In August, a coworker of mine arranged a paragliding trip. One lovely Saturday, about a dozen of us drove to the Alps at Garmisch, strapped ourselves to a group of gangly gung-ho Germans, who set out big pieces of cloth with strings attached, and jumped off a mountain.

Okay, really these were tandem jumps, each with an experienced instructor who gave orders such as "run!" at the necessary moments. (Actually, that's the only order. "Run!" both on take off and landing.)

BH

Former Brown fencer watches paragliding.

 BH

The jump site was near the Zugspitze, tallest peak in the Bavarian Alps. We didn't jump off the big pointy mountain in the middle, though, but rather off the smaller forested one to the left.

MK

The view from the top. One of the instructors sets up the paraglider.

MK

Setting up.

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And jump!

MK

Photo of a coworker with my paraglider peeking out at the top.

BH

Ben and his instructor, midflight.

 BH

Margaret, preparing to land.

BH

A coworker, on entry.

BH

It makes you grin. You can't stop for a long time.