http://www.5280.com/2017/11/adventures-in-paragliding/

I met Thompson a few hours later. We’d established our rendezvous
point tentatively because he didn’t know where he would end up that day. His
flight was largely beholden to the weather, which meant he could have easily
overshot Lake City, population 374, and drifted into an adjacent wilderness area
where I’d be unable to find him. Fortunately, I located Thompson without too
much trouble. He had found his way to a gravel sandbar beside the Lake Fork of
the Gunnison River, about five blocks from the center of town. It was a warm
afternoon, and Thompson was giddy because he’d just hooked a cutthroat, fishing
with a packable Japanese-style tenkara fly rod. Wearing Patagonia garb—a puffy
jacket and trekking shorts—Thompson looked pretty good for a guy who’d just
spent eight days in the back of the beyond, steering his glider between
fourteeners, dodging lightning and hail, and camping above treeline under
nothing but a rain fly.