How To Run Off a Cliff and Not Die: Paragliding in Mendoza, Argentina

Mendoza, Argentina, South America
By Steve Hoffman

If you’d asked me as I’d stepped off the bus in Mendoza what I’d be doing six hours later that day, my first answer certainly wouldn’t have been, “Standing on the edge of a steep dirt ramp, a paraglider strapped to my back, peering out at the ground, 4500 feet beyond the edge of the mountain, and hoping this thing fills with air and lifts me skyward when I start running, as I’ve been told to do.”

I will be jumping off the top of this mountain and flying 30 minutes down to where I’m standing now

Mendoza, Argentina offers the adventure traveler a host of options, including skiing, cycling, paintball, of course, paragliding. Paragliding began in the early 1960s when a skydiver ran off the edge of a mountain for the first time wearing a specially rigged rectangular parachute. Since then the sport has grown rapidly and is practiced worldwide. Paragliders have soared to altitudes of over 18,000 feet, have flown over 423 kilometers (264 miles), and can stay aloft for many hours in the right conditions.

Anyway, back to me and my mountain. Upon arriving at the hostel I met up with two fellow travelers, both from San Francisco, who also wanted to go paragliding. The three of us headed out to the base of the mountains to meet our pilots. Upon arrival we learned the wind was a bit too strong at the moment, but should improve within the hour. So we grab a seat on the hood of the Land Cruiser and wait.

Paragliding is a close cousin to hang gliding. Hang gliders fly faster and require a bit more skill to handle, but can they can withstand stronger winds and turbulence than the more delicate paraglider. Another huge advantage of the paraglider is portability. It can be stuffed into a large 50 pound pack you can strap on your back like any other. One of our instructors showed up on a motorcycle with his monster pack on his back, then hopped in the Land Cruiser with the rest of us for the ensuing 40-minute ride up to the launch area. The winds had died off a bit as the afternoon progressed, it was time to go.

Looking back now, the 4×4 ride to the top was the scariest part of the whole day. A steep, winding, rock-strewn road with sheer drop-offs that would lead to a grizzly death was on order most of the way. The driver seemed completely unconcerned. He spent more time looking at the guy in the passenger seat and gesturing wildly as he talked, obviously relating a story more important than our well-being on the rocky, shifting road.

The view across the valley floor

At the top, we were rewarded with expansive views in all directions. To the west were the mammoth and impressive snow-capped Andes. To the east was Mendoza, clearly the “oasis in the desert” it’s purported to be. Except for this city of 800,000, there was nothing else but desert to the horizon in all directions.

“Run, run, run!” was my mantra for the takeoff. This was the one and only thing I had to remember to ensure my survival, according to Eduardo, my pilot. Eduardo had over 10 years of experience and had made more than 10,000 flights. He was an instructor and a test pilot. If I would just run, he’d take care of everything else to get us safely airborne. Sounded like a good deal to me.

We caught a bit of a gust while we were running down the dirt ramp, and the glider rose up and swung left, dragging us a bit left as well, and right towards a three foot piece of 2″ round PVC pipe sticking proudly out of the ground just ahead of me. A 33″ inseam and a 36″ piece of pipe equals no chance of procreation for me. All this crossed my mind in the two seconds we were aimed squarely at the pipe. Luckily a second little gust carried us just a bit further to the left and we skimmed by the pipe and were airborne.

“Beep beep beep!” started sounding from the variometer – meaning we were in a thermal and climbing. Soon we were several hundred meters above the ridge from which we’d taken off, looking down on the others preparing for their launches.

The rest of the flight was glass smooth and exhilarating. I actually had a seat to sit on. It was up my back at takeoff, but I’ve now pulled it underneath my butt and I’m sitting quite comfortably, ignoring the fact that a few dozen Kevlar lines attached to the nylon glider are all that are holding me in the air.

The glider cruises along at about 20 miles per hour or so, a nice breeze across my face. Eduardo controls the glider via two cables, which he pulls on individually to steer the glider left and right along the ridge and around in circles in the thermals.

Looking spiffy

We cruise back and forth along the ridgeline, climbing higher in the few thermals we find. Soon the second glider is airborne and heading our way. We begin a leisurely dance together, soaring gracefully through the thermals in the afternoon sun. At one point the second glider circled above us and then dove off to the right – if the Red Baron had had paragliders back in World War I, I’d imagine that’s what a paraglider dogfight may have looked like. Everyone was all smiles and whoops and screams of joy could be heard echoing off the mountain peaks.

We flew for about thirty minutes, but it seems like about half that. Before I knew it, we were circling the landing area. My mantra for the landing was the same and for the takeoff, just “run, run, run” as we neared the ground. We pulled off a picture perfect stand-up landing, the glider deflating behind us as we stopped.

I would have gone again in a heartbeat if I could have, but Eduardo and the boys were done for the day. The bird’s eye view, smooth ride, gentle breeze, and utter quiet of gliding are quite a rush, and very addictive. I was hooked, and will paraglide again when the opportunity presents itself.