A few years ago, my best friend and I somehow found ourselves in Morocco. It wasn’t your average trip to say the least.
It started off like this in the airport: “excuse me girls, I hate to be rude. But, uh, are you going snowboarding? I mean, I think you might be getting on the wrong flight. This is heading to Africa, not Europe…” We explained, we talked, turns out he owns a paragliding company, Passion Paragliding, and invited us to hop along for a day of jumping off the High Atlas Mountains. Um, YES!
Toby picked us ip from Marrakech at midday a couple of days ago, we threw all our stuff int he back of his van and off we popped to a Berber village 40 minutes south of Marrakech.
After picking up water, wine, the paraglide and anything else we thought we might need (and after I played with his cat in his courtyard) we hopped back in the van and drove across winding desert roads to a small paragliding retreat at the edge of the Sahara and the bottom of Magic Mountain.
We dumped our stuff at the beautiful hostel and prepared ourselves for the hike up to the jumping point. The panoramic view, put simply, to die for.
Tegan was the first to take to the skies with Toby so I stayed on the ground taking endless amounts of photos and having endless conversations with other flyers and Chausette the dog.
Once Tegan landed we had some lunch and a ton of the famous Moroccan tea whilst sat against a white-washed wall. Yum.
I was next. Bright red flight suit, the works. It really was amazing. Really. I was lost for words apart from the occasional “wow” and “oh my GOD!”.
We were in the air for about 40 minutes, swooping over Berber villages without electricity or roads in or out. Toby explained how this was all possible, air thermos etc – although I think I was so high on adrenaline I didn’t really take it all in!
After landing it got absolutely freezing. Tegan and I snuggled up in hoodies, scarfs, gloves – everything while Toby had another flight with LoLo from France.
There was time for one more flight as the sun was setting gloriously in the High Atlas, so Tegan suited up and took off while an enthusiastic Frenchman and I drove down the mountain to be greeted by a feast of Moroccan food and wine.