The phone rang just when I settled in front of the TV to watch the Friday evening edition of The MacNeil/Lehrer Report.
Before I got the “lo” out of “Hello” came, “Tom, this is the Woodbine Gliderport. Your training flight for tomorrow has been cancelled.” The female voice spoke quickly without taking a break between sentences.
I recognized the voice; it belonged to Laurel, who worked the operations desk at the gliderport. I replied with a short, “Okay.”
“We’ll call you for rescheduling,” and she hung up before I could ask any questions.
She was brief, too brief. However, I realized that she may be calling more then a dozen people who were scheduled for Saturday; many more if the Sunday operations were also being cancelled. I also thought that I recognized a little tension in her voice; but again I thought that it was just the pressure of calling so many people.
Since the weather forecast was for a clear weekend, I could not think of any reason for the cancellation. Maybe it was because of mechanical problems with the tow aircrafts. This was to be my fourth Saturday glider flight training, and I was really looking forward to soaring over the weekend. But my thoughts quickly went back to MacNeil/Lehrer and the current issues of the day.
It was in the early 1980’s, springtime. I just got a promotion and for the first time felt confident in my career as a Federal employee. I was even receiving some job satisfaction; I was now at a grade level where I could sign my own memos. However, my job was not exciting.
I was in my forties and often longed for my Navy days as a flight officer, where flying was a major part of my life. In this previous life, civilians use to watch my crew and I work; they would line the runway just outside the base to just watch us takeoff and land. And when I was stationed in the Philippines, I was able to schedule myself on a flight to Hong Kong just to have lunch. Now I was a bureaucrat with an office on the fifteenth floor of the Parklawn Building in Rockville, where no one was watching me work except my bosses, and I was having lunch at Bob’s Big Boy.
Earlier that spring I came across an ad in the Weekend edition of the Washington Post. A company called Bay Soaring was offering glider lessons in Woodbine, Maryland. However it took me several weeks to gather the courage to call. But I finally did and was set for my first flight the following Saturday morning. That was my first trip to the gliderport.
To get to the gliderport, I followed the directions given me over the phone. I took the two interstates from Rockville to the main street in Woodbine then turned off to a two-lane country road. Eventually I turned onto a gravel road marked by a sign with “Gliderport” and an arrow hand painted on it. About a mile down the gravel road there was another painted sign; this time it was only an arrow. I turned and saw a meadowland with a long, single story wood structure that was painted red. There were some cars parked in a row by the building. Driving across the meadow, I pulled up to the red building and parked.
I realized that I had traveled to a different world. No high-rises. No bureaucrats pushing papers.
I was early and decided to look around before going inside. There were a dozen gliders lying along a grass field that had patches of dirt marking where I surmised that most of the landings would touchdown. On the opposite side of the landing field a windsock told me there was a light wind from the West. I spotted three single engine airplanes. One was a Cessna; the others I did not recognize. Several people were along the flight line: talking, walking around the gliders, and from time to time looking skyward.
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I decided that it was a perfect spring morning for starting my new adventure. The sun was bright, the air was pleasantly warm, and there was a slight breeze. In the Navy on such mornings we would greet each other with “Good flying weather” instead of “Good morning.” With renewed confidence, I walked towards a small group of people that was gathered at one end of the grass field.
They were watching the activities around a glider that apparently was being readied for takeoff. A young girl, most likely still in her teens, was walking around the glider. She was well shaped, tall, and blonde; the kind of girl that the Beach Boys sung about twenty years before. Her natural blonde hair hung halfway down her back. She was wearing a white short-sleeved blouse and cut-off jeans that were cut very short; the white pocket liners showed below the blue-denim frayed fringe of the jeans. Even though it was still spring, her long legs were well tanned. The tan set off the white sneakers she wore without socks.
She was inspecting the front edge of the wing. When she got to the back edge of the wing, she checked the movement of the aileron. She moved quickly to the aft section of the craft and preformed similar checks on the rudder and elevator to ensure free movement. I took her for a flight student performing a pre-flight inspection of the glider.
She also had a big smile that moved her up the scale from “very pretty” to “beautiful” in my personal rating. When she worked herself completely around the glider the tow plane taxied in front of the glider. A young boy, no more than fifteen, hooked up the towrope to the glider, he gave a little tug to make sure that it was attached. He then did the same in attaching the towrope to the tow plane.
The young blonde followed the boy, giving a tug on each end of the hookup. Once completed, she waved to a man about my age who was standing in the group. The guy was heavyset and loaded down with two cameras and several lenses strapped around his neck.
It was then that I realized that the young girl was the pilot of the glider. The heavyset guy apparently was just a customer who was going up mainly to take photos. The blonde’s smile broke into a slight laugh as she helped the stocky man, with his cameras and lens dangling from his neck, stumble into the front seat of the glider. She climbed into the rear seat, closed the canopy, and gave a “thumbs up.”
