A Legend, A Kite and a Dragon Fly

Rylstone, New South Wales

One Saturday in autumn my wife, Lynne, and I spent the day in a land of oddly-shaped volcanic plugs and strange, eye-catching rocks. This was the surprising town of Rylstone, set in one of Australia's famed wine-producing areas. It is about 240 kilometres west of Sydney.

We went hang gliding with our son, Neil, at Rylstone airport—a mostly disused airstrip now operated by hang gliding legend, "Bird Man Bill" Moyes. Since there are no launch sites near the airstrip Bill spent the day towing us up to a couple of thousand feet so we could fly.

Far from the "dare devil" image of hang gliding, the feeling is mostly one of peaceful exhilaration. That's not an oxymoron; the terms seem contradictory, but they're not. To pinch a line from the Eagles' popular song, you get a peaceful, easy feeling as you float on the wind, while the exhilaration comes from the sheer joy of being able to soar like a bird. Hang gliding is the nearest thing to unassisted human flight we'll ever get. If the winds are not too turbulent, and if you stay away from "the edges of the air", it's as safe as walking—but so much more fun.

The "edges of the air"?  What's that?  Well, Sellotaped to the wall of the airport's main building was a clipping from a flying magazine. It gave lots of useful information for would-be pilots (or passengers):

• There is no reason to fly through a thunderstorm in peacetime.
• Never fly with a pilot who is braver than you.
• When one engine fails in a twin-engine aircraft you always have enough power left to get you to the scene of the crash.
• Try to stay in the middle of the air. Don't go near the edges of it. The edges of the air can be recognised by the appearance of ground, buildings, sea, trees, and interstellar space. It is much more difficult to fly there.

"Bird Man Bill" Moyes and one of his Dragon Flies

Before leaving the ground Neil explained what we should expect from the flight, especially the safety features. He even explained how to manoeuvre so that we could try our own hand at flying. Lynne and I had done it all before but for the others it was completely unknown.

Being towed aloft behind an ultralight aircraft was a new experience; our previous flights had all been from hilltops or clifftops. This launch was a little turbulent till we were a few metres clear of the ground; then we became accustomed to the pull on the tow rope as the tiny Dragon Fly climbed. When we had enough altitude Neil dropped the tow rope and we were on our own.

You know it's going to happen, of course, but everything had been so peaceful that when the tow cable was disconnected it was a little scary. There was a loud click as we let go, then the nose dropped and we started to lose altitude. For a couple of seconds I thought we had stalled. I didn't do anything embarrassing, but am willing to admit that my sphincter gripped its teeth and hung on. (I wonder if that's why haemorrhoids bleed?) It didn't take long to work out what had happened and I had total confidence in the pilot—after all, Lynne and I bred him ourselves. Besides, we were nowhere near the edges of the air so any risk was far away. I enjoyed myself immensely.

Normally the Dragon Fly is used only to get the hang glider airborne. The pilot will then search for thermals and use these to gain altitude. Distance flying consists in locating a series of thermals and flying from one to the next, inevitably losing height along the way, then using the new thermal to regain altitude before flying on. Unfortunately the day was too mild to create any worth while thermals and those that existed didn't produce enough "lift" for the kites to climb. (We did see a pair of wedge tail eagles in a thermal, but even they didn't get much benefit from it.)

When it was Lynne's turn to fly Neil arranged for his friend Steve McCarthy to take me up in a Dragon Fly to photograph them. Regrettably we didn't get close enough for any good photographs of the flight but at least there were plenty of good scenic shots of this extraordinary countryside.

Comically I learned before taking off that Steve hadn't flown this particular Dragon Fly before but I knew he had lots of experience in other ultra lights. Still it was a not-to-be-missed opportunity and I wasn't about to complain about risking my life with a "beginner". It was a wonderful flight and, for me, the highlight of the day. Thanks, Steve.

If you ever get the opportunity to go hang gliding it's something you will alway remember. And, no matter what anybody tells you, it's perfectly safe—as long as you keep away from the edges of the air!

Neil explains what to expect during the flight		Lee is strapped into his harness
Bill Moyes, in the Dragonfly, tows Neil and Lee in tandem.
Towing toward Rylstone township		The old Rylstone Racecourse