Current mood:	cheerful
Current music:	Good Ol' 107.5 out of Portland

Holy Crap...what a crazy ride.
Ok, so I haven't exactly been a writing machine the past year or so. Oh well, it just hasn't been something that I bothered to focus on. I spent just so much time and energy getting here that I didn't bother to document it. Specifically I am talking about all the efforts and energy spent in getting to Oregon and keeping the business on track.

At first I wasn't exactly sure why I felt like sitting down and getting my thoughts out, but then I realized "hell yeah" I know why. I generally choose a path that is a little different by the standards of many. Most thought I was crazy for starting my own business. Even more thought I was borderline nuts to buy a building built in 1873 in a tiny Indiana town to call home for the business. Pure nuts to buy an old school bus and convert it to an RV for a cross country move with our four dogs. It isn't crazy or nuts, it is just different. I am an experiential junkie. I like to try new things all the time. I recognize that we only have a limited amount of time here on this planet and that in general we as a society spend way too much of that precious time mired down in a lot of worthless crap. I simply try to avoid as much of that crap as possible and get to the good things.

But last Friday I did something that even surprised me. I started on the path towards my glider pilot license. I had always thought about learning to fly and just figured it would be in a conventional powered aircraft, because that is what I had always heard of others doing. Luckily out here in Oregon there are a number of soaring schools or gliderports. To me this seemed like just the ticket. Much quieter and more relaxing than power piloting. One thing I hadn't counted on is that it can be a little disconcerting if you are a control freak like me.

Let's start with the beginning. Friday was gorgeous. It was sunny and perfectly smooth air. A great day for the uninitiated to venture forth from the confines of the earth in search of an airborne adventure. My trainer, Joe is great. He's brash, bossy, gruff, and cheesy all in one large fashion nightmare package. Damn, I hope I get to be like him when I grow up! We strap into our glider and Judy, the tow pilot in her seemingly ancient crop duster gracefully pulls us down the runway and we drift into the air behind her. I was surprisingly (to me anyway) not even the slightest bit worried or anxious about the takeoff. Joe is in the seat behind mine, updating me on everything that is going on and what I can expect. We do a little parabolic hop and "whoop" there goes the tow rope. Wondering, I ask what happens to the rope. Surely she can't fly around and land with that thing just dangling out the back of the plane. Well, yes, she can.

We glide on a fairly nice level straight path for about a minute when Joe tells me to take the stick and get the feel of it. Then he tells me "the glider's yours." WHAT THE HELL. I somehow expected a little more instruction and preparation than that. Luckily he begins filling me in rather quickly on how a glider flies...nice timing, Joe. We glide around and I'm doing fine until the glider starts to lean to the left. Uh...what exactly do I do now. He twitches the stick to the right in one quick movement and we're back flying level. Great, I almost peed myself. My right hand grips the glider control stick as if it were a club. I'm using way too much force, Joe says. Hell yes, by my reckoning, this stupid little stick is the only thing between me and a fiberglass coffin with wings tilting on its side and plummeting out of the sky like a rock. I have to relax and not think about falling out of the sky, let's focus on trying to stay "in" the sky. Next thing I know we are coming in for a landing and Joe takes over to bring us to a perfectly smooth landing in almost the exact spot we took off from.

The tow rope is reattached and we're back off into the wild blue yonder. This time, I am keeping the glider in the same flight path as our tow plane (critical so that we don't all die). After detachment we try a couple of left turns, which I completely botch and Joe tweaks the stick to keep us flying level. He tells me I am doing great. I think he just says that so I won't throw up in his glider or so that I'll keep coming back. I feel as though I am piloting some very retarded duck through the sky which is sad as the glider itself is damn graceful. I can't believe that I am doing this already and only after about twenty minutes in the air. Too freaking cool! Joe brings us in for another spot on landing and we open the canopy and I step out onto the runway. Whoa. That was AWESOME! Suddenly I realize I am shaking. Part adrenalin overload, part scared out of my mind. I like everything but turning. Takeoff, level flight, landing...it is all fantastic. But making a turn in the glider is unnerving. I keep trying to lean against the turn like on a motorcycle. Only that doesn't work in a glider and takes your view off the yaw string and away from where you are gliding...and that isn't good. It just feels weird since I don't know yet the flight characteristics and limitations of a glider. Like, how far can you bank the glider before all lift is gone and you plummet to the ground. From a couple thousand feet it won't take long. Hmmm...at 32 feet per second per second, that'd be about...oh hell with that...I don't want to know! I just want to get back to level flight!

I stand around for another hour watching another student practice some landing drills. All in all, my lesson was only about an hour for the two flights. It seems as though it went by in the blink of an eye. I can't wait to get back here next Friday and do that again...better this time.

Many things I do are different or possibly interesting, but nothing has compared to piloting a glider. If you have the opportunity, I certainly suggest you find a gliderport near you and at least take a ride.