The young boy was standing by the right wing, the end that was resting on the ground. Lifting the wing off the ground, he gave a “thumbs up” to the pilot of the tow plane. The plane, glider, and young boy began running down the grass runway. The boy stopped; the glider and tow plane continued and were soon airborne.
One of the young people in the group, also in her teens and a brunette, held a clipboard, which had a pocket watch taped to it. I noticed that she looked at the watch when the crafts went airborne and marked the time on her clipboard. Our small group looked skyward as the two crafts circled, climbing higher and higher. When they climbed to about two or three thousand feet, the glider unhooked the towrope. The glider soared un-tethered. I watched a little longer as the glider sailed higher and the tow plane started to descend.
Since the young brunette with the clipboard apparently worked for Bay Soaring, I walked up to her and introduced myself and told her that I was scheduled for an introductory flight.
“Hi, I’m Laurel,” she replied and continued “You picked a great day to start. Good gliding weather.” She spoke with a voice that reflected the smile on her face. I smiled at her reference to weather. For the moment I was back in my previous life, flying in the Navy.
“Have you ever gone gliding before?” she continued.
“No, this is my first time. I only watched before.” Years before, when I was stationed in San Diego, on free weekends my friends and I would drive to Torrey Pines and watch the gliders sail off the cliffs and into the sky over the Pacific. But we were too busy in advanced air navigation training to take on the added responsibilities of learning to soar.
“Well, you’re in for a great experience. Cheryl is scheduled to take you up. She’ll be down in a half hour or so.” She looked skyward at the glider that had just taken off.
While we watched the glider I thought: Well this certainly is not like my Navy days in the 60’s, when all the pilots, navigators, and flight instructors were men. Many instructors were World War II vets. It looks like my first flight in a glider is going to be piloted by not even a woman, but a mere girl. But at least Cheryl’s good looking. None of my Navy flight instructors were that good looking. And I do want to put some adventure in my life.
After a short time Laurel said, “Well, I have to go inside. You can stay out here. I’ll be back when Cheryl lands.”
While I waited I inspected some of the other gliders at the field. They seemed so small and streamlined, especially when compared to the much bigger multi-engine Navy patrol aircraft that I used to fly in. The glider cockpits were small almost bare of instruments and controls. I recognized the compass, altimeter, airspeed indicator, control stick, and rudder pedals. In the center of the control panel, there was a red knob, which I assumed was the release for the towrope.
Soon the tow plane landed on the grass landing field. The pilot, a young man in his mid-twenties, climbed out of the plane. Everyone seems so young.
While I waited, I also thought about taking my first glider flight with a person so young. The fact that she was a girl did not help. But even if she was a guy, I would consider him a mere boy. Since I became forty, I considered anyone who was half my age as just a kid. But Cheryl did appear to be competent. I concluded, since I was there, and it was “good gliding weather,” I might as well go up.
About forty minutes after it took off, the glider landed. The glider touched down softly on its stomach, right on a dirt patch in center of the grass runway. It rolled on, eventually stopping with the tip of the right wing falling to the grass. I watched as Cheryl climbed out of the rear seat. Again she helped the passenger as he struggled with his host of cameras and lens. She did everything with a steady smile on her face.
The teenage boy was soon by the aft section of the glider. Cheryl joined him and together they pushed the glider to the end of the field, then turning it around, getting it ready for the next flight. My flight!
While I was watching these activities, Laurel walked up by my side and said, “Let me introduce you to Cheryl.” She gave a little wave to Cheryl, who started walking toward us.
After the brief introductions I said, “Looks like fun.”
“Certainly is!” Cheryl’s response included a bigger smile and a little laugh at the end.
I continued, “I’m looking forward to learning how to glide.”
Laurel responded quickly, “Well, this is only an introductory flight. There wouldn’t be any real training. The first time up you’ll only be a passenger.”
Cheryl explained further, “I only have a commercial license, so I do most of the introductory fights. I’m not certified as a flight instructor yet. But I should be in a few weeks.”
“Is that okay?” Laurel asked me. They sounded very official in explaining what I should be expecting on my first flight. But I also detected more than that in Laurel’s question. Was she also seeking my approval for having Cheryl as my pilot? Could I request another pilot?
I decided quickly, “Sure, I’m ready to go!”
They both broadened their smiles. Looking at Cheryl, Laurel said, “He’s all yours. I’ll see you guys later on.” She then retreated back to the red building.
“Well, I have to do a walk around. Would you like to join me?” Cheryl asked.
