Mount Kerimasi offers an exhilarating paragliding experience with a takeoff altitude of 2530 meters and a height difference of approximately 1500 meters. The main takeoff direction is East, making it ideal for catching the morning thermals. In the Massai village of Gelai Bomba, our large backpacks caused quite a stir. Rumors spread that we, three foreigners, were searching for a treasure buried by our ancestors on Mount Kerimasi. The locals speculated that our oversized luggage contained tools for its retrieval under the cover of night, as it was known we planned to bivouac on the summit. Our actual goal was equally unusual: attempting the first paragliding jump from Mount Kerimasi with my friends Andreas Egger and Michael Gebert. The village chatter led to a summons by the village leaders, who, instead of traditional Massai attire, wore suits and gold wristwatches. Mudy, a student from Dar es Salaam visiting his family, acted as our translator. The leaders' questions were vague and disjointed, avoiding eye contact. It soon became clear they hoped to gain some wealth from us. However, the land around Gelai Bomba is free, and we did not entertain any demands, especially not a suddenly imposed 'security fee.' Mudy was a fortunate ally, standing firm with us. It took a few days to organize a functional Jeep for transport to Mount Kerimasi. The owner, a tall Massai, couldn't drive himself and sat in the passenger seat with his scepter-like hardwood staff, the Eng'udi, giving his driver hair-raising route instructions with childlike glee. The Jeep's bald tires soon swam through the untouched dust of the steppe until we reached the gently sloping volcanic flanks of the mountain's base. The mountain's height isn't marked on any map, but we estimated it to be around 3000 meters. As the Jeep departed, disappearing into the shimmering air, the only signs of civilization were three distant mud huts, now empty as the Massai had moved with their cattle to water sources during the dry season. We wrapped old T-shirts into turbans to protect against the scorching sun and began our ascent on Mount Kerimasi's lava rock. Bushes, thorny plants, and skeletal trees with needle-sharp branches lined the mountain's ridges. We followed animal trails, often finding flattened grass patches—signs of large wildlife retreating to the fertile highlands during the dry season. I recalled the Massai's words about a Simba, a dangerous lion, retreating to the deep bush of craters and mountains for hunting and resting. We found its traces everywhere: shredded bark on trees and deep claw marks in the hard core wood. Halfway to the summit, thunderclouds darkened the sky, heralding the rainy season. Wind gusts brought a few drops that evaporated on our skin like on hot stone. We quickly set up an emergency bivouac using a paraglider, stretching the sail tightly over our heads, and watched the natural spectacle in the plain: a kilometer-high red wall of powder-fine steppe dust swept across the land. The air smelled damp and musty, and red rain fell on the paraglider sail. We had to wait, though time for the summit attempt was running short. Racing against the encroaching darkness, we hurried through increasingly dense bush. Six fully grown cheetahs slinked through the grass ahead of us, observing us calmly with wary, skeptical eyes before circling around and moving on. In the dark, we reached the wooded crater rim of Mount Kerimasi. The grass was dripping wet in the fog, and gusty winds still hinted at the subsiding thunderstorms. On a clearing, we spread out a paraglider as a sleeping mat, using another as a blanket. To signal our presence to the wildlife, I fixed a headlamp in the bushes, hoping its batteries would last the night. Sleep eluded me in this exposed setting. The paraglider fabric whipped in the wind, and the weak light of the headlamp seemed lost in the mist, a feeble attempt at human assertion. Bright moonlight soon pulled me from my half-sleep. A fantastic starry sky had opened up, and the cold, pale trees cast nocturnal shadows. In the distance, a bushfire colored the sky red. Fanned by thunderstorm winds, the flames hungrily devoured the land. The headlamp burned steadily and weakly like another star. The night wouldn't be long, as the flight required an early start. Intense sunlight in the plain caused very strong thermal winds with significant turbulence by mid-morning. In flight, this would be less dangerous, as there is enough altitude to correct a collapsed paraglider. The risk lay in the landing: proximity to the ground is the enemy of the flyer. As the sun rose on the horizon, we feverishly searched for a takeoff spot in the bush on the crater rim's east flank. We speculated on the first thermal updrafts caused by the morning sun. We needed this headwind to lift the sail more easily and quickly over the dense vegetation during takeoff. About 50 meters below the crater, a