Living Large
My New Year's Resolution included something I described as "Living Large." By that I meant taking chances--not silly ones, not, for example, bungee jumping when the cords are wrapped around your ankles--but opening myself to experiences that were appealing, even if they weren't practical or sensible. Asking, "Why not?" and finding a way to make something happen.
Today I got to do one of the things I've been intrigued by ever since we went to an air show about 15 years ago and watched an acrobatic glider. That glider pulled loop-the-loops and so many of the other aerobatic moves that the engine-powered planes did, but it made them in silence. At that point I said, "Gliders look cool. I'd like to try that someday."
Today was the day. It was my belated birthday present--because after The Great Sorting, I decided that I would prefer my gifts to be experiences not things.
We went to Stowe Soaring, based at the Morrisville-Stowe Airport, laid the money down, and were off into the morning:
Before the canopy was closed.
One of the coolest things is that the glider leaves the ground before the tow-plane. HH who is such a guy about such things said, "That's because the glider has more lift." True, and good science, but it doesn't explain the coolness factor of being not-self-powered and yet being in the air before the powered thing. (I would say powerless, but the scientist out there would point out that the tow-plane was, in fact, providing power.)
We were headed up to 3,500 feet, but a low cloud snuck in, and our pilot said, "Not good," and released the tow-rope early and then we were soaring like the birds. Literally. Because we found a thermal off Elmore Mountain and were turning on what felt like a dime.
Elmore Mountain
I was not using a zoom on that close-up. (It was one of the only cheek-clenching moments, if you know what I mean.)
One of the very most exhilarating things about soaring is the sound--it's not silent, the way it seems on the ground, but the only sound is the air passing over the canopy and the wings. The glider is also very sensitive to the wind, so you feel any stray gusts, but it's a different feeling from when a jet is going through turbulence. Maybe it's because I've watched a lot of hawks flying through the years, but the stray gusts felt more like, "Oh yeah, this is why the hawks will suddenly move sideways."
We rode several thermals while our pilot, whose name I'm sorry to say I didn't get, told us that a farmer tedding hay will release enough heat to make a difference in a thermal. (For those of you who don't know about making hay, tedding is the process of fluffing the cut and drying hay, to make sure it is completely dry before it is baled.)
And then it was time to spiral down
and come in for a landing.
And then it was another couple's turn for an aerial adventure.
Today I soared, literally and figuratively. I intend to do more of both. (Although as my long-time LJ friends know, I've been doing a lot of figurative soaring lately.)
Living large--why not?