Wings Upon the Wind

The sensation is shared by tens of millions of visitors from all over the world: To arrive at the rim of northern Arizona's Grand Canyon-to grow mental wings and to make imaginative flights among the splendrous mesas, ravines, cliffs, and spires. As Goethe might yearn, “. . . to throw myself into endless space and float above the aweful abyss.” Such temptations also tugged at William Moyes, a middle-aged electrical engineer from Sydney, Australia, as he reached the South Rim at dawn in July, 1970. He wondered what it would be like to launch himself off the vertical limestone edge, skim along the Tonto Plateau, dive into the Inner Gorge, and land near the roaring Colorado River. Then, unlike all his millions of predecessors, Bill Moyes turned fancy into reality. As sunlight splashed across the multicolored canyon, he quickly assembled a contraption weighing but 35 pounds, made of a few tubes of aluminum, some steel cables, a Dacron sail and harness. At 6:30 that morning Moyes plunged over the precipice, and with perfect control flew as a bird among the mounts and crevasses to his announced destination a friendly flat at Phantom Ranch, “the world's most remote resort,” at the very bottom of the Grand Canyon. There Moyes set down lightly as a feather, just eight minutes later. He had covered 4.7 miles while descending 4800 feet.* Of questionable judgment, the stunt gained Moyes little fame and no fortune. Moyes' team of photographers greatly underexposed their color film. And by a quirk in human nature, the public in 1970 simply was not ready to believe that nature and technology was in the process of creating this planet's 8,601st species of living bird, Homo sapiens volans. The purely human flier. But soon the world would know. The newest bird was conceived in the wind tunnels of America's space laboratories. It hatched “Down Under,” bred great flocks on the California beaches, and rapidly spread its population to six continents. Perhaps no sport ever grew, from scratch, so fast as hang gliding. In 1970 there were fewer than a hundred hang glider pilots in the world; now, three years after its founding, the United States Hang Gliding Association (USHGA) counts approximately 16,300 members, the majority of them pilots. The hang gliding movement has extended to Europe, to the Far East, to all the Americas. Flights from mountains succeeded off Hawaii's Haleakala, off Japan's Fuji, off Europe's Mont Blanc, off California's San Jacinto, off Colorado's Pikes Peak, off Arizona's Camelback. The new bird mastered endurance flying (the current record is 14 hours plus), aerial maneuvering, ground skimming, balloon dropping (from as high as 22,500 feet), and safe and accurate landings. Yet the greater story is not told in these spectacular flights. More revolutionary, only within the past several years has it become possible for large numbers of able-bodied people to go flying in inexpensive craft, without need of a license. In short, a dream older than history has come true. Myths and legends abound of humans aspiring to go aloft. The earliest notions were not of bounding among the craters of the moon, or flying faster than the speed of sound, or riding an upholstered chair behind a whirring fan.

Rather, the Ancient Greeks imagined Icarus with feathered wings. Visions of birds inspired Leonardo da Vinci's sketches of flying machines, which in turn influenced the first practical aeronautical designers: John J. Montgomery, Otto Lilienthal, Octave Chanute. The brothers Wright emulated the gulls of Carolina until that blustery day some seven decades ago when they complicated their glider with a sputtering engine. And thereafter, earthlings of a mechanical age followed the Wrights, leaping from Kitty Hawk to Tranquility Base within a human lifespan.

Few clung to the original notions of self-flight. Those who ascended in bags of gas experienced silence and height at the expense of agility and convenience. Skydivers who for fleeting moments achieved hurtling aerobatics were obliged to go up as prisoners of power and return to earth as parachutists. Soaring, too, departed birdlike flight in 25,000-dollar sailplanes with closed cockpits and artful airfoils and panels of instruments. Into the last third of the twentieth century, simple, avian flight for the masses remained as remote as the fable of Icarus.

Two chaps deserve major credit for revitalizing elemental aviation Francis Rogallo and Bill Bennett, thoroughly different in intent and technique, and separated by half a world.

Dr. Rogallo, the meticulous scientist, is an American, now retired. He worked in the 1950s at Langley Research Center in Virginia as an aeronautical engineer; on his own time he tinkered with lightweight, collapsible canopy/gliders for carrying cargo.

Came the space race, and Rogallo wings filled dozens of needs. They were dropped from airplanes and rockets, were towed and powered, and were given payloads and deployed 40 miles up. At one time, until the hardware grew gigantic, NASA thought to return rocket boosters to earth on Rogallo gliders.

In these years Bill Bennett, daredevil, was experimenting in Australia with flat, grossly unstable kites, by towing them behind motorboats and speeding them down ski slopes.

