“I turn west and push out towards the ocean. My glider bobs in and out of a wispy cloud, placing me over flat sand in no time. I’m way up there. I pull strings, go fast, draw shapes in the sky. I’ve got altitude in the bank, so I make it rain. I head back to the hill, dizzy and smiling. Then, back to the top in eight minutes; I repeat the cycle. It is official; I’ve made it to mecca.”
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HANG GLIDING & PARAGLIDING MAGAZINE