I’m pretty sure every little boy dreams of flying, as if he were a bird or superhuman: free, exploring the world’s wonders from its infinite sky. I’m also pretty sure that every man is just a little boy trapped in an adult body. So, for the boyfriend’s 30th birthday, I got him the gift of wings. Or, one wing, rather — a canopy glider  — the parachute-like device used for paragliding.

Maitencillo, Chile, a quaint coastal town about 100 miles northwest of Santiago, is home to both a tawny sand shoreline and some of the country’s best wind.  In other words, there’s no better place to “fly.”

But come Oct. 7, those supposedly perfect weather conditions in Maitencillo failed us and Mark had to take a rain check. I’d pictured clear skies, adrenaline pumping and us soaring over our favorite scenery — the sunlit beach — to celebrate Mark’s 30 years and start the next 30 off right. Instead, we made cold cut sandwiches in the back of the Jeep in the midst of a rainshower after pulling over to pee in the middle of nowhere. We laughed and clinked our soda cans to life’s unexpected turns and excitement for the future.

After busy Hash weekends and holiday madness, we were finally able to cash in that rain check last week to celebrate Mark’s now-30 years and almost three months in existence. And it was, at last, just as I’d pictured.

Wings. Photo by Mark Wilson

The wind bustled by at 15 miles an hour (24 km/h), perfect conditions for paragliding that has restrictions in gusts over 18 (30 km/h). There wasn’t a cloud in the sky.

As the time for takeoff neared, my nerves settled when I realized we didn’t have to jump off a cliff and hope for the parachute to open. Instead, paragliding pilots open their wing-like “glider” and run to the edge of a cliff where it lifts you over the edge before having to make “the jump.” Unexpectedly, there’s no freefall and little adrenaline;  just smooth sailing. Perhaps there is more thrill involved for solo pilots, some of whom seemed to do flips in the air.

Since Mark and I have no experience in this sport, we flew tandem with an instructor.

Me. Photo by Mark Wilson

Mark.

Mark in the distance.

Besides the obvious fact that we were flying without any help of an engine or motor (which is pretty cool), the coolest part about the experience was the incredible view.

With the instructor controlling the flight, you could sit back and relax — look at the world from, quite literally, a whole new perspective. The ocean still stretched out to the endless horizon, along verdant green hills speckled with humble traditional homes and tall modern condo complexes. But people looked like ants, their beach umbrellas nothing more than blobs of color. The wind was a constant gush, not the fluttery bursts of power like on ground level. Birds in their V-shaped flocks flew right among the dozens of scattered paragliders as if the two creatures somehow both belonged together in the aerial universe.

The coastline.

Birds-eye-view. Literally.

A paraglider and a bird, flying together.

I flew for 20 minutes, and Mark for 30 — time that seemed to fly by, pun intended.

A gust of wind came up as I was landing, making it a pretty rough entrance back on solid ground. The parachute wouldn’t come down, dragging us a bit across the platform until the assistant successfully held us down to earth. Mark had it a bit easier, a smooth serene landing on the sandy beach.

Mark.

Me.

Woo!

Flying wasn’t the adrenaline pumping experience I’d imagined. It was better — relaxing. The wind lapping, a fresh cool breeze across your face while looking below to Chile’s dynamic landscape. It all made me a bit woozy. Mark wants to take lessons to fly on his own.

I’d call that a birthday-milestone-celebration-success, even if it ended up being a bit belated.

—JDF