"If we ever did anything right in those days," recalls now-Californian Bennett, "it was because we did everything wrong beforehand. If our test flights were over hard ground, we'd have died a thousand times. Instead, we crashed in the water and snow. In the process we learned something about control."

By the time Bennett and his Aussie mates laid hands on plans for a Rogallo wing, they were ready with a pilot's harness and control bar. Unquestionably, it was Bennett who launched hang gliding as a people's sport. He leaped over the Golden Gate Bridge to land on Alcatraz. On Independence Day, 1969, his spiraling tour of New York's Statue of Liberty earned him a stern reprimand from the harbor police. He dropped to below sea level in Death Valley from a mile-high mountain.

Perhaps the two most sensational of Bennett's early astonishments occurred in Arizona. For an oil company television commercial he took off by water skis from Lake Mead's Echo Bay in May, 1970. The tow car hurried 34 miles to Callville Bay, where Bennett splashed down safely.

The Ancient Greeks imagined Icarus with feathered wings.

Bennett upstaged everybody's scene at the dedication of London Bridge in western Arizona's Lake Havasu City in 1971. Speeding down Lake Havasu in a powerboat, Bennett's buddies payed out 7000 feet of towrope as the "Australian Birdman" zoomed to 2960 feet, an altitude record at the time. Then, putting cricks in 50,000 necks, Bennett flew over the crowd, circled the main tent, and landed on target at the base of the bridge. Three hundred pigeons, 30 skydivers, and one hot air balloonist ate their hearts out.

All the consequences of the "flyingest" flying have not been glory and satisfaction. "Aviation has made the world smaller and smaller," goes an old saying, "but it's still impossible to miss it if you fall." Since the pilot of a hang glider is also the landing gear, misadventures can result in the crashingest crashing: about 75 fatalities nationally through 1974 and 1975, and enough injuries for doctors to rate hang gliding "as comparable in danger to hot-dog skiing."

Critics have demanded that the sport of hang gliding be sternly regulated, even outlawed. While deploring the casualties, the USHGA has answered with pleas for perspective, noting that at present more than Another point is argued that thus far, hang gliding has not wiped out the first ten rows of spectators at Turn Four. Approximately 4000 Americans perished in a recent year while motorcycling. Injuries by lawnmowers in this country total 50,000 annually, and probably 100,000 Americans were seriously injured by slipping on waxed floors and throw rugs. Of the 50,000 yearly motor vehicle fatalities, how many are associated with recreation?

Safety is the strongest theme of USHGA's handsome monthly magazine, Groundskimmer. In a USHGA-sponsored program, pilots are certified by a cadre of experienced observers and examiners. Most recently, Safety Director R. V. Wills lectured his hang gliding friends, "More than any other factor, the future of hang gliding may depend on the accident rate in the sport. The media seize upon every major accident and seem to regard the sport as ultrahazardous. Whether future qualified individuals may experience the joy of free flight will probably depend to a large extent on how today's fliers measure up to the demands of the sport. It is a demanding sport, not for everyone."

Traditionalists within the National Park Service last year nearly succeeded in banning hang gliding from its 300 jurisdictions. Such a ban would be arbitrary and discriminating, pilots complained. After all, bike racing, cross-country skiing, motorboating, snowmobile touring, pool swimming, and golf are permitted in areas within the parks system. And as Lloyd Licher (past president of USHGA) contended, "No injuries have been recorded from the thousands of hang gliding flights that have been made at Yosemite National Park, but in the time [hang gliding] has been allowed there, eight people have been killed while rock climbing in that park."

A million hang glider flights take place annually in the United States alone. Perhaps hang gliding will progress toward safety, as did scuba diving, which at first took a heavy toll of nature's newest species of fish. By contrast, methodical Scripps Institution of Oceanography has sponsored 60,000 dives in all the world's seas, without an accident. Fortunately, Arizona's hang gliding safety record has been exceptionally good.

"I credit this to the mature attitude of most of the state's pioneering pilots," says Charlie Lutz, maybe the first Ari-zonan to fly. "We were determined to learn from the mistakes of people in other areas. We're like a big family. We try to take care of one another." But a Phoenix pilot who spurned expert advice on how to tune his homemade kite was killed in a gliding crash.

The first site regularly flown in Arizona was Shaw Butte in north Phoenix. Not long afterward glider pilots claimed "A" Mountain, providing a 500-foot drop near downtown Tucson. It was at Shaw Butte that Mark Clarkson in a rigid-wing hang glider gained an astounding 5700 feet above his takeoff point, and flew 17 miles cross-country.

