Soaring High Over Tennesee's Lookout Mountain

by Rachel L. Miller

Two thousand feet in altitude, the writer and her instructor soar above Lookout Mountain.

"Are you insane?"

If I had a dollar for every time I've been asked that question, I'd have a good five bucks.

Suffice it to say, I'm a relatively practical, typically conventional twenty-something woman. I've never been bungee jumping, skydiving or spelunking. Driving a steady five miles per hour over the speed limit is as crazy as I get. But on a recent trip to Chattanooga, Tenn., I just couldn't pass up a chance to tackle my fear of heights.

I signed up for hang gliding. When I told my friends, most were outright envious (even my mother, believe it or not). However, two of them immediately questioned my mental well-being.

Keep in mind, of course, that what I signed up for was a tandem hang gliding adventure. I wasn't about to leap off the top of Lookout Mountain solo. And although I knew all of Lookout Mountain Flight Park's 16 instructors were extremely skilled and knowledgeable, I breathed a sigh of relief when I learned that my hang gliding instructor, Mike Labado, had logged over 10,800 tandem flights in his career.

After all, Lookout Mountain Flight Park is the number one hang gliding school in the world, offering year-round gliding and instructors who have been with the school anywhere from eight to 15 years. Once you add in the benefits of learning how to hang glide with the assistance of aerotowing (the glider being towed by ultra-light plane to a certain altitude, then released), it's easy to see why I chose this particular place to help provide my first hang gliding experience.

Labado's "office" is one unlike any other -- sloping hills of evergreens... limitless blue sky. Not a single cubicle or file cabinet in sight for miles.

As instructor Dan Zink told me, Lookout Mountain Flight Park offers the best of both worlds when it comes to hang gliding. "There are lots of schools with aerotowing, but they don't have a mountain. And then there are lots of schools with mountains but no aerotowing. We have both."

And it's the win-win combination that lured Zink from his native Indiana for a few days of adventure. "I came down for a weekend, but stayed for a year."

That seemed to be a consistent story with many of Lookout Mountain Flight Park's employees. I began to understand why as soon as my instructor motioned for me to join him at the launch site, saying, "Come out here and step into my office, young lady."

Labado's "office" is one unlike any other -- sloping hills of evergreens, a limitless blue sky and two dogs happily playing alongside the ultra-light plane and the glider. Not a single cubicle or file cabinet in sight for miles.

Once I was outfitted with a trés chic black nylon harness of sorts (which Labado hooked into the glider, allowing me to hang just inches above the ground), my heart began to pound wildly.

"If you're not grinning when we touch back down," Labado said with a chuckle, "You get your money back."

This is it, I thought as he hooked himself up to the glider and instructed me to hold on tightly to his harness. Adrenaline pulsed thourgh my veins and I let out an exuberant howl.

"Let's go!" I cried, already grinning ear-to-ear.

Labado gave a signal to the ultra-light plane pilot and the glider's wheels rolled along on the smooth grass for a few seconds before we became airborne.

"We're going to tow up to 2,000 feet and then we'll detach from the plane," Labado informed me.

All I could do was nod. And grin. There was no way I was going to get my money back.

The runway below grew smaller and trees shrunk until tiny enough to pinch between my thumb and forefinger.

"Kids always say the trees look a lot like broccoli," Labado told me as I continued to take in the view.

Before takeoff, I was hoping to hold some sort of interview while up in the air. At least, I thought, I'd ask a few questions. But as we ascended, the only thing I found myself able to say was, "Ohmigosh." And even that was stretching it.

I somehow managed to apologize for my lack of conversation, although how I did it, I simply do not remember.

"I once had an English professor up here with me...and the only thing he could say was 'wow'," Labado responded. "So don't worry, it's OK."

We hit 2,000 feet and our tow plane quickly disconnected, resulting in a minor jerk. And something amazing happened -- the world grew silent.

No humming of a motor, no turning of gears, no sliding of metal on metal. It was just my instructor, the wide expanse of the glider...and me. Soaring above the hills, the wind tickled my scalp and a wide grin cemented itself on my lips. The world never felt so peaceful, so completely spectacular in all of its glory.

Before I knew it, my hands were on the bar and I was slowly steering the glider. With Labado's instruction, I turned a graceful left, then an equally impressive right (impressive to me, at least).

As we neared closer to our landing site, I felt connected with the sky above, the ground below, even the occasional breath catching in the back of my throat. It was almost as if I had soared high enough to touch the sky -- and the heavens beyond -- leaving me with an overwhelming sense of spiritual connection.

When I voiced my thoughts to Labado, he smiled. Apparently, I wasn't alone in that assessment. "Once, my minister asked me why I was working on Sunday instead of going to church. I told him, 'Up here, I'm closer to God than you'd ever imagine.'"

And as we made our final approach to the wide grass runway -- a series of large, sweeping circles -- I knew exactly what he meant.

Labado had promised the world's softest landing, and yet again, he was right. When our glider's wheels connected with the ground, it felt like a playful hop on a pillowtop mattress, nothing as harsh or bumpy as I had imagined. We rolled to a stop, and I was well-aware that a smile was still plastered on my face.

"Now, that was amazing!" I gushed.

"Well," Labado said, unhooking my harness from the glider, "it doesn't suck." He paused, laughed, then resumed his activities. "At least that's what I like to say."

And that, dear readers, is the truth, although probably one of the world's biggest understatements.

In fact, I'm more than ready to head back to Chattanooga for an entire weekend of hang gliding lessons -- yet another experience that I'm sure will not suck.

IF YOU GO...

- Tandem hang gliding costs $129 for a fifteen minute ride. Pay an extra $20 and you'll get in-flight photos of you soaring like an eagle in your glider. They're worth the extra cash. - Lookout Mountain Flight Park offers weekend getaway packages for $399. Students learn to foot launch and land a hang glider from the 65 foot training hill and acquire beginner flying skills through high altitude lessons with an instructor. - Families love coming to Lookout Mountain Flight Park. Kids as young as 5 can learn to hang glide -- why not make it a bonding experience for the whole family? Lodging on-site is available. - Read Rachel L. Miller's companion piece about Chattanooga. - More information is available at hanglide.com.