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WINTER HAVEN - West of Orlando, northeast of Winter Haven and just
inside the Polk County line, is nothing.
Nothing but trees, grass
and birds Feathered birds and Dacron birds, flying peacefully together,
sharing the sky, floating on the thermals. "There's no feeling like it,"
said Barry Diesel of Orlando. "Just the wildlife and the birds are amazing.
They'll stay with you hanging with you, or above you or next to you."
Diesel fondly remembers
hang gliding 5,000 to 6,000 feet over an open field owned by the Florida
Hang Gliding Association, Inc. in March. Any of the roughly 100 club members
may drop by on good flying days. That's when there's good air or a good
lapse rate - the difference between the night and mid-day temperatures
when the hot air, or thermals, are rising.
Some people stop by for
lessons from Malcolm Jones, who owns and operates Florida Hang Gliding,
Inc.
There's not much to the
200 acres of land the club owns, old oak and cypress trees surround the
52 acre grass field: just an old farm house, a couple of campers, a small
office, a climbing wall, a trampoline and a pool with a deck, where most
of the members sit and chat about the weather. Jones says people have the
wrong image of hang glider pilots.
"People come around hang
gliding, in general expecting a wild tattooed motorcycle gang with a kind
of death wish. Instead, they get greenpeace," said Jones.
At 37, Jones is considered
a pioneer of sorts in the sport. He started flying at age 17, sponsored
by E-Z Wider, and traveled all over the world.
He has flown over volcanoes
in Guatemala, the Grand Canyon and off Glacier Point in Yosemite National
Park.
"Hang gliding has done
a lot for my life," he said. "I've seen the world from a special perspective."
The Wallaby Ranch, where
the club flies and Jones and company conduct lessons, is a place where
pilots study the weather more than a television weatherman for the best
conditions. They come whenever they can sneak away, often bringing camping
gear and staying for the weekends. One club member sets up a satellite
dish. The only way to find the ranch is to look for the gliders, get directions
from a member or spot the glider on the mailbox.
"It's a lot of fun flying
with your friends," said Jeff Graves, 36, of Winter Haven. "I get a lot
of personal satisfaction staying in the air with whatever Mother Nature
gives you. You can fly in the air all day."
Friends at the ranch belong
to a special club, built from sharing the thrills of flight. "You have
something very dear to yourself in common," said Jones. "You make fast
friends and good friends. Immediately you know where each other comes from.
The friendships that grow out of this place are unusually strong."
The record at the ranch
for staying in the air is 6 1/2 hours. Recently, one pilot stayed up two
hours and 15 minutes and he couldn't wait to tell his friends.
Jones said he's heard
that some of the pilots who work at Sea World saw a sign on the break-room
board that says, "No Hang gliding talk".
The club has grown over
the years, from the days of flying off somebody's lake while being towed
by a boat or down a road towed by truck. Now there's aerotowing - being
lifted by a yellow ultralight, called the Dragonfly, made specifically
to climb at a steep rate and a slow speed.
"We're into soaring and
motorless flight," Jones said. "Most wouldn't want this, they think it's
too slow."
Slow is the perfect way
to describe life at the ranch. Stop and listen an all you can hear is the
wind blowing in your ears or an occasional flap of a glider wing.
Pilots are walking around
looking up at the sky. "It's a very weather-dependent thing," Jones said.
"If it's gusty or rainy we don't fly.
When the weather's beautiful,
people come out of the woodwork."
Flying a glider is the
closet man can come to flying without his own feathers, members believe.
Flying an ultralight is cheating, and skydiving is falling, not flying.
Gliding is also a science.
A glider's wing span is 36 feet long, made of a Dacron sail and an aluminum
frame.
Pilots hang under the
glider's wings in a triangle of aluminum bars with a control bar crossing
in front of them. They hang under the glider's center of gravity in a sleeping
bag looking thing called harness, comfortable enough to sleep in, that
supports their weight. All harnesses are equipped with a reserve parachutes
for safety, although in 20 years of flying, Jones has never come close
to needing one. Pilots must also wear a helmet.
A simple shift to the
left or right will make the glider turn and another shift forward or backward
will cause the glider to go faster or slower.
An altimeter and variometer,
to determine the rate of climb or descent are fastened to the aluminum
triangle in the pilot's view. A handle on the bar provides the mechanism
to release from the ultralight, which tows the gliders on a rope. Gliders
are certified by the United State Hang Gliding Association.
"To me, hang gliding is
a lot like sailing," Jones said.
Even on a beautiful day,
the conditions may not be right. "The lift isn't good today," Jones said
recently. "The sky is blue, it's pretty day, but there's not very many
thermals."
Thermal columns of hot
air lift the gliders - sometimes without their knowledge. Since a pilot
can't always feel the thermals, the variometer tells them when they are
in one. When the needle is on two, the glider is rising at 200 feet a minute.
"It beeps," Jones said.
"When that thing starts
beeping, it's just a rush." Diesel said.
"Reading the lift and
signs of soaring, what's why these people are addicted to it." Jones said.
"It's really, really challenging. It's competitive just to stay up."
Jones offers lessons at
the ranch, allowing students to first fly tandem, next to an instructor
first. Then they move to a beginner glider, followed by flights in intermediate
and advanced gliders.
Jones is quick to point
out that flying at the ranch is not for everyone.
"The big part of the attraction
is the camaraderie," he said. "Nobody's in our way and we get back to nature.
"There's nothing that flies like a hang glider," Jones said. "It's magic."
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