How paragliders work
A paraglider is a lightweight, foot-launched wing made of ripstop nylon and high-strength lines. Unlike parachutes, which are built and sized to descend quickly, paragliders are designed to glide forward efficiently—and gain altitude when conditions are right. Pilots sit in a harness suspended below the wing and steer by pulling on brake lines, subtly shifting their weight to carve smooth turns through the air. To climb higher, we rely on thermals: invisible columns of warm air that rise from the ground, much like steam from a kettle.
As the sun heats darker patches of ground—rocky outcrops, clearcuts, or roads—the warm air bubbles upward. As the air in the thermal rises, it eventually cools and condenses, thus forming a cumulus cloud. Paraglider pilots constantly seek the next cumulus to find the next source of lift, because thermals, and the lift they provide, are the lifeblood of our flights. Unless we are going up in a thermal, we are descending quickly and will be on the ground within minutes.
Paragliding flights can last from five minutes to many hours in the sky chasing thermals. It’s akin to playing a game of 3D chess with nature while enjoying incredible views. Below you, it’s a mosaic of forest and clearcuts, broken by lakes that shimmer in the sun. Out to the west, the Comox Glacier looms, massive and seemingly so close.
Local launch sites and challenges
We have a handful of local flying sites to choose from, depending on the wind direction and strength: Forbidden Plateau, Boston Ridge above Comox Lake, and the Comox Bluffs, where we can ridge soar when the wind is just right. Venture a little farther, and you’ll find us launching off Alexandra Peak near Buttle Lake or heading to Mount Kitchener north of Campbell River.
But flying here isn’t easy. Access to launch sites is a constant battle. Forestry gates, private land, and complicated permissions mean that getting to the right spot sometimes takes as much effort as the flight itself. It’s a sharp contrast to Europe, where countries, towns, and ski resorts embrace paragliding, or even Revelstoke, where pilots are welcomed with open arms by the ski hill. Meanwhile, our own beloved Mount Washington Resort remains off-limits—a missed chance for what could be an incredible site and an addictive experience to the local mountain culture.
It’s not just getting to launch that’s tricky. The Comox Valley isn’t beginner friendly. Our takeoffs are often rocky scrambles, and our landings—well, they’re usually on old logging clearcuts or the beaches around Comox Lake. None of us learned to fly here. Every local pilot first cut their teeth elsewhere before taking on the rugged and beautiful playground of Vancouver Island.
LEFT: PHOTO BY MATT TRIGG. RIGHT: PHOTO BY BASTIAN FLEURY
A small but dedicated paragliding community
Still, despite the hurdles, a small but passionate crew of about 15 pilots keeps the spirit of flight alive here. We’re a tight bunch, joined by visiting friends from the South Island whenever conditions are good. On a sunny day, you’ll spot a few colourful wings turning slow circles in the sky.
And since this is truly frontier flying, we’re just scratching the surface of what is possible. Our Vancouver Island Club leader recently flew from the Cowichan Valley to Port Alberni and almost connected onto the Beaufort Range on his flight, which could have seen him fly to Cumberland. For those of us with an appetite for adventure, we are in the early stages of exploring the local free-flight potential.
Why we keep paragliding
Mainly, we fly because nothing else can compare. Because flying like a bird truly is one of humankind’s oldest dreams. Because there’s no better reward than seeing the glacier blush pink in the last light of day. Because, up there, you are truly in the moment. What’s left is pure, joyous flight.
Flying in the Comox Valley isn’t polished or easy. It’s messy, stubborn, and sometimes exhausting. But it’s also beautiful beyond words. It reminds you that the best things in life are the ones you work hardest for—and when the thermals are strong and the valley spreads out beneath you, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.
