“Right, we’re going to hike up this mountain and then jump off it. OK girls?”
There we were, an hours drive south of Marrakech in a place where there is no electricity or warm water, ploughing is done by donkeys and can only be describe as the Middle Ages, hiking up what the locals call Magic Mountain – all because we bumped into the right person in some rather unusual circumstances at Bristol airport.
Let me expand.
Our initial plan was to ride the mountains of the High Atlas; perfect snow, perfect sun and donkey’s substituting chairlifts. Of course, as we all know, when traveling by the budget airline, it’s necessary to have the lightest possible luggage. We were wearing our snowboard boots.
Unfortunately, a cheeky day snowboarding did not happen due to a boulder blocking the mountain road to Oukaimden, and a six hour hike straight up the mountain for 1 run hardly seemed worth it!
“Hi, sorry, are you girls going snowboarding? I mean…I think you might be on the wrong flight?” This was our new friend and tandem paragliding instructor, Toby.
He told us about his paragliding company, Passion Paragliding and invited us to go with him as models for his new tandem tours. It would be mad not to go right? Yes, so we swapped phone numbers while on the plane and arranged for him to pick us up in a few days in the centre of a very busy and loud Marrakech for a day of jumping off mountains.
Once at the top of Magic Mountain, it was clear where the name came from. Panoramic views rewarded the eye with endless miles of the Sahara Desert on one side and the imposing High Atlas on the other.
Sitting at the top of the mountain, we discovered that in July last year Toby set out from Sorica in Slovenia for a seven hour 168 kilometre out and return flight and now holds the world record for tandem flying. He also won the Sports Class and came second in the Serial Class of the British Paragliding Championships in 2009 – we were definitely in safe hands!
We had a quick lunch of the typically Moroccan bread-potato-egg-combo before I climbed into a rather fetching crimson flight suit and Toby plus parachute attached themselves to my back.
“Ready?”
“What now!?”
“Yep,”
“Oh um, OK…”
That was it, my cue to run as fast as I could off the side of the mountain. There was the obvious stomach lurch, the inevitable “oh s**t” and the closing of eyes and then…WOW.
I don’t want to use this cliche, but for the first time since I could shout “who’s that?” at anyone walking through the door as a toddler, I was speechless. The only thing I could say was “wow” over and over again.
We climbed to 1800 meters above sea level (about 400m above Magic Mountain) and swooped over Berber villages in the mountains that have no roads in or out and dipped up and down over air thermals.
Forty five minutes in I started to feel a bit queasy. No wait, more than queasy: “Toby, I’m feeling ill, I mean really ill.”
“Right, OK, try and hold it in and I’ll try and land like, now…”
Not so easy when you’re 300m above the landing spot. Unfortunately the world record holder wasn’t quick enough.
I bet none of you can say you’ve thrown up whilst hanging off a big pink parachute!
After my friend had a good go at flying over the desert, we headed back down the mountain to a small hostel, good food, Moroccan wine and amazing company under the Saharan sky.