I pull back. 

 "OK, now!" 



Now? I think. Really? Now? 

 "Flare! Flare!" 



I thrust the bar out, expecting the 

 nose to lift and my feet to find purchase 

 on the ground. Instead, I land in a 

 bumpy belly slide, leaving behind 

 parallel ruts where my toes have dug 

 into the sand. 



"Oops — too late," Torrington 

 says. "You OK?" 



I'm laughing too hard to answer 

 him. The sand has sloughed off 30 

 years, and I feel again like a 6-year-old 

 at recess. No inhibitions. No self- 

 consciousness. Nothing but pure play. 



Flying High 



My last three flights are smooth, 

 and I'm even able to progress from 

 holding the horizontal bar as I glide to 

 holding the side bars, a more advanced 

 position. 



1 he author gloats. 



Lankford 



By the end of my lesson I'm a little 

 winded from hefting the glider back up 

 the dune five times, even with the help 

 of the instructors and the ocean breezes. 

 But I'm not tired — I'm pumped up and 

 ready to go again. 



Back at the school's office, 

 Torrington presents me with a first- 

 flight certificate and signs off my first 

 lesson in a logbook. 



"Congratulations!" he says, as he 

 hands over the booklet. "Your feet left the 

 ground and you had wings. You flew." 



In that respect, I consider myself 

 like Icarus, the mythological high flier 

 with wings of wax and feathers. But my 

 wings didn't melt, and I alit safely back 

 on earth rather than crashing into the 

 ocean. The ancient Greeks who held the 

 Icarus myth in awe would be impressed. 



That night as I finally wind down 

 in my hotel room, I look at the many 

 spaces in my logbook yet to be filled in 

 and fantasize about future lessons to take 

 and skills to learn. I can drive to the coast 

 for more instruction on weekends and 

 even get my boyfriend in on the fun. 

 And then there's the exciting prospect of 

 launching from an ultralight and tandem 

 flying with an instructor 2,000 feet in the 

 air. And if I get really good, I can go to 

 the mountains and like that Cherokee 

 brave at The Blowing Rock ... 



Suddenly, 40 seems far, far away. □ 



f 



lew places in the 

 country offer as gentle a 

 terrain for hang gliding 

 lessons as the rippling 

 dunes at Jockey's Ridge 

 State Park, and Kitty Hawk 

 Kites is currently the only 

 school operating nearby. 

 Open year-round except for 

 Christmas Day, the school 

 is busiest from May until 

 October. A basic five-flight 

 first lesson on the dunes 

 costs $69, but various 

 packages of instruction are 

 also offered. 



All equipment is 

 supplied by the school, but 

 you'll want to show up in 

 proper clothing: wear 

 closed-toe shoes and dress 



Want to Learn to Fly? 



Kitty Hawk Kites owner John Harris 



for the weather. A wind- 

 breaker is helpful on cool 

 days, and you may want to 

 bring along sunscreen and 

 sunglasses. 



If you're traveling to 

 other areas of the country 

 where the sport is popular, 

 the United States Hang 

 Gliding Association, based in 

 Colorado Springs, Colo., can 

 help you locate a school. □ 



Telephone Numbers 



• Kitty Hawk Kites: 

 919/441-4127 or 

 800/334-4777 



• United States Hang 

 Gliding Association: 

 719/632-8300 



Daun Daemon 



6 JULY/AUGUST 1997 



