- Life & Leisure > *Life & Leisure F1 > TCD Traveler: Challenging yourself in Chattanooga
- July 31st, 2011
- |
- By Manya Kaczkowski
- (2)Comments
- |
- Archives and RSS feed for Manya Kaczkowski
TCD Traveler: Challenging yourself in Chattanooga
|
"I just wanna fly; put your arms around me, baby..."
All photos by the author
“You know,” I say into the ear of the handsome Spaniard, “I sometimes fly in my dreams.” He smiles, tightening his arm around me slightly, and I melt a little…then force myself to pay attention to the pastoral scene some 2000 feet below me: trees, mountains, water.
I’ve always been a risk taker, but at the same time, I’m a great big chicken regarding certain things — like skiing, flying, walking down icy hills…
But, in a personal quest to spend this year of my life conquering fear, here I am, attached to a man I’ve never met (and now have to trust completely), flying over the country surrounding Chattanooga, Tennessee with nothing but a huge pair of wings and a harness.
It started with an early morning drive up Lookout Mountain, spiraling up 2,393 feet above the Tennessee River. Views from up here are gorgeous, if not dizzying—in fact, from Rock City Gardens, they claim you can see seven different states. I’m not too nervous, really, until outside the Lookout Mountain Flight Park office, I notice several people perched on the side of the road, where there is a HUGE drop-off.
“They’re going to jump,” says the girl next to me. Turns out she’s right; not only can you take off behind a plane, but you can also simply jump off a cliff, like my brother always politely suggested I do.
Lookout Mountain Flight Park is the largest hang gliding pilot training organization in the U.S. These guys even wrote the official training manual for the United States Hang Gliding Association. Small comfort, as I start looking at the paperwork—basically I’m holding nobody liable for anything, including broken bones, fractured skull, or death. After two sentences, I stop reading and just sign everywhere there’s an open space. The last time I read all the paperwork (whitewater rafting), I was too scared to actually go—I took off the wetsuit and waited on a bench for five hours while my best friend had all the fun.
Not this time! I’m determined, and hand the signed papers in, paying an extra $20 for a few pictures—they attach a camera to the glider. I decide not to have a $50 video made, although I’m tempted; it’s set to music, either Tom Petty’s “Learning to Fly” or Sugar Ray’s ”I Just Wanna Fly.”
Step One: Getting "geared up."
As I wait for my turn, I watch a continuous-loop safety video. I sign more paperwork, basically stating that I’ve watched the video, before they strap me into harness and helmet. There are a half-dozen tandem fliers in front of me, and I’m sweating, watching them take off, one by one.
Just about the time I’ve decided that maybe this isn’t a good idea after all, they call my name, so I shake hands and exchange nervous pleasantries with Ozzy, my Spanish flight instructor, who’s been doing this for 30 years. He hooks me onto the glider and tells me to lie down, which feels really strange, since I’m sort of suspended beneath the wings. Then he straps himself in next to me. Meanwhile, a plane has taken position in front of us, and someone else hooks our glider onto the plane. Before I even have time to scream, “Stop!” we’re taxiing, then taking off—wheels on the ground for a few seconds, then up, up and away…whoo hoo!
It is AWESOME.
It’s also loud, for the first couple of minutes, while we’re still attached to the plane. No sooner does Ozzy tell me, “Okay, pretty soon we’re going to be free,” than whoosh! We are alone—gliding smoothly, just a couple of eagles riding the thermals. It’s quiet and serene. Then he asks me, “Are you ready to take over?” I am, and he demonstrates how to position my hands on the frame, and how to lean my body for steering. Below us, Lookout Mountain shimmers, farm fields mingling harmoniously with trees.
“Do you want to do a wing-drop?” says Ozzy. Not knowing what that is, I say sure, and suddenly we angle down sharply, banking a turn. I feel as though we’re flying upside down for a moment, and yes, I give out a yelp, but the accompanying rush is totally worth it. I don’t want to come down, ever.
Wheels and lots of maneuvering make landing easy.
But of course, we have to. It feels like we’ve been flying for five minutes, even though it’s been 20. Ozzy lets me land, which is pretty exciting—the ground comes rushing up at us, and there is a lot of last-second maneuvering to be done. Suddenly, we’re down, and after Ozzy unhooks me, I give him a huge hug. He has no idea how much he’s changed my life. Already, I want to go again.
