We emerge into the open, where we can breathe deeply! Every time I'm in the mountains, I'm amazed at how, step by step, laboriously but largely unnoticeably, we climb higher and higher until we find ourselves in the clouds. Just a moment ago, we were looking up, feeling a little uneasy about the upcoming climb, and then suddenly the houses and trees are tiny, and people are nowhere to be seen.
(The photo shows the center of Bira from a paraglider)
There are clouds all around, and a wonderful panorama of the surrounding area opens up in the haze.
The vegetation is changing, there is no longer that riot of greenery.
There were bushes with some kind of berries lying on the ground under my feet. I didn't try them.
We climb the path higher and higher.
Houses are perched on the slopes. Stepped fields surround them. How much hard work does it take to cultivate such rocky "six hundred square meters"?
An old, battered sign. I wonder what it says?
We meet a buffalo on the way. He stops chewing his cud and watches us with a heavy gaze.
The slope is very steep, the clouds rise and soon surround us.
Work is in full swing at the paragliding spot above. Women work equally, and often more, than the men.
My long-suffering hiking Garmin shows a climb of about a kilometer (the start was somewhere around 1460). Normal for a first day.
The ram "gave life" to everyone at the spot. First, he chased the Indians, then the Indians chased him, then he came up and started chewing on a "wing." We had to join in the chase.
Eventually he calmed down and began to simply nibble on grass.
Ksyu prepares her "wing" for flight, cleaning her feathers.
It became chilly outside, so I went for some tea.
The shop where I drink tea is built on a slope and you can feel it.
It was on the way back that I saw a Himalayan goat. It looked at me with a strange horizontal pupil, and at that moment my acclimatization was successfully completed—I finally believed I was in India, far, far away from bustling Moscow, with almost two weeks of adventure ahead. Usually, that takes longer.
It was as if a weight had been lifted from my soul, and I felt light and happy. I wanted to jump up and down and hug the goats. But I decided I needed to behave politely.
The pilots are waiting for a "window" to appear so they can at least see a little where they're flying.
Alex and I were strapped into harnesses and told to run as fast as we could when necessary. We'd be informed of this.
I tried once, then twice. Running in a harness is like running in a sack. The Indians started clapping and shouting, laughing, "Good run!"
(photo tender_glow)
Meanwhile, Oksana is adjusting the instruments.
You need to accurately position yourself in space and control a bunch of parameters to be sure of a successful landing.
Source: travel.ru