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I have always had a fascina- tion with birds and admired flight. I was ready
to have a new life experience, and the marriage of the two coalesced along
the bright sands of the Golden Zone shoreline on a bright warm Sunday morning.
I was about to go parasailing. A short stroll along the beach led me to
the point where I had observed a blue and white parachute take off and land.
The operator stepped forward and after a brief discussion, we settled on
a price of 250 pesos for the flight. Basic instruction followed about what
was to occur and what I was supposed to do. The gear, elegant and simple,
was demonstrated to me along with their functions. I was going to imitate
a bird. Behind me lay the parachute unfurled on the sand. I recall thinking
what a marvel such a small canopy of fabric was to become with a bit of
breeze to buoy it. Twenty-four lines in bundles of six connected my harness
to the chute and that harness clipped onto the tow rope. Before me on the
sand, a hundred meters or so of tow rope snaked out through the surf to
the tow boat idling offshore. I watched and waited as the line slowly grew
taut. I took two or three steps into the wind and felt the weight transfer
from the soles of my feet to my bottom. I was airborne. We were traveling
upwind at takeoff but now began a slow arching turn to the south. I remained
at a steady height behind the towboat as we headed out for Deer Island.
Beneath me I could discern the waves of the Pacific merging with those of
the towboat when suddenly something in the sea caught my eye. It was unmistakably
a ray or skate silhouetted against the green of the sea. A pelican started
in mid flight as it encountered the tow rope and wheeled off to my right
then disappeared behind me. Another parasail rider approached and we waved
to one another. This was beginning to grow on me. As we came up even with
Deer Island and turned back into the wind I felt the chute |
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pull on my harness
and the cords thrum a bit. I was gaining altitude. On my right now, the
horizon crested the high-rise hotels of the beach. The Sierras glowed blue
in the distance and I realized I was looking clear across the entire peninsula
where Mazatlán was situated. The bright line of beach of Stone Island, itself
actually a long peninsula, jumped into view to the south. On my left now
the vast mysterious expanse of the open Pacific disappeared into the haze
beneath me, unbroken, for thousands of miles. All along the Avenida del
Mar, I could make out spectators arriving in positions to witness the first
of the Carnival parades later that day. My reverie was broken by the realization
that I should now be looking for someone on the ground at my departure point
to be signaling me to pull on the right hand lines to properly set up for
the landing. I squinted into the glare of the far off beach and saw him.
As instructed, I pulled on the lines and felt the chute veer to the right
as it was supposed to. I could see the wake of the towboat decrease as he
slowed for my descent and pulled closer to shore. Nevertheless, I slowed
and turned into the wind again as I maneuvered for touchdown. The sweep
of spent surf and dark sand slowly rose to meet me or at least that is how
it felt. In seconds there were two men beneath me to catch me if necessary.
I touched down like a feather and felt the tension disappear from the lines.
A quick unclick and I was free from the chute walking back to drier ground.
If you wish to spend your own version of ten minutes flying with the pelicans,
there are numerous operators along the beaches of the Zona Dorada in Mazatlán.
They are meticulously thorough in preparing you for the experience. Most
speak English and are there to make sure your experience is an enjoyable
one. One thing I know for sure is that small flight into the bright blue
skies along the Pacific shoreline cemented all the elemental yearnings I
imagined for this place. I’d go again in a Mazatlán minute. |
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