Paragliding, Not Quite Skydiving

When we were in Queenstown on our South Island trip, my roommate Betty and I opted to go paragliding while the rest of our group went skydiving. Now, for those of you who know me, you are probably thinking, why in the hell would Kaʻiulani go paragliding? The answer is simple... I have no idea why the hell I ever went paragliding! For those of you who don't know me, I'm the girl at the fair that holds everyones bags while THEY go on the rides.

Nevertheless, I decided to literally run myself off of one of the highest mountains in Queenstown with nothing but a parachute and a strange man strapped to my back keeping me from plummeting to my death. Sounds like a great idea, sign me up!

Once I paid my fee, and we started driving up the mountain, I suddenly regretted what I was about to do. I think I said something to the effect of wanting to cry on the way up to which the guys flying tandem replied, well that's not really a positive outlook.

This was me at the top of the cliff that I was about to run off of. Betty may be posing to make me feel better, but I was really feeling the way my face looks at the moment.

When we were finally at the top, the guys set up the chutes and strapped us in our harnesses so quickly and casually, as per usual when interacting with Kiwis. Once I was connected to the parachute, my tandem briefly explained that we were going to walk swiftly to the edge of the launching point and when he says go, I was to start running until I was no longer on the ground... Okay... The next thing I know, the guy says okay run! What!?! I didn't even have time to absorb the fact that I was standing on the side of a mountain about to meet the bottom before I was running off of it.

Once the initial shock wore off, it was really incredible to take in the view over the back side of Queenstown.

This is me trying to look cool, calm, and collected. Actually, at this point I was thinking, ah, this isn't so bad after all.

Then my tandem surprised me by doing some kind of crazy spiral in the air that took us right up to the side of the mountain making it seem like we were going to hit it. Of course, I screamed and cursed a bit, but then things settled down again and I thought, I dunno why I'm always so worried about these things, this is really not that bad.

As we were getting close to our landing zone, the guy asked me if I wanted to do a bit of acrobatics before the flight ended, and thinking that I made it through the last bit, and hell I'm up here already, I told him, sure why not?

Worst idea ever! I mean it was cool and all, but then once the adrenaline wore off, my legs turned to Jello and I spent the rest of the day nauseated and unable to function. THIS is why I don't do these things. Not because of the fear factor, I find that part exciting, rather, the fear of the aftermath. I know I get terrible motion sickness, and I know that engaging in these types of activities will always result in me feeling like shit for the rest of the day, walking on the line between a headache and wanting to throw up.

All in all, it was an incredible experience and we made it to the ground safe and sound. I'm really glad I did it, if for no other reason than to assure myself that, no, I do not want to go skydiving, and that this is something that I now know I never need to do again.

The rest of my friends ended up skydiving the next day, as the weather conditions postponed their trip. Here's some pictures I took of them at the landing zone.