Arty's Ultimate Ultralight Adventure

Thursday, April 9

When I fly my mind never wanders – I’m fully absorbed in the moment. I’m looking out for other aircraft, searching for good landing spots if something goes wrong with my engine, exalting in the wonder of being in the air, reveling in the scenery whether familiar or unfamiliar.

Yet two days ago, on the leg between Fabens and Van Horne, as I found myself grinning from ear to ear about this marvelous adventure, my husband Norm sprang to mind. Most people who know us can’t figure out how we’ve been so happily married for 45 years. (That’s not a typo – our 45th anniversary was 2-1-09.) Norm is calm, thoughtful, and well grounded. If things go wrong he doesn’t fly apart…he just figures out what to do. I’m the exact opposite – given to violent excesses of enthusiasm and irrational expectations, jumping into new situations before I get my bearings, sparking easily when angered or upset. Somehow, this marriage of opposites really works.

Norm isn’t enthusiastic about this flight. For several years he was adamantly opposed to it. He worries about my safety and he’d much rather have me at home. Although my work as a management consultant has always kept me traveling, sometimes for a week or more at a time, the only really long separations have been because of my flying trips. Yet each day when we talk, he’s always full of happiness for my joy, asking questions, never indicating that he wishes I’d decide to stop flying and just come home. I can’t imagine how I got lucky enough to find someone who can be so supportive of something he wishes wasn’t happening. So I just had to shout “THANK YOU, NORM!”

If this seems like a radical departure from what I’ve been posting, it’s partially in response to questions I’ve been getting…questions not only about the flight but also about who I am, in addition to being a flying nut. Most of the pilots reading this know me only through my posts on various pilot e-mail lists and through my blog. Yet no matter how our lives are filled with flying, none of us are one-dimensional characters.

So…a little background. Norm and I live on a small farm, 20 acres of pasture and 96 acres of forest, at the base of Mt. Hood in Oregon. We raise our own beef and lamb, and also have a llama, goat, horse, Great Dane and two cats. Norm has been retired for 9 years and is one of the busiest people I know, serving on the local school board, volunteering for Meals on Wheels, serving as treasurer for his local Kiwanis club and for a foundation for the blind.

Our son (only child) is a police officer as well as a professional photographer; his wife is an industrial engineer. They’ve given us the two most wonderful grandchildren in the world, 4-year old Jessica and 8 month old Wyatt. Happily, they live only an hour away and I get to see them every week. And I’m willing to arm wrestle anyone who thinks they’ve got more wonderful grandkids!

We also have other "kids" in Scandanavia - two in Denmark, one in Norway, and one in Sweden - former foreign exchange students who now are married and have children of their own. We're still very much involved in their lives and are fortunate enough to see them fairly frequently, either in Oregon or at their homes.

I’m often asked how I got into flying ultralights and light sport aircraft. Twenty years ago a friend of mine encouraged me to take a demonstration flight in a Quicksilver ultralight. I wasn’t in the air for more than 5 minutes before shouting into the intercom that I wanted to sign up for lessons. I remember driving home in a frenzied state of excitement, running into the house and shouting for Norm.
“Honey, honey, guess what!! I’ve just signed up for ultralight lessons!”
“You’ve just signed up for what?”
“Ultralight lessons! I start this Sunday with my first lesson. I have to be at the airport at 10:00 a.m.!”
“Ultralight lessons? What’s involved? Do you need your own plane?”
“No, I don’t think so. I just know I have my first lesson this Sunday and I have to be at the airport at 10:00 a.m.!”
“Well, how much does it cost?”
“I don’t know. I just have to be at the airport this Sunday at 10:00 a.m. for my first lesson!”
“How long will it take for you to learn to fly?”
“I don’t know. I just have to be at the airport this Sunday at 10:00 a.m. for my first lesson!”

Norm gave up. It was clear that the only thing I knew was that I had to be at the airport at 10:00 a.m. for my first lesson !!

I became addicted with my first flight, soloed on May 23, 1989 and have been addicted ever since. My other passions, in addition to my family and flying, are reading, white water rafting, gardening, and working on the farm with Norm.