Before Sept. 11, 2001, I took hang gliding lessons from WindSports Soaring Center in Los Angeles at their Dockwieler State Beach (Playa Del Rey) training park.
After 9/11, when the country had calmed, I phoned WindSports Soaring Center for my third lesson.
Rays of sunshine poked through a low blanket of gray fluttering over Dockwieler. The wind pushed in off the ocean. It was a perfect hang gliding day. A man with red, sun-bleached hair looked up from the WindSports table bedecked with colorful flags and smiled. He stood and his tall lanky frame towered over me. “I’m Paul Thornbury,” he said. “It’s been a while since your last lesson, so we’ll do some backtracking.
I glanced at a seagull overhead, thinking, I want to fly high like that.
Thornbury directed me to help two men who were stooped over an airframe, hooking wires and straightening a tangerine colored sail. I greeted Steve Kolander, a songwriter/musician from Atlanta, and Laguna Beach resident Mark Riehm, another tall giant. “Are you nervous?” I asked them.
Kolander, in town cutting a CD (People Magazine described him as “the new swivel-hipped, forelock-in-the-face lover boy in town.”) said, “I’ve wanted to do this for years.”
Riehm, back for his third lesson, was already scouting for a brand-new glider.
With the equipment check complete, Thornbury explained, “The ground is your enemy. If you look at it, you’ll fly into it.” He instructed us to keep our wings level, maintain balance and to look where we wanted to go. “Women make great glider pilots,” he added, nodding at me. “They have a lighter touch and a better sense of balance than men, yet 90-percent of glider pilots are men.”
Ten-to-1 odds! Do you hear that ladies?
With our helmets and harnesses donned, Thornbury demonstrated the first flight. He lifted the glider and stepped to the bluff’s edge. As the wings balanced, Thornbury sprinted down the slope, becoming airborne mid-point. He flew smoothly toward the target; a windsock placed 100 yards out onto the sandy beach. Altitude: 20 feet.
We cheered, eager for our turn. “You didn’t get very high,” I blurted.
“It’s not how high,” Thornbury said, laughing. “You must learn control, balance and steering before you go for altitude.”
On Riehm‘s first attempt, he achieved a near perfect lift-off and stayed on course. Altitude: 12 feet.
I was next. Too happy to be nervous, I looked straight at the target and started down the dune. Thornbury ran alongside me, guiding the glider. “Don’t look down. Accelerate. Keep it light. That’s it!”
The flying sensation was pure joy. I giggled as I descended. Thornbury yelled, “Keep your legs down and push up on the bar.” When I did, I landed gently, as if I’d been doing it forever. Altitude: 6 feet.
Chomping at the bit, Kolander hooked into the glider. His instructions were the same. When he sprinted down the sand dune and took flight, we heard a loud “Wow-w-w!” Altitude: 12 feet.
On Riehm’s next few flights, he soared. Altitude: 25 feet.
Kolander and I were green with envy. “Be patient,” Thornbury said. “Conquer flying straight.”
For the next few hours, Thornbury effortlessly sprinted up and down the dunes after us, improving our skill levels. Riehm gained control, distance and altitude. Kolander could do no wrong. I flew several great flights with a few belly flop landings into the sand, forgetting to put down my landing gear (my legs). Thornbury then showed us how to steer. The others performed with confidence while I struggled. Thornbury told me to relax my grip and ease out on the bar.
I yelled, “Clear!” and trotted down the slope. When I loosened my vise-hold grip and let the bar out, I rocketed into the air like the seagull, and steered the glider even as the wind tried to push me off-course. Altitude: Past the moon!
Upon landing, Thornbury bear-hugged me. “You were in complete control!” he said. Riehm and Kolander gave me a standing ovation as I climbed back up the dune.
My buddies flew their own perfect flights and after the lesson was over, we were exhausted and too elated to remember our names. But not too tired to remember how high we flew!
What’s a girl to do?… Check out hang gliding in Lake and Mendocino counties and DREAM about soaring the skies once again.
Lucy Llewellyn Byard is currently a columnist for the Record-Bee. To contact her, email lucywgtd@gmail.com
