[Before I go any further, I want to say that when I use the word “ultralight” I will always be referring to both legal ultralights, which meet FAR 103 criteria, and ultralight-type Experimental Light Sport Aircraft. Although the “high end” of Light Sport Aircraft now gets most of the press, I will always be writing about the “low-end” of E-LSAs…what used to be called “fat ultralights”. ]

When I think of flying I can’t do it without thinking of the ultralight community. It’s tightly knit, yet it’s always open to newcomers. You are “one of us” as soon as you declare your interest in ultralights. You don’t have to own one or even have ever flown one. Just your sincere interest is enough to be accepted. It is the experience of belonging. I’ve been the beneficiary of this community for many years.

When I first started taking flying lessons in 1988, Sandy River Airport was a somewhat ramshackle place, with deteriorating wooden open t-hangars. But there was nothing ramshackle or deteriorating about the welcome that you got once you started to hang around. And the open hangars allowed “lookie-lous” to wander in and out, gawking at these strange and dangerous-looking contraptions. Whether it was clear skies or raining or snowing, you were almost always likely to find someone puttering around, tightening bolts or replacing a bent tube or timing their engine. There’s always someone to talk to, to ask for help, to get – both solicited and unsolicited - advice.

Hangar flying is an art in the ultralight community. Since we fly VFR, and since our little aircraft aren't as weather tolerant as the "spam can general aviation machines", we spend a lot of time sitting under a wing or in a hangar, talking about our flying adventures. It's all I can do to keep a straight face when the stories get too flamboyant. And because telling tall tales is hard work, there's often food involved. Someone will drop by the local donut shop on their way to the airport, or bring some homemade zucchini bread. We gather for summer barbeques and pancake breakfasts. And there's always a potluck at our annual fly-in, where we have to time the competitive events so that they don't interfere with the pilots' ability to chow down!

Being “one of us” happens even when you’re a stranger. When I made the decision to fly my Maxair Drifter to Sun ‘n Fun, I put out the word over the Internet, via the four ultralight-related e-mail lists I subscribe to. I was overwhelmed by the response! Over 100 pilots from all over the country contacted me, offering to help me along the way. From getting gas to getting food to putting me up for the night in their homes – they reached out to me, a complete stranger, just because I was a fellow pilot, flying slow and slow across the country in a tube and fabric aircraft. My son, who is a deputy sheriff, was immediately suspicious. “Mom! You’ve got to be kidding! You’re going to get in a car with someone you’ve never met? Stay in the home of people you don’t know and have never heard of?” He just doesn’t understand the bond that flying an ultralight or an ultralight-type E-LSA creates.

Sandy River Airport is no longer ramshackle. The old t-hangars have been torn down and modern metal fully enclosed hangars now protect the aircraft from passers-by. But the community spirit still exists. Summer barbeques and pancake breakfasts, hot dog roasts around the huge fire pit that the new airport owners built, pilots gathering in old lawnchairs to swap tall tales. And it's not unique to our airport. As I flew cross country, I discovered that wherever ultralight pilots gathered, they had created community.

So if you’re thinking about flying, be aware that it will open up much more than the glory of flight. It will also open up a wealth of new friends, friends who will support and sustain you as you explore what flying is all about.

A bit about me: I’ve been flying ultralights and Experimental Light Sport Aircraft for twenty years. I soloed in a Sunburst ultralight in May, 1989. That sweet bird had a five gallon gas tank, 40 foot wings with spoilerons, a 28 hp Cuyuna engine, and a cruise speed of 32 mph. I flew it happily, often pushing it to its 40 mph limit since everyone I flew with flew much faster than I could. They were the “big boys” flying CGS Hawks, Flightstars, Quicksilvers, and other ultralight types.

Even though I was the only woman ultralight pilot in the area, (I’m based in Sandy, Oregon, which is in the northwestern part of the state, in the foothills of Mt. Hood,) I never felt excluded. I was welcomed as a new pilot and treated to all the jokes and teasing that are a rite of passage in our flying community. Since then, I’ve flown ultralights and Light Sport Aircraft in many different states and several other countries, and I’ve found the generous welcome of other pilots to be the same everywhere.

In 1991 I bought my Maxair Drifter, (a registered Experimental Light Sport Aircraft,) and have been flying it ever since. This past spring (2009) I flew it from Sandy, Oregon to Sun n Fun in Florida, and back to Oregon. It was seven weeks and 7100 miles. A life changing experience!

My husband and I live on an “Old McDonalds” farm, raising most of our own meat: beef, lamb, and goat. We also have two Great Danes, a llama, a horse, and two barn cats. Neither Norm (my husband,) nor my son Mark are pilots or have any interest in flying.

Fortunately, Norm is incredibly supportive of my flying addiction, or it would have been really difficult to do most of the long cross-country flights that I’ve done.

When I’m not flying, I’m a management consultant who works throughout the U.S. In speaking engagements and workshops, I use my ultralight flying as a metaphor to urge people to spread their wings and do more than they think is possible. You can find out more at www.LessonsFromTheEdge.com

In this Blog I want to share the joy you can have in any type of aviation, and encourage you to stretch your own wings.

I hope you enjoy reading my Blog and I especially hope we’ll have a dialogue as you respond with your own experiences.

Wishing you blue skies and calm air -
Arty