After just three weeks of marriage, I watched my husband jump off a mountain.
At least it was intentional. And with a parachute. And with an instructor.
Paragliding over the Swiss Alps is definitely a memory I will cherish. There is something so calm and serene about it, as long as it doesn’t bother you that the valley floor is hundreds of feet below you.
We started early in the morning (for us) so that we could avoid any risk of thunderstorms that were forecasted later in the day. Our instructor told us that he had done something like 18,000 flights, so we felt super comfortable with him. We took the gondola up to Fiescheralp, the instructor laid out the parachute, and then he and Phillip waited for a strong breeze to get them started.
Once they jumped, there wasn’t much more I could do except to wait. They disappeared from view fairly quickly, behind one of the other mountains, but the instructor took pictures and videos during the flight:
Once Phil was safely down on the valley floor, the instructor came back up the mountain and took me down as well.
Our instructor did some acrobatics with us. Phillip said that he was a little more forceful when the instructor asked if he enjoyed it or was feeling sick. I told my instructor that I got motion sickness, but enjoyed rollercoasters, so I guess he thought it was ok to do more spins and flips with me.
But we made it safely down the mountain and had a ton of fun doing it:
