Crash Landing

by Lilyana Dimitrov (Australia)

A leap into the unknown Macedonia

Sardined into a dingy jeep going faster than it should up the side of a mountain, I found myself meditating on the upcoming death stunt, also referred to as Paragliding. The air was a fast and fresh, forest breeze. We were prepped with a safety talk that reiterated the importance of listening to our instructors. I tried my hardest to pay attention, distracted by the hypnotic view that peeped over the edge, 1,700 metres below. “Go there,” the guide said. “Borjan! Put your hand up.” Borjan shot up and raised his arm just as requested. I walked over to him, afraid and slightly intimidated by the sight of a cliff edge only metres away from where we were. Just like the rest of the professional gliders, Borjan wore some sick shades that reflected me in green and blue tones, as well as an outfit that seeped secret, spy suave. His smile was big and bright, and I understood what his shades were for. We exchanged names, some important information and he grabbed me by the shoulders as I got fitted into the harness. “Follow what I say, and we will have fun. Okay?” I simply nodded back and stayed quiet while a terrifying amount of equipment was latched onto us. “Now run!” He yelled from behind me and I did as was instructed. One, two, three steps forward and we were already airborne. Wind rushed past my face as we glided away from the edge of the mountain. I held on tight while Borjan pulled latches and strings to get us going in the right directions. This giant lake shared by both Albania and Macedonia was so big I had never seen one side from the other. Now, as we floated over the serene, rich blue, I could see it’s entirety. Every secluded edge, every sandy crevice and every public filled area from north to south, east to west. I tried to mentally photograph the intense greens and blues of the water, as they met in the low tides and smoothed over the rock beaches. Eerily clear, the water was welcoming at even its deepest, darkest points. The goPro was brought out and my mental photographing was put away. With all the dryness my mouth encountered from the gushing wind, I could not stop smiling. Nothing could make me feel anything less than pure joy in those 15 minutes. “Are we having fun?” Borjan asked, suspiciously. “Of course!” I yelled lifting my arms into the air. “Shall we have more fun?” He said, and I caught on. Told we could choose to do stunts while airborne with an additional fee charged when we landed. I was ready. “Yes!” And with that, we began to loop around the sky, tipping almost completely upside down. It was like an extreme roller-coaster ride that had no end. I thrived for the thrill. Sadly, everything comes to an end, and so our decent began. Borjan instructed me that we would land on our bottoms. We inched closer to the ground and I nervously waited for his signal to lift my legs. “Up! Up!” He yelled, almost getting lost with the wind. I did as he said and lifted, ready to go for a small slide on the dusty gravel. A big thump and we touched down. A fraction of a second into our slide and we capsized to the left, sliding with the air that was dragging our parachute along. After about six seconds we stopped and Borjan helped me up. He looked down at my left arm and realised I was bleeding. I hadn’t noticed until he’d stated it. I investigated a little further and found a small rip in my leggings and many scratches that were beginning to bleed on my arm. I assured him that they weren’t too painful but he kept apologising. We made our way back to the group and everyone who needed to, was paying for their in-flight extras. Borjan stopped me and said I didn’t have to pay. I smiled, we hi-fived and he apologised one more time before parting ways. One extraordinary ride, one crash landing and several euros for celebration drinks on me that night.