Pre-Flight

Ralph Sickinger


You know what? I had a great time at the Pulpit this past weekend! Let me tell you about my flight...

I got on launch, and the wind had gotten pretty light; it was crossing from the right, but there were occasional gusts that came straight in. I had Mark Cavanaugh and Matthew Graham standing by my side wires, but there wasn't much for them to do, as they kept telling me that the glider was "all mine". Eventually I got a cycle that I liked; I shouted "clear", and took off down the ramp. Legs churning, my stride getting longer with each step, and then I was airborne, and sweeping off to the left to head down the ridge. There wasn't really enough lift or sink to set off my vario in either direction, so the flight was very quiet, the only sound being the wind in the wires of my glider. Without any lift, the 7:1 glide slope to the primary put that LZ just a little out of reach of my Falcon, so I opted for the secondary instead. After a brief circle around the field, I came in behind a small rise, and as I fell into the wind shadow I flared late, and came in on my wheels.

I know, I know; you're thinking "He's getting all excited about a sled ride? To the secondary??" But you know, after almost two full months of the same @#$% forecast every weekend (southwest at 5mph), I was really anxious to fly in the mountains again. Yes, I've flown at the flight parks this summer, but it's just not the same. Don't get me wrong; we [the HG community] are truly fortunate to have two great flight parks conveniently nearby (and to be honest, nobody can party like these flight park crews can after the sun goes down), but my first love in hang gliding is - and always has been - foot launching, especially in the mountains. To me, there is something magical about running off into the wind, with my glider on my back; the glider lifts off my shoulders, and ceases to exist as a separate object. Instead, it feels like I truly have wings of my own... I continue to run, and the ground falls away beneath me, and I continue into the air; like a bird, I tuck my legs back behind me, leveling off in streamlined flight, and whether it is for a few minutes, or for an hour or more, I enjoy the sensation of pure flight, until I have no choice but to return to Mother Earth.

Next weekend marks the 13th anniversary of my first flight, off the sand dunes of Jockey's Ridge State Park, in the "land where flight began"; spitting distance from the spot where the Wright brothers first took to the sky. My first flight lasted 10 seconds, and I flew maybe a hundred feet down a shallow slope, in an evening breeze not unlike the one I launched into just yesterday. But in those ten seconds, I experienced something that changed me forever, and led me to pursue all of the necessary training to get where I am today.

People ask me, "what's it like?" In response, I usually ask them if they've ever seen hawks, circling in a summer breeze, and soaring gracefully across the sky; and if they have, if they've ever wondered what that would feel like.

Well, I know what it feels like. :-)

Standing	Pilot	Good	Bad	Percent	Streak
1	Cragin Shelton	7	5	58%	6
2	Ralph Sickinger	3	3	50%	3
3	Hugh McElrath	3	4	42%	2