Kristina, my wife at the time, and I planned to join my old friend John to do what we see someone else like this paraglider doing here. From Poo Poo Point on West Tiger Mountain. Monday 20 August 2009.

John, picture left, my old whitewater kayaking buddy from the 1980s and 90s, instructing me what to do…and what not to do. At this time in our lives, my friend’s an active 65 years along, and I’m 50, merely halfway to 100. Feels somewhat strange to write these words and clean up old pictures salvaged from the fire some 15 years later.

First, however, we had to hike up to the top of Poo Poo Point on the short, steep Chirico Trail. It’s about 3.8 miles RT with some 1,760 feet of elevation gain. The first push up off from the flats is steep and well-designed. Here Kristina, only 41 years along in time, heads on up the trail. 

She’s only mildly amused, however, at my stupid, poot-poot-pootin’ up the mountain fart jokes. After all, Poo Poo Point got the name from the particular sound made by the big, loud whistle up in the long-gone logging communications tower to signify two logs were tethered together with cables and were now ready to tow down the mountain. Twas back in those long time ago logging and mining days, tho. Bet those loggers farted a lot, too! Hey, all that natural propellant’s supposed to make ya go faster! Poot! Poot! Poot!

We wanted to fly like this guy!

First, however, had to figure out how to correctly put this thing on and cinch it down. Foto by Kristina.

Whether its boats or flyers, John’s always been a meticulous, thorough, and daring instructor.

We can tell by looking around our little gig dominates the action here at Poo Poo Point.

The Raven

Learning how to dance. Above the trees. In the air. With birds, descendants of dinosaurs.

Kristina snaps this picture as John & I stand with our lines stretching back to the wing, or canopy, the somewhat parachute-like structure composed of numerous baffled cells that fill with air. There are brake lines and trim lines and much more. Today, however, I’m more of a rider, his passenger.

Pulling the wing up off the ground to get it aloft enough to run off the edge of the launch point.

Actions take practice as we await our turn to dash off the cliff.

Goofy excitement! LOL

Another tandem duo prepares to launch. John & I are in foto right looking like we’re in a weird, poofy, 2-person ball gown.

Final checks before we charge down the ramp-like hill to leap running off the cliff into the air.

Oh, man, we’re about to dance! Just after Kristina hands me the Nikon.

And we’re in the air! Zooming around Tiger Mountain & over the valleys below and alongside other paragliders, too.

Catching thermals and other currents in the air invisible to untrained eyes as we soar over the forest canopy. See the bug-shaped shadow on the treetops in the lower left corner of the foto? With the crescent-shaped shadow above? That’s us up in the air, woo HOO!

Reveled in the speed and precision at which John guided us. We blasted into the wind with childlike glee.

Scanning up and out the valley.

Looking down into the Issaquah Creek Valley.

John “Raven Dancer” Kraske in his element.

Loved being so high up in the air! At least on this day.

Rockin’ the wind! From the ground paragliders and their wings may look almost still, but, my goodness, we’re moving quite fast upon invisible currents of air coiling and rising between the hills and mountains here on either side of the valley.

Smooth flying, y’all! And…something I discovered while blowing up this image 15 years later: there is a strange, metallic object – a bit tiny here – in the lower left corner of the upper right quadrant of the foto. Just above a small cloud. What is it? Gonna go crop, crop, crop to blow it up and find out.

This is definitely not a rocket, meteor, comet, birds, clouds, and is clearly metallic and reflective. Is it a small airplane? Then where are the wings? A helicopter? Is the angle of tilt obscuring the rotors? But the rotors on even a small chopper would be visible, yes? Balloons? Pretty big for balloons, and that doesn’t make any sense here. Another faraway paraglider waaay up in the air? Hmn…don’t know. One thing I notice under a powerful magnifying lens is the air around the object appears shimmery, warped, like a field is disturbing whatever it is. My imagination goes to a UAP, Unidentified Anomalous Phenomena, operated by NHIs or a Non-Human Intelligence. Many people report discovering objects in fotos long after the fact and upon enlargement and cropping. I’ve encountered UFOs and other paranormal things and have studied those subjects for years, ever since a whole-family experience with a massive metal sphere back in the mid-late 1960s. Whatever it is may well have a mundane explanation, and for now I really don’t have any idea. What do any of you see here?

Staring up at our wing against the sky. Kristina awaits her turn back on the side of Tiger Mountain, so John asks me to choose between a rapid, spiral descent called a spiral dive or the Devil’s Spiral, or a slower, looping, swinging back’n’forth descent. Being an adrenalin junkie, I shout, “Devil’s spiral!” John laughed and we spun rapidly down like a tornado to land with a bump in the grassy field below. Had to grip tightly with both hands, so no pictures, y’all. Aye, the Devils’s Spiral Dive, woo HOO!

We land in the tall grass at the outer edge of the Landing Zone Field next to another paraglider. This field is also the trailhead of the Chirico Trail.

John & I gather up the tandem apparatus and pack away the canopy wing. He has to lug all this stuff back up the mountain to jump off again with Kristina to complete his wedding gift to us.

Another paraglider swoops in to land.

Here comes another!

Are they up there yet? I know it takes time to hike back up the mountain to the launchpad, set everything up including carefully untangling the lines & spreading out the canopy wing and getting properly buckled in, final checks, waiting for a turn, then running off the cliff to leap into the air.

Wonder if the paraglider up in the far, far upper left corner is John & Kristina. John’s wing is all white without stripes, but it’s hard to discern one or tandem from my position on the edge of the landing zone.

There are other tandem duos dancing in the sky, too.

This isn’t John with Kristina, however, per the green stripe across the wing. John’s all white.

Boom! Landed! The people under the shelter were from the local paraglider  organization.

Yes, they’re up there somewhere!

Yeah

There they are! My old paddling buddy with my then-wife! Surprised, tho, they’re coming in so early as if they’re cutting their flight short.

Here they come!

Swooping down past mountain trees…

Kristina’s in the blue helmet.

Boom! John & Kristina touch down in the Landing Field.

Happy Ravens, yes?

OK, why is Kristina looking a little sheepish?

Turns out my dear wife at the time vomited all over John as they flew around the mountains. Apparently Kristina got motion sickness and was unable to suppress the urge. Also apparently it was projectile-style and quite repetitive. Into the wind! Oh my! And it splattered all over gear and clothes. Oh shit! Kristina was very embarrassed. Who wouldn’t be? And very apologetic. John, however, was incredibly gracious, patient, and generous. Even amused. His response was a Master Class of sorts in how to react and respond to such a situation. They washed and wiped off most of it. Hey, we are biological organisms, a cellular integration of fluids, solids, and gases. Accidents happen. Life is messy! At least we lived to share amazing experiences of soaring over the forests below. Above at the Chirico Trailhead and Landing Zone off the Issaquah-Hobart Road south of Issaquah and east of Renton. We’re on the edge of the Tiger Mountain Complex, which is part of the Issaquah Alps, low mountains and big hills on the western slopes of the Cascades east of the Greater Seattle-Bellevue metropolis. Monday 30 August 2009.

Fifteen years later John’s still at it. Here he is 80 years young, about a month away from his 81st birthday, paragliding above the bluffs of Magnolia in Seattle over the edge of the Salish Sea. Foto taken by unknown observer for John who in turn shared it with me, Thursday 26 September 2024.

Here’s the jolly old devil! We’ve known each other for over 37 years now, ever since he helped me recover my lost then stolen whitewater kayak back in late spring/early summer of 1987. Magnolia Bluffs, Seattle, Thursday the 26th of September 2024. Foto gifted by John.