Powered flight and soaring ever has found friendly skies in Arizona. Hang gliding is enhanced by the same advantages: generally mild winds, fair climate, long spells between storms. And although Californians and Coloradans might disagree, Arizona pilots boast of the best and most flying sites. Well-scattered mountains surrounded by flat landing zones abound on lands administered by the Forest Service and Bureau of Land Management, not so stuffy about the "non-conforming uses" which seem to startle guardians in the National Park Service. (Would that Major Powell in 1869 had explored Grand Canyon with a hang glider, instead of a boat!) Proving once again that all frontiers are not conquered, Charlie Lutz spent much of 1974 searching out hang gliding sites in Arizona. He and Wilson "Jim" Baker tested drops of 600 and 1000 feet on the north end of the Empire Mountains, 20 miles east of Tucson. Splendid ridge soaring exists along a 1200-foot descent near the ghost town of Helvetia. Red Mountain, with a 2020-foot drop, is flyable no matter what the wind direction. The French Joe site in the Whetstone Mountains of Cochise County provides 1600 feet of altitude from launch to touchdown. At the price of a 50-mile drive, pilots of superior skill have tested the 4500 vertical drop of Mount Graham. With maps, advice, and details, Baker wrapped up his discoveries in Hang Gliders Guide to Arizona, a hip pocket paperback published by Sonoita Soaring Association (Post Office Box 261, Sonoita, AZ 85637, $4.95).

Baker now runs a flight school. Other instructors operate out of Phoenix and Flagstaff. For a beginner the painful alternative is to try to learn from a friend in the Hard Knocks School of Applied Physics. So many injuries tend to happen to fledglings, the recommended procedure is ground school (including flight simulation) followed by plenty of low-altitude flying until control is perfected. "With so many fine flying sites," says Baker, "Arizona is considered a flying heaven by pilots in the Middle West and East, and California. But we're aware that the Arizona air and terrain are different from what they know. We encourage all visitors to check in with some of us before flying." Many of Arizona's best pilots are members of the Arizona Hang Glider Association and the Southern Arizona Hang Glider Association.

The undisputed "super site" of Northern Arizona is a cinder cone called Merriam Crater, 25 miles northeast of Flagstaff on the Leupp road. Being symmetrical, the ancient volcanic peak is exposed to 360 degrees of wind. Landing zones are clear; some cindered areas forgive crash landings; often incredible lift is generated by the sun-warmed black cinders, creating updrafts. Merriam is the playground of accomplished pilots Chuck Rhodes, Clifton Bogie, Mike Elkins, and Ed Stewart. The better fliers have polished Merriam's dark shoulders for as long as six hours, and Rhodes once gained enough altitude to glide all the way to Grand Falls, about 10 miles away. What are the sensations of hang gliding? Otto Lilienthal, inventor, aeronautical engineer, and pilot of the last century, wrote "Can any sport be more exciting than flying? Strength and adroitness, courage and decision, can nowhere gain such triumphs as in these gigantic bounds into the air when the gymnast safely steers his soaring machine house-high over the heads of the spectators."

After soaring to nearly 3000 feet, Bill Bennett (left) makes his landing approach during the dedication of London Bridge at Lake Havasu City.

Scarlet wings against a deep blue sky. The sight alone is an unforgettable experience.

The last flight of the day (bottom) sailing into an Arizona sunset.

Mark Clarkson, first to fly a Quicksilver hang glider from Shaw Butte, pilots his craft to an open lot 800 feet below. Jean RikkulaOtto's latter-day kin say they can't quite put it into words, but they try.

Says one of the best male pilots, "It's the ultimate definition of freedom. All of your senses, all of your strengths, all of your intelligence and knowledge are stimulated to the extreme. There should be no ego involved no more than self-esteem for what you've accomplished, for yourself."

Says a young woman who flies, "It's more difficult for a woman. You have to be physically aggressive to launch. I don't mean big, strong, or totally athletic. You have to take command of yourself and your kite and then take command of the world around you. . . . women tend to be timid with the kite . . . but I overcame that weakness, and now, when I fly with my husband, the world is ours in a Generally mild winds, a fair climate, and numerous launch sites make Arizona an attractive center for hang glider enthusiasts. This kite was photographed in the Tucson area. Charles Van Meter The harness of this hang glider pilot will be checked by another flier before flight. James Harris Hang gliding is not only a participation sport; increasingly it is attracting throngs of spectators. How noble for a human to be a bird. But also how satisfying to be a watcher of such a bird.

Consider this testimony of one birdwatcher, on first sighting the newest flying species: "It stops your heart. It scrambles your mind. It totally destroys your logic." □□□

ARIZONA HIGHWAYS Indian Arts and Crafts

Now Available!

A new, colorful 176-page hardbound edition of the beautiful arts and crafts of the Indians of Arizona and the Southwest.