“Sure,” I responded and we started the walk-around inspection of the glider. As we did, Cheryl explained the various parts and sections of the craft, what they were used for, and what to look for in the inspection. I was familiar with most of what she was saying and the terms she used. She showed me the front and rear seats, each with their own cockpit, control stick, rudder pedals, and instrument panel. She closed by providing some safety procedures; mainly that I shouldn’t touch the control stick or rudder pedals without her go-ahead.
The several questions I asked during the inspection were answered without hesitation. By the time we finished, I did not have any qualms about soaring with her.
Soon the tow plane pulled into position. The teenage boy hooked up the towline. Cheryl and I checked the hookup on both ends. A small group of onlookers gathered around again. Laurel joined them with her clipboard to record our takeoff time.
Cheryl motioned me to climb aboard. I crawled into the front seat, hoping that I was more graceful then the guy with the cameras. Cheryl climbed in, closed the canopy, and then gave a “thumbs-up.” We were ready to go!
From the cockpit I watched as the boy raised the right wing, then the tow plane began moving down the grass runway. We started moving with the boy running along still holding the wing. Then faster and faster, the boy fell behind and stopped running and waved. Soon I felt the glider go airborne. Because of the aerodynamics and lightness of the glider, we were off the ground before the tow plane.
Once the plane was airborne, we started to climb. We went higher and higher, circling the field. I could see the group of people who watched us take off dispersing, and Laurel walking back to the red building.
I could also see Interstate 70 and the roads that I took to the gliderport. I recognized the several stores and buildings that I passed going through Woodbine. The green countryside around the gliderport was spotted with farmhouses and barns. I could also see some horses and cows grazing on the fields.
While we were climbing I noticed that the glider was slightly above the tow plane. As if reading my mind, Cheryl tapped my shoulder and said, “We’ll stay higher than the plane to keep out of the prop-wash.” She added, “We’ll release at 3,000 feet.” She spoke loudly, but below a shout. I could hear her clearly.
The altimeter went above 2,000 feet. We were still following the tow plane, circling the gliderport. The motion of the control stick in front of me, and the rudder pedals by my feet repeated the directions made by Cheryl.
Another tap and Cheryl said, “Would you want to release the tow rope when I say so?”
I said, “Yes!” nodding my head.
“Just wait until my signal. The pilot will wiggle the plane’s wings when he’s ready for us to release. Just give a good tug on the red ball, but wait for my signal,” Cheryl instructed.
Soon we were at 3,000 feet and we stopped turning. Once we were flying straight and level the plane’s wings wiggled. Quickly, Cheryl tapped my shoulder and said, “Okay! Now!”
I yanked the red knob and we were un-tethered. The tow plane pulled away from us. There was almost complete silence now, with only a soft “whoosh” of the air going by the glider. We were totally free.
Soon we were making a turn. Cheryl explained the coordination between the stick and rudder controls required to make left and right turns. Pointing out the interstate she said, “We’ll be staying north of I-70. Today we’ll also be keeping the field in sight.” She pointed to the gliderport. She indicated the farmhouses and barns she used as landmarks for navigation purposes.
When we were heading north she said, “See that church with the cemetery? That’s our northern boundary.”
With the boundaries set for the flight I asked the obvious question, “What happens if we wander too far from the field? And we can’t get back to land?”
With a slight laugh Cheryl replied, “Then we’ll have what we call an off-field landing. But there’re plenty of farms and meadows down there to make a landing.” She laughed again and added, “Of course it will be really embarrassing to call Laurel to come and pick us up.”
After awhile she asked what I did for a living. I explained that I pushed paper for the Public Health Service, trying to make it sound interesting.
I asked what she did when she was not soaring. Cheryl said that she went to Johns Hopkins. She was in pre-med, starting her junior year in the fall. She was working her way through college. I also worked my way through college, but I was a soda jerk.
We continued soaring then Cheryl asked, “Would you like to take over?”
Without hesitation I gave a thumbs-up and said, “Sure!”
“Okay, she’s all yours. Just keep her heading towards the church. She should stay level by herself.”
I took control, placing my hands on the stick and my feet on the rudder pedals. Cheryl was right; the glider seemed to be flying itself. When we got close to the church Cheryl said, “We’re be making a left turn. Just move the stick to the left and give some left rudder. Just step on the left pedal lightly. Keep the nose up by pulling the stick towards you. But not too much. Try not to lose altitude”
I noted the altimeter - 2,500 feet. Following her instructions I started making my first turn. Banking gently slightly, the glider started turning left. “You can level off when we’re heading 180,” Cheryl directed.
By the time I leveled off I was a little past 180 degrees, as indicated on the compass. But I quickly made a slight correction to get on the exact heading. I noted the altimeter. Still at 2,500 feet!
“Great,” Cheryl said. I felt like I was flying to Hong Kong for lunch.
