The rope between us and tow plane tightens as the tow plane revs up.
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WOO HOO, we're off, gentle as a feather. In fact, I didn't even realize that we were in the air until the pilot said, "We're FLYING!"
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Sure enough, I checked the gagues and we were climbing at about one foot per second. Hollister is 230 feet, so the altimeter tells us that we are about 10 feet in the sky.
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Heh, is that BLUE? Well, let's head toward it.
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The tow plane slides to the left and tows us away from the hills.
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Here we are at 5500 feet, living a metaphor of life. The tow plane just cut us loose and veered away to the left. We were on our own just below the clouds, soaring with the falcons and trying to find enough thermal uplift to keep us aloft. November 04, 2004, we were hang gliding in Hollister with Shared Adventures
, Accessible Events
, and the Hollister Flying Club
.
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Yes, the wing IS pointing directly at the ground!
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Whispy clouds over the river.
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The fields looked awesome from this far up! We weren't sure what that brownish-orangish field is. Probably dead onion tops???
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My fearless pilot, Jim, learned to fly in Southern England.
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No, I'm not tilting the camera. Our attitude shifted dramatically as Jim pulled wing-overs.
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Heh, that's the wing pointing at the ground!
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The airport below us.
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On final approach. At about this point, I thought, "Heh, now I know what a space shuttle pilot feels like! Without an engine, you get one shot at this. I sure hope Jim the pilot is as good as he seems"!
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TOUCHDOWN! When the front tire touches the ground, there is a horrendous roaring noise as the brakes do their thing and slow the plane.
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Our ground crew awaits to grab our wing and guide us back to the glider port.
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Jim, pushing me home. What a ride!!!
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