Cosmic Dive 08: Spain Part Two

A lesson in riding the wind

We’re halfway up Mount Calamorro when the cable car stops. Swaying slowly back and forth, my stomach flips. I’ve never been the best at handling heights, though I do appreciate the bird’s eye view.

The “Teleférico Benalmádena” is a cable car ride to the top of the mountain offering stunning panoramic views of the Malàga coastline.

My five year old daughter Zazie is at peak excitement. She keeps wiggling around to see out the different windows, making us swing more. I don’t want to rain on her parade, but there is clearly a sign that says do not wiggle. She borrows my phone to film time lapses “just like Dad”.

The cable car swings back into action with a lurch. My stomach flips again.

The top of Mount Calamorro is the highest point in Benalmádena. About 780m. We’re on our way to see the famous Birds of Prey show. It is a clear, sunny day with little wind. An anomaly, I’m told. We get to the top and hop out. Ten minutes til the show.

I’m into falconry. It’s a thousand year old tradition and this show features a flying display. It’s not just staring at giant birds in cages. These birds of prey actually fly.

My daughter chooses the very front row. The falconer, fluent in Spanish and English, warns us that we’re in a hot spot. The birds will be flying directly over our heads. That only excites my daughter more. She is absolutely fearless.

First, an Eagle Owl comes sweeping a few meters from us, landing on the outstretched arm of the falconer. It is huge and fluffy with beautiful, round saucer-like eyes. Next a couple of Caracaras land, screeching. A black vulture hops through the audience, diligently following its trainer for scraps. The show is so interactive, the vulture actually hops over my brothers arm as he sits in the audience. He’s sprayed with flecks of meat from the trainers palm. Disgusting… and cool.

Photos by Kal Panchal

The show-stealers are the Eurasian Griffon Vulture, the Common Buzzard, the Harris Hawk and the American Bald Eagle. The Griffon Vulture (not pictured) is massive, with a long white neck and curled bill. It takes off immediately, circling high over the mountain top. The Common Buzzard (such a sad name for such a spectacular bird) takes flight in the opposite direction. The sound of their huge wings flapping makes everyone in the audience hunch down. The falconer explains today is an exceptional day for flying, and he will let them stretch their wings for awhile.

The birds circle higher and higher above us. We squint into the blinding light. The birds disappear into the sun. Zazie loses all interest and begins squirming around on the bench.

“I’m hooooot.”She begins to complain loudly.

“I’m hungry.” She whines. “This is booooring.”

“Don’t be rude.” I reprimand her in an annoyed, hushed mom-tone. I look up at the sky and see nothing but brilliant blue. Time stretches on. The falconer calls to the birds, but they don’t return. He explains they don’t want to come back. It’s nesting season and local birds are deterring them He points out how they barely need to beat their wings. At a 1000m high, they glide effortlessly. They can fly for hours this way, barely exerting energy, riding the wind.

I love the idea of riding the wind. It’s something that does not come naturally to me, or at least, not up to this point. I think about how hard I’ve pushed in my life. How hard I push those around me. How hard I push myself.

A friend shared this quote with me and I couldn’t get it out of my head:

Perhaps this next chapter has more to do with seeing the magic all around you and staying open to it, rather than working harder and pushing more.

The griffon and buzzard finally come hurtling back to the falconer. Zazie is immediately back into it as soon as their talons hit the ground.

The experience of seeing them circle effortlessly is a world schooling lesson for me. So much of my approach to this year has been to embrace a slower flow. Not having to rush out the door in the morning frees my family to set our own pace and rhythm, but I find myself struggling with sticking to routine. My own inner forces fight against it. I’ve struggled to juggle working part-time and homeschooling, and the excitement of travelling to different places in the world, while inspiring and an incredible privilege, has been exhausting in its own right.

In the second half of our Spain trip, we all succumbed to fatigue and illness. Traveller’s bugs are common and with so many family members staying in such close quarters, it was pretty inevitable that if one of us went down, we’d all go down. Zazie was acutely ill with a stomach flu for 24 hours, but the fatigue and lingering whiney disposition stayed for days. I held it off for as long as I could, but the night before we were scheduled to fly home, I fell victim with a vengeance.

I can tell you with absolute confidence, there is nothing worse than having a stomach bug on a packed Boeing 737 crossing the Atlantic for eight hours. I took several gravol and passed out.

My husband (who never, ever gets sick, knock on wood), picked up all the slack. At the end of the flight, a woman who had been seated across the aisle leaned over and said, “Your husband is just wonderful with her.” I smiled, nodding, bleary-eyed and green.

Adventuring on your own is one thing, but gliding effortlessly is easier with two. Without Kal, that flight would have been nearly unmanageable for me.

We’ve been home for a few days and we’re still getting our feet under us. Still suffering from rough tummies and with work to catch up on, we’ve been watching too much Nat Geo (Arctic Ascent with Alex Honnold! Anyone? Anyone?) and eating very lightly. Rice, bananas, lightly stewed vegetable soups.

I’ve sat down and meal planned the next two weeks, in an effort to stem our bleeding bank accounts and get us back on track eating healthy, home-cooked meals. Our next world schooling trip isn’t for two weeks. We’re heading to a friend’s farm in Tennessee where we’ll focus on the art of arboriculture, #barnlife, southern hospitality and the ease that comes of time spent with old friends. For now, it’s time to focus on spring planting, biodynamic preparations, my new favourite book on permaculture, and the re-birth that comes with the arrival of Spring.

If you google “riding the wind”, the internet explains it’s a phrase sometimes attributed to incidents whereby we do something without a purpose. Just in the way that the wind is able to change its direction at any time without warning, someone who is riding like the wind has the power to change their life's course without any reason, rhyme, or warning either.

I can’t shake the feeling that big changes are coming, and the ability to shift course without warning seems like one of the greatest lessons I can both learn and teach.