A 30-minute experience that leaves spirits soaring

TORREY PINES, Calif. -- When you jog off the 300-foot cliff your heart does not leap out of your throat, as you had anticipated.

Rather, as the wind catches your wing and lifts you gently upward, you settle into a calm sort of dream state, a new dimension in which you hear nothing but wind rushing past your ears.

But you attain a bird’s perspective and see everything: towering thunderheads, lonely freighters, a verdant golf course and seaside mansions.

You note detail in the crusty white cliffs and, if you fly low enough, you can discern which of the bodies sprawled on the swimsuit-optional beach are clothed or unclothed.

Little do those people know there’s a pervert in the bushes atop the cliff, leering through binoculars.

You buzz this scoundrel -- whom the staff here dubs “our resident astronomer” -- and make known your disgust, then bank sharply away and continue your wondrous journey....

Such are the impressions one gets during even the shortest of paraglider flights from Torrey Pines Gliderport.

“It really is fabulous because you feel like you’re flying,” said Janet Seawell, whose 30-minute tandem excursion was a surprise 60th birthday present.

The facility, which opened in 1928, is one of a few remaining U.S. coastal locations serving the powerless flight community.

Because of prevailing westerlies and about five miles of cliffs facing squarely into the wind, flying is possible 300-plus days a year.

There is little turbulence and almost anyone willing to spend $150 -- there are no age restrictions and the paragliders accommodate persons weighing to about 300 pounds -- can enjoy a half-hour flight with an instructor.

Those with more zeal can learn to fly solo in about two weeks.

“There’s a saying that goes, ‘If you haven’t flown Torrey at least once in your life, you won’t go to heaven because it’s considered the Mecca of flying,’ ” says David Jebb, flight director for the past 12 years.

Paragliders, and to a shrinking extent hang-gliders, make the pilgrimage from all over the world. At one time among the staff alone ,13 languages were spoken.

Theirs is a close-knit society, bonded by a passion for lifting off and becoming bird-like. One man remained aloft for 14 hours.

With optimal wind at 10-15 mph, these paragliders can soar 1,500 feet above the cliffs and venture half a mile to sea.

They spot silhouettes of whales and the ominous forms of sharks. In the “magic air” of late afternoon they become buoyant and can literally float while watching the sun set the horizon aglow.

Carefree though this may seem, there is one nagging question about the future, which Jebb wrestles with daily:

Will this be the year the city of San Diego, which owns the property, decides it will close the site and sell to the highest bidder?

Given the astronomical appreciation value of seaside real estate, the gliderport’s existence grows more tenuous every year.

Jebb regularly attends city meetings to argue the importance of maintaining this unique open space for what it has become.

“It’s not a cash cow for them, but on the other hand there are thousands of people that come here from all over the world, not only to fly but to spectate and enjoy the restaurant,” says Jebb, whose family runs the concession and bluff-top eatery.

“In fact, on a given day it is not unusual to find more foreigners and out-of-towners flying here than locals.”

The site averages about 300,000 solo flights a year, Jebb says, and about 2,500 tandem flights. They are comfortable adventures -- picture yourself circling like hawks in a Lazy Boy recliner.

The only real danger passed four years ago when pilots of radio-controlled gliders -- some of which span 20-plus feet and zoom at 170 mph -- were required to obtain a national rating, with beginners restricted to much smaller, softer gliders.

But Jebb says that since he took over in 1996, the site has been “accident free” where it pertains to tourists.

Children as young as 5 have flown, and last spring a woman took to the heavens to commemorate her 93rd birthday.

A few times each year the gliderport hosts handicapped people, who become like anyone else once they leave the cliff.

“People who get high on drugs have absolutely no comprehension what high really is,” Jebb says. “This is high in its most purest state.”

But the wind must cooperate. It barely rippled the ocean as Seawell took flight with Ki Hong, a former world champion.

They traveled to the north and studied the Torrey Pines Golf Course layout, then zoomed south toward Scripps Pier. At times they dipped below the cliff, giving Seawell an up-close look at people on the beach.

“I didn’t see anybody nude, but I checked,” she said, drawing laughter from her family.

Then Alexis Heisa, 18, took her turn as a stronger breeze kicked in. The excursion featured higher speeds and banked turns.

The gift of flight was from her father, Tom, after their visit to San Diego State, which she’ll attend this fall.

It was either this or visiting the Dead Sea Scrolls on exhibit at the San Diego Natural History Museum, Tom said, as his daughter whizzed by.

Judging from her broad smile, he made the right decision.

pete.thomas@latimes.com