High Flyer

Ever fancied the idea of parachuting, but not the prospect of an asphalt enema (i.e. landing on your tush)?

Let's talk this over for a second. Anyone can fall, I've been told. It's the landing that decides everything: you can either walk away triumphantly or, well, you make a dirt-busting thump and someone is sent out to sweep up your remains into a dustpan.

And yet, the danger is the attraction. In any case, you're unwilling to sacrifice that coolness quotient that goes with such a devil-may-care sport like parachuting - unless of course, you stumble upon a very attractive alternative, like I did:

Chinese fortune-teller (overseas educated): I see a swirling cloud of dust, old chap, a small crater, and a tattered parachute wilting over your remains as the kampung kids come running to gape giddily at the grotesque scene.
Me (Oversea Restaurant educated): Yah ka, O Great Orifice, eh, Oracle…So how? This one ah, 'parrot-shooting' ah, soun too - how to say - painful, maaah…! Oso, Gucci dowan scuff, one.

Chinese fortune-teller: In that case, allow me to suggest a slightly safer alternative with the same adrenaline-gushing sensation of drifting aimlessly through the clouds, destination unknown…
Me: …No, no, oso dowan fry MAS. Stewardess oney smile at qwailo, some more…
Chinese fortune-teller: Most certainly not, my good man! I was referring to motorised parachuting, otherwise known as powergliding. I see it featuring big among Malaysian hobbyists in the near future. Go forth and find out all you can about this new aerial passion…
Me: "Oh, like that one, ah. Nemind - mana makan dulu

Thus dispatched, I sought out a wise and wiry old ex-Armed Forces commando named Basir. Right now, he's the only person in Malaysia who's qualified to train on the powergliders, having been the first to import these motorised parachutes from France just nine years back.

I tracked him down at the Sungei Besi airfield one lazy sunny afternoon, minutes before he was about to launch into his aerial realm. I found him jumping about in a meadow, sharing his contagious enthusiasm with his newest students.

And during the next few hours, as the sky turned a hazy orange and the grass underfoot grew cool, Basir took the time between short flights to make sure that I, too, become smitten by this great - and safe - pastime.

What you've got is an extra wide, rectangular parachute with tapered tips that you can steer with little handles on either side of you, called toggles. The chute is fastened to a durable, collapsible harness with a soft seat built into it.

On the back of this harness, you've got a fairly light and surprisingly quiet 210cc engine with a propeller (you're kept safe from the prop by a wire-mesh 'shield'). Also, strapped to your hand is a squeezable throttle. The chute is carefully laid out behind you, so as you pull on the toggles, the chute jumps up into the breeze, you squeeze gently for power - and you're airborne.

As if to prove how easy this new way of flying really is, Basir assembled his rig in two minutes flat, slipped into it, turned to the gentle breeze and gently lifted his unfurled chute, ran maybe five steps, gave gas, and he was gone. That's it. The Wright brothers would turn in their graves…

Another key attraction here is that you can pack the entire rig into two bags and chuck them into the back of your car - and go anywhere: the beach, mountains, jungles; anywhere here in Bolehland where there are no restrictions (airports, some urban areas, and military installations are off limits).