written by Gavin Loch
2003 Vol 1 Issue 10

"Are you keen on roller-coasters", asked my debonair pilot Gordon, when we had reached an altitude of 4,000 ft. Failing to see a connection, I replied that I was; and before I could utter 'adrenaline junkie', Gordon had plunged the microlight into a spiral dive. Being in the front seat, I held on tighter to the control bar; and prayed.

As it was, I needn't have worried: my initial emotion of fear had been overtaken by one of rapture and excitement. With the microlight performing a sharp downward corkscrew, I experienced that unique effect that fighter pilots, Formula One drivers and roller-coaster aficionados share alike: g-force. The feeling was immediate, and as I saw the ground, and the sea, slowly get closer, I had already become addicted. The adrenaline was pumping through my veins, and my heart beating faster, all adding to the intensity of the experience. Then, just as I was slipping into a reverie about fighter pilots of old, Gordon pulled us out of our steep descent, before speaking in his mock WW2 RAF tone: “Rabbit squadron. Jolly good show old chap. We must try it again some time”.

Having been up in a glider on a couple of occasions, and quite enjoyed the experience, it suddenly occurred to me one day to give microlighting a try. For the uninitiated, a microlight is basically a hang-glider with an open cockpit underneath, which can seat up to two people. A small, usually two-cylinder engine, with a propeller, is used to power the flying machine. Apart from the obvious difference of take-off and landing, it behaves pretty much as a hang-glider would at altitude.

With this in mind, I recently arranged a one-hour flying lesson with the Scottish Microlighting Organisation, based in the gentle rolling countryside outside Edinburgh. I was lucky: it was a lovely balmy day, an azure sky and few clouds. First, Gordon, my pilot for the session, gave me a quick, but intense, briefing regarding design and controls of a microlight, and how it responds at altitude. Feeling a lot more knowledgeable on the subject, I climbed into my jump suit and swaggered confidently over the grass to the microlight, where Gordon was making final adjustments. After putting on my crash helmet, and climbing into the front seat, we were all set for take-off.

My confidence had now turned to a feeling of apprehension and adrenaline. Through the microphone in my helmet, Gordon told me to flick the ignition switch. With the switch on, he now slowly increased the throttle from a control at the rear of the cockpit. The throttle could also be managed via one of two pedals underneath the front nose cone: the other being the brake. The engine suddenly exploded into life, and we taxied off down the runway. 'Chocks away Biffo!' shouted Gordon as he increased the throttle while taking hold of the triangular A-frame that is the 'steering wheel' for hang-glider and microlight pilots alike. The speed increased rapidly for another fifty yards; then we were suddenly aloft, up into the blue yonder.

As we gained height, it was fascinating to look over the side of the cockpit and view the surrounding scenery: yellow fields of corn, cars making their way along twisting roads, farmhouses, a winding river, and a nearby village with its small white church. The more altitude we gained, the smaller these features became, so that it soon resembled a Legoland village from my youth.

Once we had reached 3,000 ft, Gordon relaxed the throttle and headed inland towards the coast. Being in a microlight, the reader must understand that one is much more exposed to the elements, than in a glider, for example: as there is no canopy, the sensation of flying and the sense of altitude, is very palpable, thus making the flight more exhilarating. One look over the side of the cockpit immediately brought this home. Then there was the feeling of stillness, of total calm, and the removal from the daily pressures of life on terra firma. Up here in this serene world, everything seemed in perfect order, to the extent that the emotion I experienced was almost ineffable. I had finally found my paradise.

One of the interesting things about a microlight is the fact that it can be steered via the front or back seat. Although it is easier in the front, the person behind can simply lean forward slightly and grip the horizontal part (known as the control bar) of the triangular A-frame. When wishing to fly straight and on an even keel, the pilot must see that the front strut (which runs vertically from the nose cone up to the middle of the wings) is vertical with the horizon.

After Gordon had demonstrated the full range of maneuvers, he handed over the control bar, saying that I was to turn right along the coast, over the beach. Taking a firm grip, I pushed the control bar to the left, in order to lower the right wing, and the machine turned to the right. I then centralized the control bar, bringing the microlight, and the front strut, back to an even keel. My first maneuver had been executed with perfect assertiveness. Was this a fluke, or were flying and myself destined to become a match made in heaven?

Unsurprisingly, it was the former. The rest of the maneuvers I attempted to perform were decidedly below par, as was to be expected. Although nothing like as difficult as flying a plane or a helicopter, a considerable amount of practice is still required for one to become competent enough to fly solo, and then gain their licence. However, for today, I was simply here to enjoy the flight. Gordon took over again, and after flying along the coast for a while, and performing a spiral dive, we headed back to the small airfield.

I can't remember much about the descent and landing, as it all happened so fast. Before I knew it, we had landed smoothly and my foot was on the brake pedal, as per instructions. My hour of paradise was sadly over; but as I exited from the craft and stood looking up at the clouds, I recalled the apt words of one Leonardo da Vinci: 'When once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return'.