While gliding towards the interstate, Cheryl explained how to make heading adjustments for the wind. When we got close to I-70, she let me make the turn again. This is fun!
Even while flying the glider and listening to her instructions, I was able to enjoy the panoramic view of the Maryland countryside. On the ground, driving the back roads, rural Maryland is beautiful. But this spring morning, looking out of the glider, it was spectacular!
I did another turn and leveled off. A little after, there was a tap and Cheryl said, “I’ll be taking over now, Tom. We’ll be going back to land.”
Soon we were losing altitude. Cheryl pointed at some landmarks she used to enter the landing pattern. She explained that we should be at 1,000 feet when we cross the initial point, the spot where we enter the pattern. We hit the point exactly and then started an easy left turn.
When we got out of the turn, the grass field and runway laid in front of us. Lower and lower and then we touched down softly and slowed to a stop. Cheryl popped open the canopy and with a big smile asked, “Wasn’t that fun?”
“Great fun!” was all I could think of saying. She climbed out and helped me by pointing to where I should step to get off the glider. Once out I helped her push the glider to the end of the runway and into position for its next flight.
People gathered around the glider. Laurel walked up to us and asked if I liked it.
“Great fun,” I replied before I realized that I was repeating myself.
“Well, do you still want to take lessons?”
“Oh, sure. I had a great time up there!”
Again a big smile came over Cheryl’s face. Laurel laughed a little and said, “Cheryl’s our best salesman. Come on into the barn and we’ll set you up for next week.”
And they did. Laurel scheduled me for the following Saturday morning with an instructor named John. I also bought a training book, and Cheryl told me what chapters to read for my first training flight. I thanked both of them and said that I would see them next Saturday.
Once back on the interstate, I was already looking forward to my next flight. I thought about the panoramic views of the countryside from the air, the soft-landing on the grass, and of course the pilot with long blonde hair and a beautiful smile.
The workweek went slowly. I wrote memos and pushed more paper. I’m sure I served my country well. But I was just waiting for Saturday and my next time to soar.
By Saturday I made sure that I read the chapters assigned by Cheryl. I got on the interstate early. It was another beautiful spring morning. Great gliding weather!
At the gliderport Laurel introduced me to John. He was about my age and very business like. When we did the pre-flight inspection, John asked me some questions. I answered them showing that I had done my homework.
During our takeoff, climb, and un-tethered flight John continued to provide instructions and ask questions. He explained and demonstrated some flight maneuvers. John then had me take control and make some turns. He critiqued each one. The flight went well and soon we were making our approach for landing.
Once on the ground John briefed me on our next flight and assigned more reading. Laurel scheduled me for the following Saturday. On my way to my car I saw Cheryl and we waved. I asked her if she got her instructor’s license yet. She said that her flight check was next week. I wished her well.
Driving home I assessed my flight with John. There was no doubt that he was a good flight instructor and that he did a good job. But I missed the enthusiasm of the young blonde with the big smile. For her soaring was more than a job, it was a calling.
Again I served my country for a workweek. The Saturday was another great day for gliding. I had another good flight with John. He had me complete some of the maneuvers I learned the week before and instructed me on new ones.
Back on the ground I saw Cheryl and waved. I asked her how her flight check went. With a big smile and two thumbs up she said, “Great, I’m an instructor. I’m now legal!”
I smiled and said, “Good, maybe I can fly with you again?”
“Yes, we can arrange that. Maybe next month when you start your check flights,” she replied.
I made an appointment for my next flight with John. Again the workweek went by a little too slowly. I was not only looking forward my training flight, but also to soar with Cheryl again some day in the future.
But my next training flight would not be. That was the Friday evening when a harried Laurel called telling me that it was cancelled.
Since I now had the Saturday morning free, I went to Dunkin Donuts for breakfast. While drinking my coffee and devouring my jelly donuts, I read the Washington Post. By the time I was on my second donut I got to the Metro section. On an inside page there was a small headline, “2 Dead … Light Plane Crashes.” My heart fell. I read further, “… single-engine … burned after crashing … cornfield near Mount Airy … 6:40 p.m.” Hesitating, I continued, “The victims were identified as Cheryl….”
I couldn’t finish my coffee and donut. The girl with the long blonde hair and big smile was only twenty. I did not recognize the name of the guy who died with her. Maybe he was the young tow plane pilot. I thought about their parents and families. The hell they were going through.
Then I thought about my Navy days. This time I remembered the friends and comrades who were lost: some by war, more by accident. They were also very young.
Laurel never called me back and I never called to continue my training. I decided to do my soaring closer to earth. That fall I enrolled in a photography course at Montgomery College.
It has now been more than thirty years, and I still think about that beautiful spring morning and my flight with Cheryl. If she had lived, maybe she would be a mom, maybe a doctor; but I’m sure she would still be soaring.