<< Continued From Part 3

The reasons behind Panama's coffers are multiple and nuanced, but the driving force is a windfall of shopping-tourism cash.

Historically, that money used to pump into Miami -- but now, since U.S. visas are becoming more and more difficult to secure, it's landing squarely in Panama's lap. The country can't seem to build shopping malls fast enough to keep up. The little island of Contadora is outside the economic splash zone for the moment, but it's the exception.


The greater country is nearly unrecognizable from what it looked like 16 years ago, and it’s definitely ready for their project now.

This boogie we’re attending is essentially meant to be a "movie trailer" for that nascent industry -- the organizers are smart enough to know that they need jaw-dropping footage to convince jumpers to travel. The strength of that pitch relies on a few key elements. First, they need to show off one-of-a-kind Panamanian landscapes (like Contadora, naturally). They need eyebrow-raising stunt jumps for sponsors, like the one that freefly organizer Manuel “Manny” Guevara pulled off today, swooping a Mini Cooper parked fetchingly on the beach. They also need big-name jumpers – like Roberta. Tonight, as always, she is dewy and professionally radiant, fringed scarf dangling from her hips, flitting between dinner guests with natural ease.

On the way back, a bunch of us pile onto the roof of the taxi-van and caterwaul as it careens around the curves, grabbing fistfuls of the baby vines that snake softly down from the overhanging trees.

-----

The third day opens with a sunrise load.

I’m up at 5 a.m., and the air is already warm and heavy with moisture though the sunlight has barely begun to trickle over the blue horizon. The others on the load talk about some random magic on the beach the previous night – splashing through balmy water that glowed bright with bioluminescent algae. For such an early hour, everyone is full of smiles and stories. A few clouds have bubbled up to form tall, fluffy peaks around the island, and we holler to each other as we spin around them, kicking into the whiteness, pulling streaks into the open sky after us like taffy as the sun yawns and stretches overhead.

Later, a group of wingsuits exit over another island, 3 miles north of Contadora, and fly all the way back over the open sea. They land with dazzled faces. Their practiced attenuation has been completely dissolved by the blueness of the water, its submerged sand forming long ripples to match the cloudstreets far above.

That night, blazing tiki torches point the way to the beach bar, where Roberta and the other organizers emcee a raffle over the roaring piña colada blender. They pass out a bounty of sponsors’ electronics, t-shirts, codes for steep gear discounts and a couple of free nights at the boogie hotel.

The beer is flowing, but I want to be up early. I wander away from the group. I’m drawn somehow to the inky blackness of the sleeping runway, where I sit cross-legged and watch the flickering light of the far-off torches ape the twinkling stars overhead.

I hear an out-of-place clip-clopping behind me. When I turn around, I find a young deer staring at me, less than an arms’ length away. After a moment, she stretches out her neck and kisses me full on the face. Then she spins on her hooves and ambles back behind the sleeping Casa, into the hissing jungle.

This place feels just like a dream.

I’m so glad it’s real.

-----

The D-license-required boogie -- which has since been renamed the Pepe's Island Boogie, in memorium to one if its original organizing partners -- will return to Contadora for its third iteration in spring of next year. Interested jumpers should contact the organizers through their Facebook page to be added to the interest list.