Who do I have to thank for this awesome invention? Well, the story goes something like this...

While descending the Alps one blustery day, Lars and Jurgen, a couple of Swiss mountain climbers, began arguing about the fastest route back to the Ulrich Tavern. Jurgen tripped and tore his lederhosen and hollered, "That does it, next time I'm jumping off this wretched mountain!" To which Lars exclaimed, "Wunderbar, Jurgen, you've got it! We'll jump down!" On their next climb, our daring duo brought ram air parachutes up with them. But, more importantly, they made sure they brought Sven along 'cause he'll try anything. Sven was the first to hurl himself off the face of the mountain, and Lars and Jurgen were quick to follow. Their trip back to the tavern had never been such a thrill before. Soon mountain climbing became just a tedious means to an end. Jurgen and Lars longed to spend more time in the air. They began to experiment with the size and shape of their parachutes. That's when yesterday's skydiving chutes began to be transformed into today's high performance paragliders.

Think of paragliding as sailing, but instead of riding the wind across the ocean, it allows you to soar upward into the sky on an elevator of air. A paraglider looks like an overgrown parachute, but that's where their similarity ends. Its performance is akin to a hang glider in that it may be foot launched from the top of a hill; stay aloft for hours; be lifted skyward by thermal air currents; and carry its euphoric pilot across seemingly endless miles. Sound like fun?... then let me take you on a paragliding adventure. California's central coast is a virtual paradise for paragliding. Montana de Oro State Park offers some of the best conditions for safe, scenic, fun flying -- so let's head there.

First we must call the park rangers and notify them of our pilot rating and wing colors, then we drive to one of two designated launches. My little Honda civic carries all we'll need for today's adventure. Upon arriving at the park, we shoulder our backpacks (each stuffed with a glider, harness, helmet, energy bars, and a water bottle). A short hike down the dune trail will bring us to the end of our destination by foot, and the beginning of a day spent surfing the sky. The steady sea breeze in our faces heightens our anticipation and our pace quickens. Halfway there we spot sea gulls soaring along what will soon be our own flight path. The fluffy whitecaps and blowing grass are excellent visual indicators of today's favorable wind speed and direction.

Bounding to the top of the dune, we race to be the first to take off. I pull my paraglider, or "wing" as we affectionately call them, out of its pack. Within three minutes I'll be ready to launch. Now secure in my harness, my lines straight and toggles in hand, I firmly pull up on the risers. What was, seconds ago, a heap of rip stop nylon lying in the sand, is now a perfectly formed airfoil floating above my head. The gentle tug on my harness beckons me upward as I turn around and step into the sky. It is usually at this point that I half expect to hear Rod Serling warn me that I "have now entered the twilight zone"; since defying gravity and exploring three dimensional space this way are so far outside the realm of normal human experience. But I just settle comfortably back into my harness and glide untethered above the rolling surf.

Montana de Oro is a jewel of God's creation, and enjoying it from a sea gull's perspective is beyond my wildest dreams. Off in the distance, Morro Rock rises and falls with the horizon, while we perform "dolphin dives" in perfect synchronization, as if suspended from a huge swing set in the sky. Practicing "touch-and-go's" and pinpoint landings exercises our finesse. With the wind singing in my ears, I drop down on the edge of the bluff and drag my toes in the sand, before banking a hard turn out and away. While hovering just two feet above their heads, you explain our antics to the fascinated hikers drawn by this phenomenon of aviation. Each flight is an opportunity to hone our skills and gain respect for the wonders of the wind. Each flight is a gift to be cherished.

We continue to soar the onshore breeze at the point where it is deflected upward by the bluff. A slight lean to the left and a deliberate tug on my left toggle, turn the wing above me and I make a downwind pass on the ridge. Heading toward Hazard Canyon, I look down to see a couple writing "LOOKS LIKE FUN" in the wet sand below. Thankfulness floods my being. My childhood dream is now a reality thanks to paragliding. The sun sinks into the ocean and the wind speed slows -- time to come back to earth... until our next Central Coast flying adventure, when we'll get off the planet once again!