I’m not much of a daredevil.
The teacups at the amusement park are what I consider to be the ultimate thrill ride. My first rollercoaster ride was also my last.
However, when I received a phone call last Wednesday morning regarding a story on Cu Nim Gliding Club’s program taking disabled residents of a long-term care facility on a specially equipped glider, I jumped at the opportunity to experience a glider.
If you’ve never heard of gliding before, the sport involves strapping yourself into a tiny and narrow fuselage of an unpowered ultra-lightweight aircraft. There is no engine to fly the aircraft, which relies solely on thermal winds to resist gravity’s pull and keep it suspended high above the hard ground.
Gliders rely on “cloud hopping” to stay afloat and reach spectacular heights and distances. Big and fluffy clouds with dark bases, called cumulus clouds, make for the best gliding conditions as they usually mean there are active thermals below them and light winds. Thermals are a warm column of air in the atmosphere caused by the sun’s energy heating the ground, which in turn heats the air above. Glider pilots seek out this warm rising air and circle the thermals to keep rising.
I flew with pilot Wilf Plester, the Cu Nim Gliding Club’s safety officer (a reassuring title when you are about to put your life in this man’s hands). Wilf took me up with one of the club’s gliders, but this was not just any aircraft. The one we were about to fly was one of the most state-of-the-air aircrafts on the market, of which there are only two in existence in all of North America.
Perhaps it was the uniqueness of being given the once-in-a-lifetime chance to fly in one of these incredibly high-tech aircrafts, or the fact I was given less than two hours notice of what I was about to do, but my nerves were nonexistent as I strapped myself into a parachute and climbed into the fuselage.
I’m not sure what came over me, but my deathly fear of heights diminished as fast as the people on the ground suddenly disappeared into tiny ants thousands of feet below us.
One would think the need for a parachute — only worn as a safety precaution in the unlikely event the glider suddenly drops out of the sky or collides with another glider — would have been enough to send me running or at least grab a sick bag before takeoff.
I’m glad the butterflies stayed out of my stomach, because the experience of flying in a glider is truly awe-inspiring. A little bumpy at first as the tow plane pulls us along the grassy runway, once the glider is airborne, the aircraft soars through the air as smooth as an eagle.
At 7,000 feet above sea level, one gentle tug of a gold lever followed by a “thanks for the tow” over the radio, and we were off.
In that first moment of being free from the tow plane, the glider felt like it was suspended in the air. I was told this was because we were still climbing by about 200 feet every few seconds. No longer relying on the tow plane to lift us, we needed to gain as much height as we could to stay in the air as long as possible.
But with the first slight steer downwards, it was clear we were flying and moving quite quickly. The views were utterly incredible, especially of the Rockies. After circling Black Diamond we headed over to the Big Rock in search of more thermals.
Another glider pilot sharing the warm sky mentioned there were some good winds in that area, a point made all the more clear as they executed a few acrobatic stunts directly above us making for a perfect Kodak moment from my position.
For a few unforgettable moments, Wilf handed the controls over to me and I had the chance to fly the expensive glider by myself. Admittedly, the nerves suddenly did surface once I held the joystick, shifted my feet from left to right on the rudders, and realized the ground was perhaps not as far down as I had originally hoped.
Time goes by far too quickly when your head is in the clouds as, before I knew it, we were coming in for a landing and the dream-like sequence was over.
Gliding, although never on my bucket list, was quickly added and immediately crossed off, my “scaredy-cat” former self now an official adrenaline junkie.
Skydiving, here I come.
