Dec 28, 2005

A message sits on the noticeboard at the hostel reception for 'Paul and Nicholas'. "John called, he is going hang-gliding tomorrow 11am," it says, helpfully adding his hotel name and room number. I wouldn't have taken much notice, except that when I'd chatted with the same John the previous day about hang-gliding, I had been under the impression he would be leaving a message for me and Simon, with much more detail about where we should be and when! It didn't help that neither of us had any idea who 'Paul and Nicholas' were!

Simon eventually decides he doesn't have enough time to go hang-gliding anyway, so I'm left alone with the task of trying to work out what's going on, and where exactly anyone is meant to be at 11am! But first there's a few hurdles. Stef kindly informs me that he'd accidently told the next hostel we'd be moving to in Rio that we'd appear by 11am. (He forgot this wasn't the first hostel we'd be staying at in Rio, and therefore we wouldn't be coming straight from the airport!) Next hurdle, the concept of telephone directories doesn't seem to exist in Rio; the hostel reception, after an internet search for the hotel, rather sweetly ends up giving me the phone number of the headquarters for John's hotel network, instead of the hotel itself.

The following morning, I find the hotel number online, and after a few failed attempts at using a call card, finally succeed on a rather discordant phoneline in getting through to his hotel.

"...Hello?... oh yeah how are you... [crackle]... left a message... taxi picking you up from [crackle] at 11... [noise from hostel reception to my left]... some other people... [crackle]..." says John.

Tentatively preparing for the run off the ramp on the 520m high Pedra Bonita

View towards Praia do Pepino in São Conrado

View towards Corcovado, Ipanema, Copacabana and Morro dois Irmãos

To which I struggle painfully to explain that as I had to check into my next hostel that morning, I would have to make my own way to his hotel anyway. But in hindsight, I wonder if I'd misunderstood what he'd said. Perhaps I was supposed to explain to the other potential hang-gliders from the hostel there would be a taxi picking them up.

Anyway, having packed and checked out of the hostel, I don't have enough time to both check into the new place, and get to John's hotel in time. So I end up bundling my backpack onto Stef to take to our next hostel by taxi, and get the taxi to drop me off first at the hotel. He's very good natured about it, and we make arrangements to meet up at Sugar Loaf (Pão de Açúcar) later in case we don't run into each other at the second hostel.

After waiting in the air conditioned coolness of the hotel reception, John appears with his friend, Kevin, and we chat inanely. It emerges that John had left quite a clear message with the hostel reception, but it'd never quite translated into written form. "Paul and Nicholas were supposed to round everyone up. I left a message at the hostel that a taxi would pick them up at 11am, bring them here to the hotel, and then we'd go hang-glide." He adds: "No-one should've needed to call me!"

The other guys from the hostel appear, though not in the pre-booked taxi. I finally recognise who 'Paul and Nicholas' are, as well as Eugene and Kenny. Our pre-booked taxi driver does eventually appear, though not with enough space for seven passengers!

View towards Pão de Açúcar, Morro dois Irmãos, Lagoa Rodrigo de Freitas and the Rocinha favelas

More waiting spent outside the hotel as the driver tries to arrange another vehicle, in which time two other people overhear us and decide to join us. A second car appears, but now there isn't enough space again! Nicholas offers his lap for me to sit on in the front seat, and we spend over half an hour cramped Cuban style trying not to fall out of the car, or to accidently elbow each other in the face.

With relief we both tumble out of the taxi (it was likely more uncomfortable for him!) to discover we have more waiting around, as our instructors are still mid-flight. We head to a food stand until our instructors are ready for us.

We are driven up a bumpy narrow road to the top of Pedra Bonita, car horns blaring loudly to warn oncomers of our presence. Getting out of the car, we walk up some steps towards the many other hang-gliders and paragliders in the area. There's another food stand here, but other than that, a long strip of dirt, a wooden ramp angling down, and then... blue sky.

I try not to look too petrified as my instructor, Paul, straps me into my harness and pulls on my hat, while talking me through what I'm supposed to do as we take off. Most importantly: "Run!"

I must not have looked entirely convinced, especially as I was fidgetting with the harness, which I thought wasn't tight enough, as he tells me: "If you don't run, and something goes wrong out there, it'll be your fault!"

[Gulp].

"Are you going to run?" he shouts.

Above Praia do Pepino, with view towards Corcovado, Lagoa and Rocinha

Ponta do Marisco and the view towards Praia da Barra da Tijuca

Flying above Praia do Pepino, where we eventually land