One, two, three steps, against the wind and toward the abyss: deploying your nylon "wings" that instantly fill out and running towards the abyss; then, you become a bird, maybe an eagle, perhaps a divine condor that dominates the sky and surveys the valleys of prodigal furrows, the torrent and riotous rivers, the reddish tiles that crown the adobe houses. You can see everything. The world is naked below your bird eyes.

Flying in circles. Feeling liberated, making twirls, playing with the wind; avoiding the clouds and escaping from the turbulences that can harm you... and you begin to descend and to wake up from a dream, the images become clearer: the furrows, the bed of the river, the reddish tiles grow. You are nor an eagle neither a condor any longer. Your nylon "wings" are already resting on land.

The experience of paragliding or hang gliding, becomes even more intense when the Andean skies are furrowed, because the unexpected turbulences and the intense thermas, take a test to the pilot, who will be forced to appeal to all his dexterity and know-how, to dominate the winds of the mountain range. And as well as claiming our dexterity, they reward us with fantastic and numerous flights.

An infinity of ideal places to fly. An infinity of alternatives to discover the singular prints of the Andean world: the golden dunes of the coastal deserts; the gulches, the deep canyons, the mountains, the rivers watering the highlands or, also, the exuberant vegetation of the Amazon