...This all happened a while ago, you understand...

It was a beautiful summer's day and I'd not long been on the road to Czech. I'd visited only once before, but this time, it was to stay.

The sky was clear, the road was clear, my mind was clear.
Destination: More sun.
ETA: Whenever.

And it was pretty darned scenic as I pushed Burt through hundreds of miles of mountains, lakes, waterfalls, villages, palm trees and open highway. I'd been pushing myself, lately, too, having recently spent several hours at the top of the Shard, one of Europe's tallest buildings (72 floors, if I recall correctly), in an effort to face my fear of heights. That place was an unthinkable tower of terror, with its floor-to-roof glass and tiny open-top pinnacle. You can feel the building swaying in the high winds and see the stabilizers moving in response. Admittedly, the view was like nothing I'd ever seen, and something I will always remember, but standing at the edge took a lot of courage.

But that was then and this was now. On solid ground and not unhappy about it.

Things were about to change, though, and in the spirit of adventure, I was in for a surprise. My travel companion had arranged something even more challenging and I was unwittingly driving directly towards it with a chipper smile on my face.

Even as we pulled up into the car park at the bottom of the mountain, I hadn't suspected I'd spend the next 10 minutes ascending it in a cable car. When we reached the top, we were met by two men who took us to the very highest point to look down over Lake Como. It was stunning, of course, but again, my nerves were jangling. Naturally, I'd figured it out by that point, and I'd made peace with it by the time I saw the lake. If I'd bottled it there, I'd never have forgiven myself.

As I slid into what appeared to be a flimsy backpack and buckled the plastic clip that would apparently be responsible for my life, I just accepted that this could be it. We had a quick chat as we put our crash helmets on (cos that's gonna do a lot), and that was basic training.

"Three, two, one, start running!"

I ran.

As fast as I could, I ran. Like the wind, I ran. Straight forward and right off the top of the mountain. The wind grabbed us immediately, dragging us up and over the tall pine trees, over the cable cars and people, over the houses and roads, and up into the sky. In 20 seconds, we reached 1000 meters and the town below was as small as a drawing.

"That little line of rocks is a canyon... That little square is where they have the film festival..." My flight instructor went on as I came to discover a comfort I had never expected up in the sky, so far beyond my fears. When you reach a certain point, the drop below is so huge, there would be no chance of surviving it, but the objects are so small, they don't seem real, and you barely feel the distance at all.

From up there, the only sounds were wind, the still-increasing pitch of our altimeter, and the casual chat of the flight instructor, pointing out landmarks as we flew over them at a hundred miles an hour. And I felt completely free. Calm and happy in the moment. There was only peace and excitement that co-mingled in a new way. And I realized this could be a thing.

Another glider appeared in the distance, and a few seconds later, shot by beneath us and disappeared again. The speed was crazy and it only showed itself at the last moment. And then another, straight over the top, this time. And yet more. Five or six in the next few minutes went past as increasing speed and altitude. Some seemed to change direction suddenly, causing them to lean at worrying angles. Then I looked up to see the parachute that held our weight - a paper-thin, chirpy little sheet in bright green or yellow or both. What we were doing was mad.

For forty-five minutes, the madness continued, until we came to the delta, where we began descending towards the yachts. And then my instructor offered me an air stunt. What could I say? No? Impossible! Bring it on! I was all in and I was going to squeeze every last drop of adrenaline out of this adventure. Heck, it might be the last time I fly in a while and I need stories to tell!

But then he started rolling the glider left and right in preparation for the stunt, and everything changed. My belly turned inside out and my lunch wanted to come back for a bit of afternoon art class. "All out! All out!" We skipped the stunt and made a text book landing on a reedy island next to the lake, having flown between the countries, peaking at well over a kilometer above the ground, hopping on and off rising thermals and picking up speeds I wouldn't do on the u-bahn. And then, all-too-soon, it was over. I watched the pillow case fall down behind us as my legs began to wake up and my mind was more alive than ever.

What a wonderful way to say goodbye to a fear.

View from the 72nd floor.

Hanging from a washing line in a small caravan.

Following strangers with suspicious bags.

Opening up the ironing board cover.

Flying in a backpack.