Edited by Clara Lee Tanner, renowned authority on Indian arts and crafts

FIVE CHAPTERS:

Baskets by Jerold Collings, Kachinas by Barton Wright, Pottery by Richard Spivey, Weaving by Joe Ben Wheat, Jewelry by David Neumann, and Robert and Sharon Ashton Each chapter explores the history of the craft, its significance to the Indian today, and current trends in design and marketing. The text is authoritative, yet interestingly presented in layman's language, and supported with 250 magnificent color illustrations in the ARIZONA HIGHWAYS tradition. The book is 9 x 12 inches, has a handsome silver-embossed hard cover, a dust jacket, and is sturdily packaged for mailing.

$1750

Plus $1 additional for postage and handling

Order directly from: Book Department ARIZONA HIGHWAYS 2039 West Lewis Avenue Phoenix, Arizona 85009

Yours Sincerely Whoooops!

Editor: In the April 1976 ARIZONA HIGHWAYS there are illustrations on page 36 and page 41 which show the artist as "Frederick Remington."

The famous artist and sculptor was Frederic Remington.

If there is any question about the authenticity of the two pictures I suggest you have them vetted by an expert.

C. A. Grasselli II Wilmington, DE You are so right. Such errors make red-faced editors grow old quickly. The Editor

Inspiration

Editor: I would like to thank ARIZONA HIGH-WAYS for the instructions in photography. Let me elaborate. Three years ago I was given a subscription as a gift, to the magazine. I have been an amateur photographer for forty years. I enjoy everything about the magazine, but I started to study the photos of your tremendous masters of the lens. I've had no formal training in the field. I've studied everything the local library has to offer.

My slides and pictures have improved so much since receiving the magazine. I study each photo in the magazine. It has improved my knowledge of composition and balance so very much. I like all of your regular photographers, they are all good. But my favorite is Mr. Joe Muench.

John W. Rampley Richmond, CA We agree that much can be learned about photography by studying the work of our leading contributors, some of the best landscape and scenic photographers in the world.

For certain, they inspire many persons to take up photography. They also inspire amateurs to become professionals, and inspire professionals to new levels of excellence.

Imitation is a form of flattery for our photographic contributors, but an attempt to imitate their work or style can often lead to frustrating results, because collectively these photographers represent hundreds of years of experience.

And finally, imitating an artist, photographer, or writer will only take one so far. Sooner or later, you must seek out and develop your own style and doggedly persevere through periods of rejection. The Editor

April Issue

Editor: I am a new subscriber to your beautiful magazine but a long time admirer of your gorgeous state of Arizona. Since I am a member of the Cactus and Succulent Society of America, the Desert Botanical Garden in Phoenix, and the Cactus and Succulent Information Exchange, the April issue of ARIZONA HIGHWAYS with its articles on desert plants and beautiful pictures will probably be my favorite of the year! However, I would like to see botanical names of plant species along with the common ones.

I would like to remind readers that many of our native plants are in danger of extinction. People should write to their state representatives for a copy of the Smithsonian Institution's Report on Endangered and Threatened Plant Species of the U.S. Almost every state has plants affected. Arizona has 64 plant species endangered and 58 threatened. Cacti are the most vulnerable group of plants with 26% of its species endangered and threatened. Other states could look to Arizona as a model for plant conservation, although Arizona still has work to do.Thank you for such a well done magazine.

Mrs. Peggy Woltosz Huntsville, AL Editor: As a dedicated reader and friend since '35, a subscriber since '57 I feel qualified to state the fantastically beautiful April issue the best ever!

Robert J. Stout Tustin, CA Editor: I have just received my April issue of ARIZONA HIGHWAYS. When I had reached the center of the magazine, I experienced an aching feeling in my heart, the result of having seen so much beauty concentrated in the previous pages. I have been a subscriber of Highways for ten years but I believe this issue surpasses in beauty all the issues to date. The beauty in this issue cannot fail to inspire any person fortunate enough to receive it. Thank you ALL for the obvious loving labor that has gone into you beautiful ARIZONA HIGHWAYS magazines. There should be coined a more appropriate name than "magazine" for it.

Mrs. Gladys Montgomery San Diego, CA

35mm COLOR SLIDES

This issue: 35mm slides in 2" mounts, 1 to 15 slides, 40¢ each, 16 to 49 slides, 35¢ each, 50 or more, 3 for $1.00. Allow three weeks for delivery. Address: Slide Department, Arizona Highways, 2039 West Lewis Avenue, Phoenix, Arizona 85009.

Inside Back Cover The serenity of a mountain lake at sunset.

George McCullough Back Cover Beautiful white trunked aspen flourish in Arizona forests above 7000 feet. David Muench