Heaven. Soaring over azure seas, taking off from golden sands in smooth coastal breezes. I soared for hours, finally doing a little bit of paraposing to land where all the bikini clad sunbathers were basking on the beach.

A front came through and moved us on, onwards to Canungra the location of a Paragliding competition. We arrived and after some driving around watching gliders at cloud base we found the launch site - Beechmont. We were eager to fly, and after talking with the local officials were given the ok to take off, and a briefing as to the bombout zones.

The flight was awesome, strong thermals abounded and hooking in hard I shot up high, popping out my wing as it regularly folded over in turbulence. Soaring I took in the vista from the Gold coast to the mountains, I felt inspired, electrified, alive. This is the moment where you feel like a king, and you know why you fly.

It was time to land, and the options were to top land near the car park, difficult, or to take the bomb out and hike two hours up a monster hill. I took the top approach, in hindsight was a poor decision. Most accidents are the result of pilot error÷this was no exception. Coming into land in strong lift a gust from the side caught my chute, and dumped it to the ground, I recall thinking chute . . . leading edge first . . . hitting ground. The next instant had me still high in the air, facing down arcing rapidly to hit with an almighty CRUNCH!

Pain. All over, everywhere. I just wanted out of the harness, unbuckling I flopped, writhing around, in shock, crunched. Anything broken? Am I bleeding? My teeth? My mind raced as people ran over. "Are you ok?", "My God you fell from 30ft", "Don't Move!", "Can you feel this?" snippets I caught, I could feel my feet and move my back, and lay starry eyed looking up feeling lucky.

Everything hurt, there was no way in the world I was walking up that hill. "Call an ambulance" I muttered, and then waited, wriggling in pain until I was picked up, and carted off the hill. A long winding drive to the nearest hospital - on the Gold Coast and I was unloaded into emergency, x rays and cat scans. Two broken ankles, no broken back.

My first night in hospital was painful and restless and kept up by the Gestapo like vigilance of the night nurses shining their torches on me every two hours÷ two broken ankles - where was I going to go!!

What they don't tell you about accidents, and the pain killers are the side effects. Three days of codeine and I became very constipated. There is nothing more stressful then constipation, more worrying to me then my broken bones! Actually there is one thing scarier - the threat of an enema. That threat alone was enough to prompt me into action. Relieved I planned my exit from the gold coast and headed home to Sydney.

I was picked up at the airport by Chris (Dr Lips), armed with a wheelchair and a smile that said very clearly "You stupid git!" I got back home, and after navigating the four flights of stairs to my house breathed a sigh of relief. Being wheelchair bound one misses the little things - showering, Standing to urinate and reaching the microwave. Fortunately I live in a warehouse, big, flat and wheelchair friendly.

I talked to my family on the phone, they were pleased to hear that I was ok. My six year old nephew had recently got a paragliding Action man, running around with it saying proudly "look it's uncle Mark!", after news of my incident, he has taken to holding it in the air and dropping it. When it hits the ground he cries out "look it's uncle Mark!", and then giggles. My family seem to find this amusing too.

I needed to get some surgery done to my left ankle, two bolts. So after consulting an orthopaedic surgeon I was booked in the next day. The day came quickly, and I was soon in the operating theatre, drip in place and then watching the anaesthetist administer three syringes worth of stuff, feeling it burn up my arm into unconsciousness.

Post Op I was taken to the Intensive Care Unit (it had a free bed! Though discovering I was in ICU stressed my parents considerably!) and placed at a far end. Unable to put weight on my feet I was given a wee bottle for "bladder emergencies".

I had never given it much thought, but it is incredibly hard to urinate whilst lying down the bottle discretely beneath the covers. To make it worse stage fright reared its head every time someone approached, I would just relax and suddenly someone would enter and scare it away! A lot of people enter the intensive care ward! Several traumatic hours later I slept and moved for the next few days to a room of my own.

The first two days in hospital are a pethidine filled haze, a state of blissful sleepiness, and syringes. I must have had at least 20 shots, leaving my behind punctured and sore. I kept in mind the training that I had practised before my operation - every time the nurse entered my immediate response was "It hurts, it hurts÷.!"

After two days of pethidine bliss it stopped, my new nurse refused to give me any. I labelled her a grumpy B****. I wasn't happy.

I have to make a special note of thanks, to Chris and Rachel, for all the help on the scene, and for getting me around on the Gold Coast. To Dr Lips for picking me up at the airport, with only a small laugh and a wheelchair. To my Flatmates Al, Carey and Brent for clearing obstacles, food, moving the microwave and being supportive, you guys are THE BEST. To Farmer "Bad Doctor" for his "advice", Scott for his technical genius and finally to family and my friends who visited, laughed, called and entertained, making a mile wide smile and keeping my morale high. Thanks!

Now several weeks later I am free of the chair, an enlightening experience, so much we take for granted. Now walking, running and climbing again I look forward to more adventures in front of me.