 |
Flying with the condors |
Holding my gaze with its vivid green eyes, a huge condor
closed the gap between us. His outstretched wings seemed
endless, finishing in a graceful curve at the tips as
he flew towards me, head on. I suddenly felt incredibly
vulnerable, hanging beneath a fabric wing, 2000 feet
above a precipice with nothing but rocks and snow between
me.
It was a moment I had only dreamed of, to fly with the
biggest of all birds of prey, the Andean condor. I had
flown with vultures in the past and they had come close
to me, curious to investigate such a big and colourful
new ‘bird' in their domain, but they were tiny by comparison
with this fellow. I was eyeball to eyeball with a creature
whose wingspan measured ten feet, and I was unsure of
his intentions and increasingly nervous.
Entranced by the sight of a condor, I continued to fly
towards him when I suddenly realized the seriousness
of the situation. We had become so close that a collision
seemed imminent. By this time I was unable to move out
of his path as my paraglider was not nimble enough to
turn away and I had to hope that this bird had a sense
of self-preservation and would avoid me. At the last
minute, with a speed that belied his size, he furled
his wings and dropped past me in a black blur. As soon
as he had passed my feet, his wings snapped open once
more, and he swooped upwards, deftly turning back towards
me to have another look.
Looking over my shoulder, I watched him approach from
behind. The blaze of white across his back stood out
clearly against his glossy black wings. His gliding speed
was faster than mine and he rose above me, disappearing
from the view above my canopy. I watched his ghostly
shadow move silently over my wing, until he emerged once
again silhouetted against the sun. He peered down at
me and, having satisfied his curiosity, with an imperceptible
adjustment to the curve of his wings, he carved a graceful
arc in the air and was gone. As he disappeared across
the valley, embarking on his daily foraging expedition,
I was left alone once more in the vast Andean sky.
I had come a long way since 1979 when, as an unpromising
beginner, I had made my first faltering flights with
a hang glider. If anyone had told me that sixteen years
hence I would be suspended over a breathtaking precipice
under the watchful eye of an Andean condor, I would have
laughed in their face, because I have a real fear of
heights!
- Taken from the book ‘Flying with the Condors'
by Judy Leden
Judy Leden was born on the outskirts of London in 1959.
She started hang gliding at the age of 19. She gave up
studying her nursing degree to pursue her love of flying,
becoming a world champion three times and breaking numerous
records. |