steep clearing with waist-high grass presented itself. It lay above a gully that could also channel the side wind favorably. We hurried. The first sun rays were already causing warm air bubbles to rise. We felt some as headwinds, while others condensed into cloud banks below us. Fog and poor visibility threatened, so we didn't wait. A strong thermal filled the cells. We used the phase to lift the dew-drenched sails. Some greenery got caught in the dripping lines, but the cells were filled, and the profiles stood firm in the wind. After two bold strides through the bush, we took off. Now Simba could come, we joked, baring our teeth at his three-course meal that flew away before his eyes like flying roast chickens! At seven in the morning, the air felt calm on the control lines. Time to enjoy. The bird's-eye view was ours alone, as there was no air traffic in this area. The seemingly structureless steppe revealed the surreal, fantastic shapes of a lunar landscape. Pitch-black craters opened their round mouths, and volcanic cones of all sizes jutted from the earth. The steppe looked like a sea, swallowing some cones and washing around others. We glided over the plain until we encountered shear winds with significant turbulence at 300 meters above ground. The winds rubbed against each other, turning the flight into a rodeo. The phenomenon followed no alpine rules. Near the ground, our usually up to 40 km/h fast paragliders stood still against the wind. Then we drifted along a dried-up riverbed that led into a crater like a dead vein. There stood a lone tree that could provide us some shade on the ground. During the landing, we descended vertically like in an elevator, then softly touched down on the dust. Half a day passed in scorching heat. We lay motionless in the weak shade of skeletal branches, waiting for Mudy. Our friend was reliable. The dust trail of a Jeep appeared in the steppe. Mudy's eyes shone with joy as he got out. "You'll regain your strength in the village," he said, today was slaughter day. The Massai medicine, a soup made from cartilage and tree bark, was already cooking in the pots. It was also "good for big birds," Mudy assured us. For more information, visit [Paragliding Forum](http://www.paraglidingforum.com/leonardo/flight/392654) and [Spiegel's Paragliding Adventure in Tanzania](http://www.spiegel.de/reise/fernweh/gleitschirm-abenteuer-in-tansania-sprung-vom-kraterrand-a-793685.html). You can also view a photo gallery of the experience [here](http://www.spiegel.de/fotostrecke/tansania-per-gleitschirm-ueber-die-mondlandschaft-fotostrecke-74353.html).
View spotThe Usambara Ridge in Tanzania offers a take-off point at approximately 1430 meters. This site is occasionally used but holds potential for good cross-country (XC) flights. The site record for the longest flight is 104.9 km. For more detailed information, you can visit the ParaglidingEarth website.
View spotAt an altitude of approximately 2315 meters, this location offers a unique paragliding experience. Only one flight has been logged here, and it was a short one. Comment from a pilot: "My first flight in Africa! This is awesome! I spent three weeks in Tanzania visiting my sister in Mbeya. Google Earth suggested promising flight conditions, so I brought my glider along. Despite it being the start of the rainy season, which isn't ideal for flying, I was determined to find a suitable launch site. I explored the area on a motorbike, known locally as a Piki Piki. It was already quite a spectacle for the locals to see a foreigner (Msungu) on a Piki Piki, but flying was an entirely different level of excitement! The day finally came for my flight. My sister and I were both thrilled as she drove me to the launch site. At the landing spot, Alex, Simon, and their children William and Hugh were waiting. I had attempted to fly earlier that week, but the weather conditions weren't favorable. I owe a big thanks to everyone who helped make this flight possible! When I finally took off, the air was smooth and perfect. Although the wind conditions allowed me to soar along the ridge, I chose not to stay up too long since it was my first flight in Africa. After a few minutes, I landed on a soccer field near Uyole. Initially, the field was empty, but within minutes, hundreds of excited locals gathered around. They were amazed to see a foreigner who had flown from the mountain and landed in their field. It was quite a challenge to pack up my gear and reach Alex, Simon, William, and Hugh amidst the crowd. Eventually, we managed to get to the car and leave the field, followed by the enthusiastic crowd. What an exhilarating experience! Wow!"
View spotThe take-off point is located at an elevation of 2,429 meters, behind the antenna facing east at the highest point of the Chunya road. There is ample space available for parking your car. Coordinates for take-off: S 08.83103 / E 033.54181.
View spot