Alone at 13,000 Feet: How Paragliding in the Alps Taught Me to Trust Myself

 

A seasoned Air Valkyrie

I arrived in Switzerland with a carefully planned itinerary, a backpack full of travel essentials, and a stomach full of butterflies. The Alps had always been on my bucket list, but one particular adventure kept nagging at the back of my mind: paragliding. The idea of soaring over snow-capped peaks sounded exhilarating, but every time I thought about actually running off a mountain, fear gripped me. Yet, something about that fear made it impossible to shake the idea. If it scares you, it might be worth trying, I told myself.

The morning of my scheduled flight, I almost canceled. My mind was racing with excuses: the wind might be too strong, the equipment might fail, or worse, I might panic mid-air. But as I stood outside my hostel, watching the early sunlight paint the peaks in shades of gold, I knew I couldn’t let fear make this decision for me. I texted the instructor to confirm: I’ll be there.

The launch site sat at 13,000 feet, a grassy cliff overlooking the valley below. I could see tiny specks of houses and winding roads far beneath the towering peaks. My instructor, Marco, was a seasoned professional with an infectious enthusiasm that made me feel marginally less terrified. He handed me a helmet and harness, explaining the process step-by-step. “Just run when I say run, and don’t stop until we’re in the air,” he said with a grin.

I nodded, but my legs felt like jelly. The parachute spread out behind us like a giant pair of wings, waiting to catch the wind. Marco’s voice broke through my swirling thoughts: “Ready?” Ready? Absolutely not. But before I could answer, he shouted, “Run!”

My feet moved almost on instinct, pounding against the soft earth as the wind tugged at the parachute. Every cell in my body screamed to stop, but I kept going. And then, suddenly, there was no ground beneath me. The wind caught us, lifting us higher and higher, and I realized I was flying.

The fear melted away as the world unfolded below me. The view was beyond anything I’d imagined: jagged peaks brushed with snow, verdant valleys cradling turquoise lakes, and the faint hum of life far below. The rush of air and the gentle swaying of the parachute felt surreal, almost like a dream. Marco pointed out landmarks and shared stories, but I barely heard him. I was too mesmerized by the sheer beauty around me.

For the first time in a long while, I felt completely present. The doubts, the fears, and the insecurities that often cluttered my mind were nowhere to be found. Up there, it was just me, the wind, and the endless expanse of the Alps.

When we finally landed in a soft meadow below, I was laughing uncontrollably, the adrenaline still coursing through my veins. I felt weightless, not just from the flight but from the realization that I’d conquered a fear that had loomed so large in my mind.

Paragliding wasn’t just a thrill; it was a lesson. Fear will always try to hold you back, whispering all the reasons why you shouldn’t take the leap. But sometimes, the most transformative experiences lie just beyond that fear. As I folded the helmet and handed it back to Marco, his grin matched mine. “You’re a natural,” he said, and for once, I felt like maybe I was.

Now, whenever I’m faced with a challenge that feels overwhelming, I think back to that moment on the edge of the cliff. The memory reminds me of the truth I discovered that day: If it scares you, it might be worth trying.