Just Start - and Roll with the Punches

As the curtains fell on the year gone by, I found myself craving an adventure that would defy gravity and infuse a healthy dose of fearlessness into my life. So, naturally, I decided to take to the skies for a bout of tandem paragliding in the enchanting Kijabe Hills. Now, what drove me to willingly fling myself into the heavens? Was it the burgeoning adrenaline junkie within me, or perhaps a dwindling fear of the inevitable? Who's to say? But there I was, not just booking a flight but tagging my friends along into this gravity-defying escapade.

Upon reaching the paragliding site, I quickly realized that my high school geography lessons were about to pay off. Allow me to refresh your memory with useless information, long forgotten. In paragliding, you need three things: consistent wind strength and direction, relatively clear skies and thermals. "What are thermals?", you may ask. Thermals are these rising air bubbles created when the sun heats the Earth's surface, and this warm air starts to rise because it's lighter than the surrounding cooler air. As it rises, the paraglider can fly into it and gain altitude. (Feel free to erase this useless information from your head immediately). None of these aforementioned things are within your control so you need prayers as well. As a beginner, you’ll do tandem paragliding where you’re assigned a pilot responsible for navigating the skies as you sit and enjoy the views. So off I went!

Day 1 was a misfire. The weather had other plans, turning our quest for daring flights into an impromptu road trip to Kijabe hills and back. Undeterred and fueled by determination (and possibly a smidgen of stubbornness), I returned the next day, and voila! The weather decided to play nice. With prayers answered and a capable pilot by my side, we ascended to the summit, ready to turn gravity on its head.

Take off! Gliding through the air for about 10 minutes, I experienced a euphoric dance with the clouds, interspersed with my intermittent screams of pure exhilaration—because nothing says "I'm alive" like screaming while suspended mid-air. There I was, living the dream, enjoying the view, patting myself on the back for being so courageous …

Out of the blue, flying over thickets and bushes, my pilot dropped a casual "Shit!" – a phrase you never want to hear when you're suspended miles above the ground, supported by what can only be described as glorified strings and paper.

In a state of whispered panic, I mustered the courage to inquire, 'What's wrong?' His response: we were losing altitude, the thermal remained as elusive as a cat avoiding a bath, and an urgent landing was the need of the hour. Now, I may not be a seasoned paragliding expert, but 'Where?' seemed like a perfectly reasonable question to ask when you're descending into bushes, thickets and rocks. I desperately hoped our eyes were synchronized, because he surely must be looking at the same thing that I am. There was nowhere to land!

You'd think in such dire straits, I'd channel my inner calm and courage I was previously bragging about, right? Wrong. My brain initially decided to take a detour into the land of denial, vehemently arguing with the pilot about the impossibility of our descent. I missed the memo that we weren't on negotiating terms here.

While I pleaded for a U-turn and a swift return to sanity, the pilot, ever the soothing voice of reason, kept placating me. 'We're okay, everything's fine, just looking for a better spot,' he assured me. So there I was, caught in a battle between my desperate pleas and his unwavering confidence. My brain, now performing acrobatics akin to an overenthusiastic squirrel, switched tactics – 'Think happy thoughts, think happy thoughts. Prayers, prayers. Thoughts and prayers. This can't be my grand divine paragliding exit. God, please don’t use me as an example!'

Amid the airborne chaos, as my pilot continued his search for the perfect landing spot, I couldn't help but marvel at the absurdity of it all. Kibet, my daring pilot, pulled out all the stops to execute a landing that could be described as a blend of smooth ballet and accidental bush dance. We glided into a thorny bush with all the finesse of a clumsy beginner on roller skates. Now, let me assure you, the thorny embrace was less than comforting, and I emerged with a fashionable collection of scratches. Yet, in the grand scheme of airborne misadventures, I remained miraculously unharmed – a testament to Kibet's navigational prowess in the face of wildly unpredictable weather conditions.

As I stood there, plucking leaves and thorns from my now less-than-stellar ensemble, a surge of annoyance coursed through me. Why, oh why, couldn't we have had a Hollywood-worthy, feather-light landing? However, amidst the thorny fashion critique, a moment of clarity struck. Kibet, against all odds, had ushered us to safety amid unpredictable weather, and here I was, grumbling about the lack of a red-carpet touchdown.

As with many of life's grand plans, I tend to harbour a secret expectation for perfection. Yet, in this tangled thicket of reality, I realized this was as good a time as any to unlearn the pursuit of perfection. Chastising myself for my fleeting annoyance, I shifted gears to a more appreciative mindset.

However, reality wasn't quite done with me. The laughter of the universe echoed as I discovered our post-landing predicament – a one-hour hike away from the designated landing zone. Now, call me lazy, but hiking was not part of my grand paragliding vision. Nevertheless, with a sigh and a mental shrug, I decided to turn this unintended hike into an impromptu adventure, allowing myself to roll with the punches. Because, let's face it, life's escapades are far more entertaining when they're sprinkled with thorns, scratches, and an unexpected hike into the unknown.

During our hike back, I seized the opportunity to learn Kibet’s story. He began his airborne escapades at the tender age of 14. Picture this: a fearless young boy in Iten, his hometown, captivated by the spectacle of Americans and Europeans gracefully soaring through the skies. The audacity! Driven by sheer ambition, Kibet embarked on a solo mission to conquer the heavens. No instructor, no high-tech gear—just a dream to fly and a knack for MacGyvering.

With a glint in his eyes, Kibet unravelled the chronicles of his early attempts, involving strings and polythene paper haphazardly strung together. Now, let's not romanticize this. For months, his efforts resembled less of a graceful flight and more of a series of dramatic falls from small hills. But fate had other plans. In a twist that could rival a Hollywood plot, an experienced paraglider finally took notice of the ambitious teenager's antics. Wise in the ways of airborne tomfoolery, he warned Kibet against his makeshift endeavours and, in an unexpected turn of events, committed to imparting the sacred art of paragliding.

Fast forward to the present, and here stands Kibet—no longer the teenage daredevil with strings and dreams but a seasoned pilot and instructor capable of navigating unpredictable circumstances.

Reflecting on Kibet’s story, I couldn't think of a more fitting conclusion to my year. A reminder echoed through the hills, urging me to embrace the essence of Kibet's journey – just start. Even when your dreams seem as improbable as flying off small hills with improvised gear, take that leap. You never know who might notice your audacious attempts and turn them into soaring realities.

So, as January unfolds, my solemn admission to you is simple—just start. Be it the seemingly impossible dream or the daunting challenges at work, let the spirit of Kibet guide you.