Pokhara Lake – Part 1: First Flight

A paragliding pilot and a nervous first flight.

---

Pokhara wakes slowly. Mist lifts off Phewa Lake in soft white curls, and the first light touches the snow peaks of the Annapurna range one by one, turning them from grey to rose to gold. Fishing boats drift out from the shore. A bell rings from a temple across the water.

Sita had been awake since five, sitting on the stone steps of her guesthouse with a cup of milky tea going cold in her hands.

She was here to fly. That was the whole plan. She had booked the flight three weeks ago, in a rush of courage that had felt wonderful at the time, and every day since then the courage had leaked away a little more.

She had been afraid of heights since she was a child, when her older brother had dared her to climb the mango tree behind their house and she had frozen halfway up, unable to move for an hour while the whole family shouted instructions from below.

"You look like you're going to be sick," said a voice behind her.

She turned. A man was coming down the path from the road, a helmet hooked over one arm and a faded red jacket over his shoulder. He was tall, with sun-darkened skin, a short beard and calm grey eyes that crinkled at the corners when he smiled.

"I'm not sick," Sita said. "I'm just deciding whether to run away."

"Good. Most people decide to run away after they've already got into the harness." He held out his hand. "Aarav. I'm your pilot, if you're brave enough to trust me."

"I'm Sita. And I'm not brave at all."

"That's fine. Neither was I, the first time. I threw up in the field and my instructor pretended not to notice." He grinned. "Come on. The wind is perfect this morning, and the lake looks like a mirror."

The launch site was a grassy slope above the town, dotted with other pilots preparing their wings. The canopy lay spread out on the grass like a great bright sail, and Aarav walked her through the harness straps with quick, practised hands, tightening each buckle and checking it twice.

"You'll run," he said. "Three steps, four at most, and then you won't need to run anymore. The wing will lift you. Your job is to keep your legs free and your eyes on the horizon. Don't look down until you're ready."

"What if I'm not ready?"

"Then we wait." He met her eyes steadily. "I'm not going to take you up if you're frightened of the wrong thing. You can be frightened. Just don't let it make your decisions."

Something in her chest eased, just a little.

"Okay," she said. "I'm ready."

"Good," said Aarav. He stepped close behind her, his hands resting lightly on the straps at her shoulders, and his voice dropped low. "On three. One. Two."

---

Next: Part 2, Above the Lake. The wind, the water, and a conversation over the clouds that changes how Sita sees the sky.