Sublimity

At the best of times I have a tendency towards the superlative, but when it comes to describing paragliding, as I was over the phone today, there are no holds barred.

 

Late one afternoon a fortnight ago, I was stepping off main launch at Col de la Forclaz, bearing north along the ridge towards Les Dents but heading east to soar up the smooth but precariously steep grassy slope leading to La Tournette. It was yet another day where the cloud had not lifted off the peak, which although a dissappointment in so far as it denied me the chance to overfly the peak, created an ethereal playground in the sky, where I could dare to explore the edges of these mighty beings of nothing more than water droplets, and marvel at the moody shadows and pools of light breaking through to the mountain below.

 

In the next hour I let the bouyant evening air carry me over the peaks of Les Dents and back to La Tournette, but it was when I gave myself back to gravity, on the glide back over La Forclaz launch, that the clouds to the west now grated the lowering sun into striking rays, cast all over southern end of Lake Annecy.

 

Effortlessly soaring above the dark forests and lush pastures bathed in golden light, I couldn't let gravity have me back just yet..

Done