Parasailing: Amazing Ride in the Sky Until ... Oops
 David Stabler - The Oregonian
go to original
August 23, 2010
| | Juanillos Parachutes operates daily in front of El Dorado Restaurant on Playa Los Muertos, one of the most popular beaches in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. Ask for Andres. (video by PromoVision) | |
If you are looking for high-flying thrills, panoramic views and pure excitement on your Puerto Vallarta vacation, one of the most amazing things to do is parasailing.
Puerto Vallarta - So this is what Icarus felt like before things went bad.
Buoyed on air currents, I'm flying a mile high, or maybe just 100 yards, above the ocean. It's hard to tell. Everything looks so small.
It's hot up here under the Mexican sun. Icarus wouldn't have lasted five minutes. A rope attached to a speedboat pulls me through the air. I don't particularly like heights, but sitting in a sling under a parachute, legs dangling, while the world glides by feels OK.
Actually, parasailing is instant fun. One minute you're standing on the beach posing for pictures and waving at your loved ones who look up from their books to admire your bravery. The next, you're rising like a puppet on a string. No running, no jumping. Just one step, and up you go.
The thing they don't tell you is what happens if you don't pull the yellow strap.
I like beaches, but I can't sit around all day. When I see a woman my age strap in and sail aloft, I think, why not? Lots of people do it. I agree to pay $40 and receive my instructions: When I hear a whistle and see him waving a red flag, I should pull the yellow strap. This will turn me to land on the beach, right where I started.
At first, the boat pulls me straight into the sun. To the east, mountains rise behind the city of Puerto Vallarta. To the west, water. I look down the length of rope curving away like a cable on the Golden Gate Bridge. I see pelicans, palm trees, speck-people playing in the surf. Swimming pools sparkle. And there's the airport. I hope the planes see my rope.
Slowly, I let go with my right hand, the one with the camera dangling from my wrist. Slower still, I let go with my left hand. Yokes, hooks, straps and clasps hold me in, so, I gingerly take a picture. I take some more. I get into taking pictures. When am I going to be here again?
We turn and head back. I don't hear the whistle, and I forget to look for the flag. I learned later that the guy on the beach was frantically waving and blowing his whistle, causing heads to look up. I'm oblivious.
At some point, I see the commotion and remember the yellow strap, but it's too late. Instead of landing on the beach, I drop like Icarus into the surf. Waves knock me over, and the chute pulls me this way and that. The instructor sprints over and unsnaggles me, but the chute is a wet, sandy mess.
I'm laughing, but they're not. He doesn't yell at me, exactly, but he's exasperated. "Didn't you see me waving?"
For several minutes, they stagger around as they try to yank the chute out of the waves. Just when they clear it, the undertow drags it back. Finally, they haul it onto the beach, like a whale. They spend a long time washing the sand out and untangling the lines. I feel bad and tip them extra.
The next day, they're back on the beach, approaching potential customers. When they see me, they smile and make a wide detour.
I flunked parasailing. |
Vallarta Weddings
Travel & Outdoors 
Tell a Friend
Site Map
Print this Page
Email Us