The Flight of the Bumbling Bee by Pete Keane
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The Flight of the Bumbling Bee by Pete Keane ne warm New Hampshire winter day in there were no two ways about it. I suddenly for- would be giving him a call for lessons. He’s a 1988, my climbing partner Ken asked got all the danger that I had perceived before. I real nice guy and a great instructor. He’s Ome if I’d accompany him up the was hooked on flight. expecting your call.” Webster Cliff trail to help him launch his Oh great, I thought, now I’ve really done paraglider from the top of the ridge. “Sure,” I A FEW DAYS LATER I CALLED JOHN it. I’ll have to take lessons now that John has so thought, “I’m not doing anything anyway.” I Bouchard. “I heard through the grapevine that thankfully set everything up. packed a six-pack of beer and some lunch and you had a used glider for sale.” “It just so happens,” he continued, “that we headed up. The snow on the trail was broken “Sure,” he said, “I’ve got a seven cell that I’ll be out there about the same time.” out, so we made pretty good time while Ken flies pretty well, but you’ll probably want a Well, I thought, might as well have signed told me all about unpowered flight. I had seen nine for your body weight. I could sew in two my name in blood to this agreement. John Bouchard fly off Whitehorse ledge while I extra cells. But you’re going to have to promise had been rock climbing the previous autumn, to take lessons, and the best place to do that is RACING ACROSS THE US IN MY RATTY and thought it looked cool. Then another day I in Salt Lake City, not here.” old Datsun, flight dominated my thoughts. I had had seen my friend Jeff come up short on the “Sounds great to me,” I replied, trying to one scheduled stop in Aspen to visit with some landing zone and put his glider in Echo Lake suppress the trembling excitement in my voice. friends and then it was on to Salt Lake to fulfill with a frenzy of splashing. Things didn’t look I was on my way now and there was no turning my fantasy of unpowered flight. During the too appetizing then. Above all, I was sure I back. long cross-country drive I slowly accepted the would never get into it. It was far too dangerous A week later I talked to John again. He had idea that one day’s lesson in flight might not be compared to rock climbing, I rationalized, and flown the glider with the two new extra cells in a bad idea. There was the oddball chance that I besides, who could afford the $800 to buy a it and he felt something was weird about it. might learn something. chute? No, this sport was definitely not for me. “It didn’t feel right,” he said, “but I’ll tell In Hays, Kansas my water pump blew When Ken and I got to the launch area at you what. Rick Wilcox is going to trade in his wide open on Easter Sunday forcing my plans the top of the cliff, he unrolled his state of the nine cell for a bigger one, so you could buy his to grind to a standstill. One frustrated open art Feral E-10 glider that John had just sewn from me for $800. It’s a good glider, it won the bivouac on the high plains and a morning of on- him. He then started to unravel, untwist, and competition at Salt Lake last year.” site auto maintenance had me rolling westward uncombobulate the lines that seemed so very Psyched out of my mind I went down to once again, with majestic dreams of flying fill- complex to me at the time. It was the maiden the factory to hand over the cash. He took me ing my caffeine-infested brain. voyage for this machine. Ken was nervous. I upstairs to his oval office for the transaction, as Once in Aspen, I called Jay Jamison to was glad I was watching. if what he was going to say next was of the firm up our plans to go flying. The launch area consisted of a 10–15 foot utmost importance and had to be completed in “No, John never told me you were com- running area before the edge of the cliff. The relative secrecy. ing,” he said. “I’m going to be out of town dur- pilot had only a second to decide if the canopy With the sound of sewing machines grind- ing that time.” I at once felt like an idiot. John was flying correctly before he was obliged to ing away from below, he looked at me squarely had tricked me into this from the start. step into the void. At the time it didn’t seem too in the eye and said, “If I sell you this glider, “Give Fred Stockwell a call. He’ll be unreasonable to me. This is what I thought you’ll promise me that you’re going to take around and he’s the other instructor in the area.” paragliding was all about—some sport for psy- lessons... right?” A few phone calls later, I got ahold of chos who wanted a diversion from climbing. I sat back and thought for a moment. Now Fred. Since he was recommended, I decided to Finally he hooked in to his rock climbing if I don’t promise him, I thought, he’s not going go out and do my one token lesson with him. harness with two pieces of webbing and I held to sell me the glider. On the other hand I really Maybe he knew something that I didn’t. the leading edge up. I couldn’t help feeling a lit- don’t want to take any lessons anyway. I mean Finally, the day came to leave Aspen and tle bit amped. I remember my palms beginning how hard can it really be to fly one of these head a bit further west to Salt Lake City and the to sweat. It just didn’t look as if this wing of things? But if I don’t agree then he might not Point of the Mountain. Heading out of town, my nylon and thread would inflate with air, let want to sell to me. There is no way in hell that automatic choke quit working and my Datsun alone carry a human being down from the top of I’m going to pay any more money to take quickly ceased to exist as I knew it, once again this precipice. Ken grabbed hold of the risers lessons. Only idiots and conformists would take stopping my countdown to lift off. I limped in and tugged. The canopy listed a little to the lessons for something as easy to learn as this. to the closest repair shop and begged them to right, but he ran off the cliff anyway, charging “Sure,” I said after this incredibly reflec- fix the choke that afternoon. There was no way at the abyss with a sense of vigor that I had tive series of thoughts. “I would have never they could do it, they were just too busy. Since never seen him demonstrate before. He was air- even thought to try flying without proper my specialty wasn’t automotive electrical borne and going up. As my jaw went slack and instruction John,” I said in my most promising repair, I had to resort to crude Neanderthal tech- smashed into the ground, my heart skipped a voice. “Besides, I’m moving to Oregon in a few niques in order to make my date with Fred the beat and I stood there watching with incredible weeks, maybe I can stop by the Point of the next day. I shoved my perfectly flexible tooth- amazement. Ken was flying, attached to the air Mountain on my way through.” brush in my carburetor to hold the choke open only by nylon and string. He flew out over the “OK, you got the money on you?” and the old beast ran quite well. I closed the air valley, made a couple of 360’s and landed in a “Yeah.” filter cover tightly with the wing nut to hold the patch of grass surrounded by 100 foot trees “Grease my palm,” he said. I slapped eight mighty brush in place and sped out of town with 2200 feet below. crispy hundreds into his hand, unknowingly renewed hope that I just might make it to Salt All at once I was shocked, blown away, sealing my fate forever as an airhead. Lake that night after all. and jealous that it was Ken instead of me who “Good,” said John, “I’ve already called The drive went fairly well and I found had just landed. I sprinted down the trail as fast Jay Jamison and told him that you were going myself cruising the outskirts of town well after as possible. I had to get one of these airbags; to be coming out to Salt Lake. I told him you midnight. I pulled over near the prison and 22 MARCH 1995 • A L O F T threw down my sleeping bag on the side of the That evening it looked as though the or not I should be allowed to leave the ground. road for a few hours of shuteye.