I think it was the fact that I’d already spent so much time above the clouds in Rio de Janeiro, from gawking at the Christ the Redeemer statue atop Corcovado to watching the sun set from Pão de Açúcar’s peak, that led me to decide that I just couldn’t leave the city without hang-gliding from Pedro Bonita. Whether I was high on bird’s-eye beauty or just suffering from altitude-induced delirium, I’m not sure. Either way, on my last morning in town, I found myself running at full speed off a ramp in tandem with a hang-gliding instructor I’d met 10 minutes before. This was about 45 minutes after paying $10 for my “pilot’s license” and 5 minutes after practicing my liftoff run (one time).
At any one of those steps, I probably should have been tipped off that this may not be the best idea I ever had. Or when one of the men issuing us our pilots’ licenses was wearing a neck brace. But as Holly wrote here in September, travel has a way of masking our fears and making us abandon any usual sense of caution.
Before I knew it, I was running off the ramp and soaring above the city—the sea, beaches, mountains, mansions, and favela slums grew more detailed as I flew closer to the ground, a gentle wind the only thing between me and Rio. But the considerable thrill of flying was nothing compared to the shock I got upon landing.
Just after I touched down on the beach and began to free myself from my glider and my instructor, I turned around to see the hang-glider directly behind me crash. The emergency parachute deployed, the glider twisted awkwardly and just cleared a cliff before landing hard on the sand.
It turned out that it wasn’t either of my friends waiting to take off, but there were several tense minutes until this was confirmed. A rescue helicopter landed next to the beach, and the professional hang-glider and his tourist client were examined and transported to the hospital. They were moving and conscious, but, if nothing else, suffered serious abrasions from pieces of the broken glider.
If I had to do it over again, I’d probably still go hang-gliding. And I don’t believe that, in general, this or any other adventure activities are inherently unsafe. But my close call was a reminder of the unpredictability of life, which is especially true when traveling. And that’s probably something it wouldn’t hurt to recall once in a while.
What surprises have others faced while traveling that caused you to pause and reconsider your decisions?
