Monday, May. 17, 1982
Seat-of-the-Pants Flying
By Michael Demarest
Low, slow ultralights recapture the spirit of the Kitty Hawk
"It's part airplane, part motorcycle, part sailboat, and looks like a lawn chair being chased through the sky by a beach umbrella."
There have been more elegant descriptions of the gaudy, gawky new flying machines called ultralight aircraft, but none more accurate than this waggish observation. The plane that sounds like a low-calorie beer does resemble a plastic -and video-age version of the Kitty Hawk. Or, as a Tolkienian might put it, a petroleum-feeding pterodactyl. In any case, the planes are designed not to lodge beauty in the eye of the earth-bound beholder but, rather, to warm the soul of the seat-of-the-pants pilot. Put-putting along a few hundred feet up at 40 m.p.h. is not like any other kind of flying that has been available for six decades. Says Mike Circuit, 37, an ultralight instructor in Salt Lake City: "It's wind in the face, flying by the feel of it, like the old barnstorming days." Agrees fellow Utahan Ken Hurd, 42: "I've never had such excitement. In a small plane, you're enclosed. Here, you're like a bird. Everything constantly changes below you. I can't believe how things look. It's surreal."
The new ultralight's surge in popularity is almost surreal too. There are 10,000 to 15,000 in the air, about twice as many as there were two years ago. The 30-odd manufacturers of the Dacron-and-aluminum birds, which range in price from $4,000 to $6,000, expect to sell some $90 million worth this year. Unlike many outdoor fads, ultramania is not limited to the Sunbelt, although California, Arizona, Florida and Texas are strong states; the Midwest, particularly the St. Louis area, is also ultra country, possibly because the craft fares best over flat terrain.
To the average owner, who is 39 and male, the appeal of the ultralights is not entirely poetic. A typical flyabout, weighing around 180 Ibs. and powered by a 25-h.p. snowmobile or chainsaw engine, will cruise for two hours on a 3 1/2-gal. supply of regular gas. The Eagle ultralight gets 30 m.p.g. Some estimates put an ultralight's cost of operation at $2 an hour, vs. $10 for a conventional private plane. Under normal conditions, it is easy to fly, no pilot's license is required, and the aircraft does not have to be certified or inspected. (The ultralight grew out of the hang glider and, so far, has been regarded benevolently by the Federal Aviation Administration as a motorized kite.) One of the most popular models, the Weedhopper, costs less than $5,000 in kit form and can be assembled like a Tinkertoy in eight to ten hours. It then can be partly disassembled to be carried on a cartop to the takeoff point. The Weedhopper has a rudder and elevator controlled by a stick; there are no pedals. A floating-disc speed indicator is the only gauge. Takeoff consists of cranking the 3 1/2-ft. prop, revving the motor and pulling back on the stick. The aircraft can take off in as little as 30 ft. and land on a sandbar, a back lot, even a boat.
Many hang-glider aficionados have graduated from that hazardous sport to ultralights. Says ex-Glider Daryl Kutzler, 30, of Billings, Mont.: "Hawks will come play with you. It's the closest thing to flying with a pair of wings on your back." That kind of euphoria, unfortunately, can be fatal. There were 24 deaths in ultralights last year. Some manufacturers and dealers suggest that buyers take pilot's training, including flying time in a conventional light aircraft. Many would welcome a modicum of regulation, if only to discourage the loony birds. Experienced ultra pilots, on the other hand, have demonstrated that the craft is not only reliable but capable of remarkable achievements. New Jerseyan Jim Campbell, 25, set an unofficial altitude record of 21,210 ft. And on May 1, Campbell and Pat Trusty, 23, from Massachusetts, took off at 50 m.p.h. from Watsonville, Calif., for Washington, B.C., in two Pterodactyl Ptigers. They plan to fly round the world in about six months. Says Campbell: "What we have here is a plain old-fashioned adventure." --By Michael Demarest. Reported by Richard Woodbury/Denver
With reporting by Richard Woodbury/Denver
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