Almost Paragliding in San Gil

I can tell Cath doesn’t think this is a good idea.  She’s smiling, but it isn’t very convincing.  She’s strapped to one of our paragliding instructors and standing on the edge of a mountain overlooking the Chicamocha Canyon outside San Gil, Colombia.  The instructor has persuaded her that, although there’s not enough wind for a proper jump, they can take off and float to the bottom of the canyon, where the rest of us will pick them up on the way back to town.  What’s not to like?

Everything's looking good...

San Gil is the adventure capital of Colombia, and possibly South America.  Located north of Bogota in the warm foothills of the Andes, it is home to an increasing amount of extreme activities. The combination of strong rivers, an extensive caving system and picturesque mountains mean there are more than enough activities to keep the most active traveler busy for a few days.  Throw in ´Colombia´s Most Beautiful Town’ (Barichara, a 45-minute bus ride away, received the admittedly subjective honour in 1975), and it’s easy to see why the area’s tourist numbers are booming.

We had already experienced whitewater rafting, caving and abseiling during our long weekend.  We also visited the stunning, 180-metre high Juan Curi waterfall.  .  After a short hike, we were stood directly below the 180-metre cascade.  We all looked at the raging water pounding down, eying each other nervously, silently daring each other to bear the brunt of the waterfall’s power.   Finally, I stepped under the water.  I managed a stifled scream before the icy waters pummeled me into shock.

The climax of our trip, however, was meant to be our first paragliding expedition.  Cath volunteered to go first, but take-off was delayed.  Our leaders- who incidentally looked like they could have been on work experience from the local secondary school- decided there wasn´t enough wind, so we waited.  We passed the time by snapping some photos of the scenery.  The green, rounded mountains stretched in front of us, abruptly plunging into the canyon like a giant sinkhole.  

After an hour we had exhausted all photo opportunities and were eager to start.  Nature, however, was uncooperative.  Andean condors soared overhead, and jealousy mixed with the frustration we were already feeling. The guides gave up on our chances, and agreed to bring us back the following morning.  But before we left, one guide revealed his scheme to Cath.  After strapping in, they were ready to go. ´Corre! Corre!’ the guide encouraged her, ´Run! Run!’  ‘Estas seguro?’ Cath hesitantly replied. ‘Si! Si! Corre!’.  Then they were off the ground.

Not for long, though.  The wing briefly inflated, but as they took off, it slumped back to the ground.  After flying for a brief second, Cath and her increasingly rash guide landed.  ‘Corre! Corre!’ he repeated, showing a worrying lack of restraint.  Cath did run, straight off the edge and into the trees a few feet below her.  In disbelief, I ran towards her crumpled parachute.  Bemused and a little shaken, Cath was relatively unscathed. Her implicit trust of guides was the only casualty.

Abrupt landing after a short flight

The next day, we all survived incident-free jumps.  Hovering high above the mountains, our expectations of excitement and beauty were all met.  The frayed nerves from the previous day were forgotten.  Count on Colombia to provide adventure sports with some extra adventure.