Glide along over Pennsylvania

Strapped to the glider's front seat, I peered over the nose and watched the horizon slant as we circled the edges of a current. The mountains and patchwork fields in this part of central Pennsylvania, still green on this mid-September afternoon, would soon be lit up with autumn colours.

I tried to picture that and not think about the fact that I was 2,000 feet in the air in a tiny, two-person aircraft with no engine. Or that I had wolfed down a barbecue sandwich for lunch.

Scaling new altitudes

By the time I reached Ridge Soaring Gliderport in Julian, all I wanted to do was get out of the car and plant my feet on terra firma. But I had an appointment to fly — and fly I would.

My pilot, Daniel Scott, an ebullient man in a white cap, sunglasses and a salt-and-pepper moustache, explained the basics. After being towed to a certain altitude by a small "power" aircraft, the glider stays aloft by catching rising columns of air, called thermals, and riding them by turning in circles. In addition, Ridge Soaring Gliderport is at the edge of the Allegheny's Bald Eagle Mountain, which has such favourable air currents that glider pilots can fly hundreds of miles in one trip.

Learning to fly

My flight would last only about 15 minutes. Nevertheless, Scott was pumped; it happened to be the ten-year anniversary of the day he had got his pilot's licence. He did seem a little nervous, though, when I told him I had just had lunch and he pointed out the folded wax bags tucked into the aircraft's side pocket as I got in.

I rode in the front, with a panel of dials and knobs before me, and Scott sat behind me at the controls. I grabbed the safety harness when the tow aircraft started its engines. In mere seconds, we were airborne, gaining altitude as the trees shrank beneath us.

Then we weren't attached to the tow aircraft anymore. We coasted through the air as Scott sought out thermals to ride. We floated up and he guided the aircraft into a gentle circle, following the current. As we flew below the cloud line, Scott played tour guide, pointing out the Appalachians, the Allegheny Plateau and tiny towns far below. We caught a couple more thermals, coasting for ten and then 15 minutes. "Are you ready to head down?" Scott asked, as we descended gently, the afternoon's thrill ride approaching the end.

Smooth ride

Then the trees started coming at us faster than I had expected and I felt my lunch lurching in my stomach. But we touched down with a whisper on the grassy field, Scott steered the slowing aircraft on to the runway and we stopped just outside the hangar.

Back in my car, I looked again at the autumn colours starting to dot the landscape, with fields of wildflowers and vines scaling tree trunks and walls. As I drove back through the mountains I had just flown over, I thought about their upcoming autumn colour show but also of their power: how sun-warmed air pockets, easterly winds and a well-placed ridge can turn a sailplane into a bird.