Soaring over India

The Umbrella People, that's what they call us. John, my paragliding buddy, and I are just finishing lunch at Manoor's, and the food is better than it sounds. Outside the dingy truck stop, local farmers with light-brown eyes and impressive moustaches have gathered in clusters of threes and fours, murmuring and speculating about the huge, colourful backpacks piled high just outside the door. Sanjay, our host shrugs it off, used to it all. "They want to see us do what ordinary mortals cannot do - fly with the eagles."

Paragliding in India is still a novelty. A hugely popular one; and growing by the month. European paragliding pilots have been coming to the Indian Himalayas for years to fly the fabled rollercoaster thermals there. But the conditions among the mountains demand skill and experience. Unscrupulous and inexperienced paragliding operators are springing up like mushrooms after the monsoon rains to take advantage of the current tourist interest in paragliding. It is a strangely unlicensed sport here. Already, there have been fatalities.

In Central India's Maharashtra state, it's a different story entirely. Three hours inland from Mumbai and up through the Western Ghats lies a vast, dusty plain covered with craggy brown weather-beaten hills that look like the bones of the earth. If you cover your good eye and squint, it looks alot like the great African plains, complete with acacia trees, mud huts and bullock carts.

The hot, stable wind that rakes across the semi-arid land, combined with natural thermal activity, makes this place ideal for pilots of all skill levels. Sanjay's outfit, Nirvana, is the main paragliding school and hostelry in the entire state, with Sanjay claiming to be the only full-time PG instructor in India.

Nirvana is based outside of Kamshet, a truck-stop on the highway from Mumbai to Pune, and is crumpled and dirty like an old shirt. Rising high above the town is Tower Hill, the highest peak around. Standing at 1,300ft above town and boomerang-shaped, it is the ideal flying site: it faces into the wind and scoops it upwards, promising pilots hours of air-time.

Sanjay has a road-weary 2WD for all your 4WD needs, and slowly grinds us up the hill. From where the road ends, it's a pleasant short hike to the actual launch site.

John and I collapse into our harnesses, swig away at our water-bags and silently try to take in the spectacular view. The sunburned hills and valleys stretch away into the vastness of central India, the bent horizon a soft line of yellow dust.