Photo credit: Dan Zink
“Let’s go flying,” Kid Dave says. He pauses, realizing he’d caught us off-guard, so he rephrased it as a question– “You guys wanna go flying?”
It was getting to be about sixish; dusk was approaching this corner of the country where Tennessee, Georgia and Alabama collide. We had just driven in from Winston-Salem all day. We fully expected to “go flying,” but we figured we still had another 12 hours or so to steel ourselves… or maybe even talk ourselves out of it. 20 minutes after Dave’s invite/proclamation, however, the Male Half of the Staff was doing lazy circles at 2,400 feet. The Female Half would follow minutes later and go even higher, reaching 4,000 feet. Surreal, to say the least.
We were gigging in Nags Head, NC, last week. We’re in Atlanta right now. But in between, we had three days off. So, we made arrangements to bunk at the home of SHECKYmagazine columnist Kid Dave Miller. Dave had graciously offered lodging… and flying! His sideline, his summer gig, his passion is flying the tow plane at Lookout Mountain Flight Park. (“Our complete desire is to help you realize your flying dreams and hang gliding goals.”) We had a foggy idea of what went on there– and what we might be in for. Had it been any less foggy, however (in other words, had we had any real clear idea of what we might be getting into), we might have declined!
For days leading up to our adventure, the Female Half kept saying, “They’re going to throw us off a mountain!” I would reply, “It’s not a mountain… it’s a cliff.” As it turns out, they weren’t throwing us off of anything. We ended up doing the Tandem Flight (“Soar like an Eagle in this purest form of flight!…Fly Tandem with a professional certified instructor pilot by your side”), but instead of running of a cliff, we were towed slowly into the air by a Kid Dave-piloted airplane, tethered by a 60-ft. line. When we reached our ultimate altitude, our tandem instructor signaled Dave and we were free!
The Female Half, dangling from the glider, at about 200 ft.
The wind on that day was non-existent. But that matters not to the hang glider. As we drifted slowly earthward, the wind (the relative wind) was about what you might experience if you stuck your head out the window of a car going at 20 mph or so. Or maybe piloting a bicycle downhill on a calm day. The view, as you might imagine, is startling. Downtown Chattanooga off to the east, green and rolling hills interrupted by the occasional hayfield or Trenton, GA, to the west. The equipment, our instructor assures us, is sound and eerily aerodynamic, nearly capable of flying without any meddling from us!
The treetops became more like those on a model train platform as we were towed higher and higher. It was nearly too much to process. And it all happened in an unhurried fashion and, except for our incessant chatter with our instructors, it was quiet. Leisurely and quiet, as opposed to, say, jumping out of an airlplane, which seems frantic and deafening. The instructors and Dave and the other hanggliders who hung out at the business end of the airfield were as calm as the wind, which takes the edge off of any panic. And the park’s reputation (and track record) instills confidence. The gliders and instructors and pilots all seem to have a cameraderie similar to that of standup comics– they’re all involved in an endeavor that has certain risks and that has a certain appeal, but that tends to scare off all but the most brave, the most suited. To put it another way– we’re all well aware that we’re engaged in an activity that most people would dearly love to try but is terrifying to the vast majority. It tends to make a group bond.
Kid Dave Miller writes: “Cool article! FYI the tow line is 200 feet long. Attached is a pic you can use. Shot by a man named Chuck Frew.”
Nice shot! Kinda gives one a feel for the whole process. You can see our Dave’s plane, dead center, as he tows a glider to its ultimate altitude over the misty mountains of GA/TN!
Photo credit: Chuck Frew