He may not have the cape and boots, but taking to the air and gaining a unique, calming perpsective on the world (whilst dodging RAF Tornadoes) helps Bonar Mackenzie’s Alistair Bowman unwind from the stresses of the week.

For most of us, checking the weather before reaching for your Gin would not be normal.

When the Gin in question is the make of your paraglider, it makes a little more sense. 

I’ve been flying paragliders for 10 years now, very much as a weekend recreational pilot.  A paraglider is the simplest form of aircraft. It’s a carefully designed and shaped piece of man- made material, from which I am suspended in a seat like harness by a number of thin but very strong lines. The wind inflates the wing and the shape provides lift to let me stay in the air, if the conditions permit.

I’m looking for currents of rising air, either from being deflected up a hillside, or after being warmed by the sun – a thermal.

With skill and luck  - the relative proportions of which vary with the pilot’s ego - you can cover considerable distances flying from one thermal to another.  Pilots (not me) have covered over 100 km in one flight in the UK.  The world record stands at an amazing 250 miles or so.  Not bad for an aircraft you can carry on your back!

Although I have flown abroad, most of my flying is done in Scotland where the Land Reform Act has reinforced what was available anyway, namely responsible, recreational use without affecting the landowners of the hills concerned. Flights in Scotland have included getting to over 6000 feet in Glencoe (now that is a view) and getting most of the way - about 10 miles - down Glen Etive; although the walk back was harder work.

Other popular sites are Aonoch Mor (yes, the chairlift or Gondolas  appeal!) and Tinto in Lanarkshire, but apart from the Central Belt and its airports, most of Scotland presents a chance to fly.

The Borders are great to fly in but if I’m lucky enough to get out during the week you do have to keep an eye open for the RAF doing their low flying training, which is often in the same part of the sky we occupy. There’s a Tornado alley in the UK as well as the US, just slightly different Tornadoes.

There is a degree of risk, but careful assessment of the weather in particular, as well as an honest assessment of your own abilities reduces that. However there is no doubt that as a sport, it is very unforgiving of mistakes.

Why do I do it? Hard one to answer. It is very weather dependant, which can make it highly frustrating in this country. Some flights are technically tricky if otherwise uninspiring when conditions are fickle. The air, being invisible, is hard to predict so what seems good may be unpleasant in reality. 

But at its best, it is an experience like no other. Overcoming your fears, dealing with the challenges and having the satisfaction of doing what very few others in the country are doing; trying not to dwell on the thought that you are half a mile in the air with nothing keeping you there but some man made material and string.  And seeing the world as relatively few human beings ever do, all without mechanical help.  Most things have a different perspective after I’ve been flying. 

 It’s also impossible to think about work matters when you have to concentrate on staying in the air. Perhaps it makes me a more down to earth type than some!

One of the main appeals of the sport is that once airborne, it’s totally down to me how to deal with whatever arises. I make the decisions, and deal with the consequences of both the good ones, and the not so good ones. It’s hard to pretend any one else is responsible when you’ve made all the choices.

So if you see brightly coloured specks flying around Hillend near Edinburgh, one may well fit the “legal eagle” tag better than some.

The main downside is that if I take one Gin, I have to renounce the other kind  ‘til I’ve landed.