Paula Hagiefremidis had always wanted to fly – and finally she decided to try it, or at least the closest thing to flying she could find – being swooped off a cliff in a hang glider…
I’m strapped in my harness, perched on top of the point at Pat Morton Lookout in Lennox Head.
Beside me, the chief pilot of Seabreeze Hang Gliding, Ashley Wilmott, completes the final safety checks and connects me to the frame of the glider, a task overseen by his assistant colleague. The penetrating roar of the northeasterly winds blowing in our direction has me wondering whether the conditions are suitable for flying. Wildly sashaying branches of nearby trees only serve to reinforce my concerns, but given the amount of other hang gliding companies also present, I put my concerns down to first time nerves and I’m reassured that conditions couldn’t be better.
“We like to fly with winds that range from 20 to 30 knots – today’s around 25, so it’s perfect,” so I’m informed by a fellow pilot, who thereby scuppers any chance I may be able to work my way out of the predicament I seem to have got myself in.
Wilmott briefs me on some simple instructions, designed to ensure I don’t get in the way of our launch for take-off. His enthusiasm and cheery grin lifts my confidence although not completely – but after an unconvincing o.k from my end and a gesture to his assistant, we’re ready to take flight.
Getting ready for take off: Paula Hagefremidis and pilot Ashley Wilmott
At this stage I have pre-conceived ideas about what’s involved. I picture myself sprinting alongside Wilmott, running to the end of the cliff and hoping the force of the wind will carry our weight into the sky and not have us plunging to the rugged rocks below, but the experience luckily, turns out to be far gentler than that and my adrenalin-fuelled enthusiasm amounts to nothing more than an over-active imagination.
As the pressure of the wind hits the cliff face, the glider is already making attempts to lift off the ground. Ashley steadies it with his body weight and I bounce on tiptoes while we wait for the opportune time to gently lift off. ‘Smooth enough take-off for you Paula?,’ he enquires as the grassy headland slowly falls away beneath us.
And they’re off – just a gentle lift and the glider is air-born…
I tuck my feet into the pouch of the harness and ready myself in the ‘prone’ position, a gliding term used to resemble being bird-like. The force of the wind alters greatly at this height and I experience the pressure penetrating through my ears, nose and mouth. Despite its relentless presence, there is still somehow a simultaneous stillness that envelopes me and the realisation begins to dawn on me that this is the closest I will ever get to being a bird.
The high point of the flight lifts us to 500 feet above the ocean, extended out in front of the cliffs. Wilmott’s shifting body weight controls the glider in the direction we choose to go and he performs a series of trick manoeuvers that dip the wing in sharp accelerated turns, displaying the capabilities that can be achieved during flight. A keen surfer, Wilmott compares the experience of the plunging twists we take riding the air, to that of riding a wave. The high speeds make me feel like I’m on a fast paced roller coaster ride.
The world drops away as they take flight over Lennox Head.
We hover over rooftops of residential houses and passing traffic travelling along the coast road. Wilmott fills me in on some special moments of flying he’s experienced in the passing decades and I’m struck by the opportunities he’s been witness to during that time. ‘I’ve flown in the Swiss Alps, I’ve been on top of a rainbow,” he tells me. “I’ve even had my glider shredded in mid-flight by territorially aggressive eagles attacking.”
A fully accredited Hang gliding federation of Australia pilot, Wilmott has spent time learning about the intricacies of weather conditions and aerodynamics since the 70’s. His greater pleasure is to offer the opportunity of sharing something he enjoys so with others.
Our 30 minute flight draws to a close, coinciding with the increasing wind that has picked up in the late afternoon. Wilmott confidently steers us back to the grassy headland we took off from and the sudden descent seems as though we’ll be heading for an abrupt landing, but, just as my thoughts on take-off were mistaken, so too are the ones for landing. As the approaching headland gets closer and closer, I’m mentally preparing myself to hit the ground running. The apparent threat of an accelerated landing disappears as Wilmott gently shifts his weight at the last minute and slows the pace of the glider right down, so that I am literally placing one foot in front of the other as we finally touch down.
It was a surreal sensation to be in the vast expanse of the sky, with its freedom and weightlessness such a contrast to our day-to-day life on the ground. Every time I look at the sky I think about the opportunity I had to experience a gift of this nature, and I’m grateful for it.
