Do you ever get those random passing suggestions that just appear in your brain? You know, it’s those unsolicited “what if this happened?” or “I wonder what it would be like to…” kind of thoughts. I certainly do, and often have fun imagining how such scenarios would actually play out. But a funny pattern I have noticed over the course of my life is that while I rarely entertain these thoughts beyond their passing moment, some of them will occasionally present themselves to me in the real world. Sure, it’s never exactly how I may have imagined it, but to some extent my intuition seems to be giving me a head’s up that something either is going to happen, or that I am going to have to make a choice or take a risk. A few weeks ago, that’s just what happened.
Since moving back to my home state of Washington from Southern California a year and a half ago, I have slowly but surely been re-familiarizing myself with hiking trails around these parts. In the last weekend of November, Kirk and I had chosen Poo Poo Point Trail, located in western Tiger Mountain State Forest. It is a relatively short, yet somewhat steep wooded trail leading to an expansive viewpoint overlooking Issaquah, and a particularly prime view of Mount Rainier on a clear day. It’s an excellent choice for a half day hike. A couple days before the trek I would learn that this spot also happens to be a popular launch for paragliders and hang gliders.
I had not put much thought into this fact until, of course, as we parked at the base of the trail a little passing thought floated through my brain. “Hmm, what if we got to the top and ended up flying down?” But upon stepping out of the car and seeing the gold and red autumn landscape ahead, I was soon distracted and ready to hit the trail.
It was a brief, brisk, and steep jaunt to the top. By the end, I was breathless. I’d like to say it was because of the view, although my recent lack of exercise combined with Kirk-induced laughter might be a more honest explanation. That’s not to say the viewpoint wasn’t spectacular. At golden hour the sky was blue, the horizon yellow, and Rainier stood picture perfect in the distance; all with a vibrant stream of multi-colored paragliding wings puffing up in the wind and disappearing over the edge.
Just as quickly as I caught my breath, I lost it again. For no sooner was I standing there on the cliffside entranced by people launching, than I found myself shaking the hand of Gus, a flight instructor for Seattle Paragliding. My intuition had not failed me— I knew right then that one of us would in fact be flying that day, and sure enough, I decided to go. Cue a rush of stoke, getting harnessed up, and pacing for what felt like forever.
After signing my life away and receiving a brief run-down of what launching would be like, we got situated in position. I was in front, secured to Gus behind me, with a large cushion underneath me that I would situate into like a chair once we were midair. As passenger, you have to run really hard towards the edge of cliff. Gus described it as me being the motor so he could focus on catching the wind with the wing, so it was crucial we had a reasonable speed going— which sent me into flashbacks of gym class and my tendency to jog the mile. Luckily, we laughed it off before I could get too in me head about it, and the next thing I knew, Gus was counting us down.
I wish I had the words to describe what it felt like to charge towards the edge of a cliff. It wasn’t scary or nauseating. Maybe that was because I was so focused on getting a strong run in— I picked a landmark in the distance and booked it. The wing caught air, pulling us back. It felt like trying to run underwater. But it was in this heavy slow motion that I felt my boots kick off of the last bit of earth, and instantly my body was soaring weightless at high speed.
I was surprised by how comfortable it felt. Sure, riding as the passenger, all I had to do was sit back while Gus handled the rest. He talked me through the whole flight— the different turns, the controls, and explained how the wind conditions effect different rides. His reassurance and skill made it easy to sit back and enjoy the ride. To my surprise, there was no sudden stomach-drop sensation. It was quite dreamlike to look down at my own feet dangling above a hillside of treetops, then turning to see the entirety of the cliff we had launched from only seconds ago, and Kirk looking like a tiny ant in the distance. All this with a perfectly orange and red sunset glazing over the whole scene. There wasn’t a moment to comprehend that I was completely exposed and flying. It was all I could do to take in the view and my weightlessness all at once.
And like waking from the dream almost as soon as we took off, we were back on the ground. Just across the landing field is Seattle Paragliding’s clubhouse, where you can hang out as you wait for the rest of your party to arrive by shuttle. In the bathroom I laughed in the mirror and wiped my face— tears from the wind and my own emotions had streamed into my ears the entire flight, and my lips were chapped from the wind and my inability to stop smiling. When Kirk arrived shortly after us, we cheersed Tequila by the campfire, and let the warmth bring tingles back to our hands and noses as we wore off the evening winter chill. Even after getting home, it was hard to come down from the stoke. This was easily one my favorite days.
For better or for worse, I am prone to living in the moment. This often involves giving very quick yes’s, such as this one. Spontaneity has always been an inherent part of my personality, though it has not always come naturally for me to act on it. Growing up as a very socially timid girl, I would regularly have internal battles of wanting to put myself out there, but feeling too insecure to go through with it. I have fought that curious side of myself, pushed that intuition I mentioned earlier to the side, and consequently said no to so many things.
Upon reflection, saying yes to paragliding that day felt like a testament to how much I’ve grown into myself. I owe much of that growth to the support I receive from my close circle. While the ability to openly express oneself and take risks always lays in the hands of the individual, the support of others gives a sense of permission and acceptance that makes a huge difference. I’m so grateful to friends that have stuck by me and encouraged me to feel confident. It makes me want to see them thrive and enjoy their lives just as much! And I am so proud of myself for continuing to do the work to shed those old layers of shyness, and for living intuitively. It makes me giddy-excited for the adventures I will continue to say yes to.