2PanSam: Beijing Flying Man

My father plays table tennis, swims regularly, and does push-ups. I think of him as a fit man. He is fifty-two years old. His new hobby, which he's told me about many times but I've only seen firsthand since coming to China, is paragliding. That's the one where you run off the side of a mountain and hope to catch thermals, not the one where you are sitting down while being dragged by a boat. It's relatively easy to imagine someone doing this activity, but one's father?

I get to my father's apartment from the airport around 6:30am, and we rest for much of the morning. By 1pm we are on Great Wall Expressway heading towards the training grounds (a small mountain 75km outside of Beijing) where Dad has been practicing and flying his ‘chute for the past few months. Their club is called Beijing Flying Man (www.flying-man.com), and the instructors include a national champion paraglider. Contrary to popular opinion about alternative sports in developing countries (something the populous regularly gives an opinion on, I'm sure...), they can in fact, be pretty legit. By serendipity my arrival coincides with plans the club had to go to Inner Mongolia* for a weekend paragliding trip. I chat with an instructor for a few minutes, trying to get some gossip about my father. “Your father is a really diligent student, really hard working,” one says. My skepticism of this whole thing is tempered a bit by these words. After a quick lunch of steamed buns and preserved vegetables, our caravan of enthusiasts departs. I notice everyone has a Beijing Flying Man decal on their bumpers. My Dad has not put his on.

I awaken from my half comatose state to the vast expanse of grassland that was once characteristic of much of Inner Mongolia. These grasslands are quickly disappearing due to desertification caused by overgrazing, generally poor agricultural techniques and changes in climate patterns. The sun has just set and there is no light pollution for miles. I can 1) breathe pollution-free air and 2) see the amorphous swath of the Milky Way; both rare and much appreciated occurrences in China (or the US for that matter). Our lodging for the weekend are Mongolian style circular huts. They are about 25 ft in diameter with low ceilings with about 1/5 of the space partitioned into the bathroom. A western style toilet, sink and running water are all included. From the outside it looks rather traditional, but on the inside all the amenities (besides shower) one would want. I go straight to bed after dinner because sunrise is at 4:45am.**

Since we're at about 2000meters, the weather is much cooler than the stifling heat of Beijing. When I get up to take pictures around 5am it's actually cold outside. Dad gets up around 6 and says in a rather convincingly professional tone, “The winds are the perfect for doing some ground handling.” Ground handling, as I would see, is essentially trying to keep your parachute up while you are standing on the ground. Not unlike keeping up a big kite. For beginners, ground handling is essential. Dad says he has logged about 30 hours of ground handling time compared with less than half an hour of time in the air.

I'm surprised at how impressed I am by his beautiful red, white and blue “Arccus 4” parachute. When the wind fills the 'chute and it lifts 15 feet into the air straight above his head, all my skepticism about my Dad's new hobby is dispelled. This is cool as hell. Unfortunately, the winds would pick up after our morning session, and it would be too dangerous to try and fly for much of that first day. We spent much of it riding the horses that were kept behind the compound. By the afternoon, the winds would die down and we would hike up a small mountain nearby to go paragliding. What a thrill to see Dad get airborne! The following day I got to go in a powered hangglider. One word: Tiiiight. What an unexpected and exhilarating way to start of my summer tour...

*Inner Mongolia is a province in China that borders Mongolia.
**All of China is set to Beijing time so you get whacked out times for sunrise and sunrise.

1. Sunrise and our tents