Instead, I decide to attempt the Ruby Falls ZIPStream Aerial Adventure that afternoon, because I can do anything now. This time, I sign all the papers with a flourish, stripping off my rings and placing them in the little basket for safekeeping.
Ruby Falls, a 145-foot underground waterfall spectacle, has delighted visitors for more than 75 years. The falls are located in the caverns deep inside Lookout Mountain, and the ZIP Stream course was added—topside—in 2010. This part of the mountain is all trees; the cicadas are thick, buzzing so loud I can feel them in my brain, and I’m constantly brushing them off my clothing. Gross—they’re huge. But nothing’s going to ruin this experience for me.
Again, I’m put in a harness, and my group goes through a mini-course with two instructors that look, I swear, younger than my own children. Most of the training centers around figuring out how to attach and remove our harness cords to various points on the obstacle course. It’s harder than it looks—if you do it wrong, you can seriously pinch your hand.
The two courses offer 30 progressively more difficult challenges constructed between the trees: ladders, nets, walkways, bridges, tunnels and zip-lines. The instructors come along with our group, in case one of us gets hung up, hee hee.
First challenge: walk across large round wood stepping stones, held up by two strong (I hope) cables running underneath them. I’m hooked to a line that’s about as tall as I am, so it’s pretty easy to hold on as I walk, gingerly, across the planks. Crawling through a wood box is next—a piece of cake. Then it’s a series of slats that are just hanging there swinging, but side rails keep me fairly stable. I don’t realize how much I’m shaking until I get to a swinging rope mesh with only a slack handrail on the left, and I slow WAY down, suddenly. The person in front of me looks back and shouts, “You can do it, Manya!” and the person behind me asks if I’m OK.
Walking the planks at Ruby Falls ZIPStream Course.
I mutter “Yes,” even though I’m not, and somehow, keep moving. I’ve already discovered that it’s much more difficult if the person behind you steps onto the same obstacle with you—not only do you have to deal with your own weight making everything swing, you also have to deal with his! So I keep going, feeling scared, weak, strong and proud, all at the same time.
And then I reach my nemesis…the tight rope.
It very nearly breaks me.
It’s a wire that must be traversed, with an overhead cable too high up to reach for support. Vertical ropes hang on either side, attached to something up above, but not tethered to anything on the bottom. They are, unfortunately, so far apart that I need to let go of one rope and take a step before I can grab the next one. I realize this after I’ve already stepped out onto the wire.
And then, simply, I freeze. I can’t go back—it’s impossible. I can’t go forward—There’s no reaching the next rope and anyway my legs won’t move. Suddenly, a cicada hits the back of my neck and falls into my shirt. “Yaaaaaahhhh!” I scream, in total freak-out mode now. Still, I can’t move, and I feel tears spring from my eyes. I can hear nothing but cicadas BUZZING in the trees, and feel the one in my shirt crawling on my back. As far as I can tell, the instructors have vanished. Let me just die, I think, and then, in the back of my consciousness, I hear my teammate behind me. “You’re OK,” he says. “You can do it. Just take one step at a time.”
Finally, his words sink in, and I realize there is nothing to do but just that. I somehow take a step, slowly, sweat and tears rolling down my face, then another…then another. When I finally reach the plank on the other side, crying openly now, I lift up my shirt and let the bug out. Embarrassed, I try to recover; one or two obstacles remain, so I keep moving, wiping my eyes occasionally.
At the end, there is an actual zip line—we were told that the best form is to have one leg bent and one leg straight as you fly, but by this time, I don’t care how I look. I zip gratefully through the trees and hop onto the plank, wanting to kiss it…wanting to kiss anything or anybody within close range, actually.
So I made it; but will I ever take to the skies again? Sure… maybe down the road… but I think I’ll keep these two feet on the glorious ground for a while first.
Lookout Mountain Flight Park
7201 Scenic Highway
Rising Fawn, GA
800.688.5637
$149 for a tandem flight with an instructor
Ruby Falls ZIPStream Aerial Adventure
1720 S. Scenic Highway
Chattanooga, TN 37409
$34.95 includes green and blue diamond courses
$19.95 for orange diamond children’s course (between 6-10 years old and at least 55” tall)
Great article.Thanks Again.
[Reply]
Cool. Thanks, Manya. — Strini
[Reply]