moment. It was one of the most memorable moments of my life.
I remember the lightness.
The silence (except for the radio).
The overwhelming beauty of the view.
The freedom.
At some point, I even let go of the commands a little— relaxing into the harness, trusting the sail, trusting myself.
Flying side by side with someone I deeply cared about — doing something I once thought I’d never dare to do.
I felt powerful. Like the sky itself was expanding what I believed possible — not just in flying, but in life.
Learning to Land — Trusting the Process
Landing, however… was another story.
Guided by radio, I trusted the instructions — but I had zero notion of height.
Was I too high? Too low? Would I land in the right field? It was scary.
There were cars in front of the landing zone and I remember thinking:
I’m going to land on them. I’m dangerously low.
I didn’t.
I landed just beyond them — safely, on my feet.
Heart racing. Adrenaline rushing.
But I did it.
Paragliding – more than a sport
Looking back, paragliding entered my life quietly — through encounters and perfect timing.
It was never just about flying.
It was about:
Letting go of control.
Trusting timing.
Following intuition.
Meeting people who mirror parts of your destiny.
From País Vasco to Swiss mountains… from tandem passenger to soon-to-be solo pilot…
Paragliding became part of who I am.
Not only in the sky — but on the ground too.
Because every flight reminds me that courage isn’t the absence of fear.
It’s choosing to run toward the edge anyway… and discovering you were ready all along.
And for that — for every takeoff, every lesson, every magical moment in the air —
I am endlessly grateful.
