| shandapanda |
06-26-2005 02:59 PM |
A slim, graceful, long-winged craft arcs upward smoothly and steeply into the summer sky, accompanied only by the faint whistle of air accelerating past its gleaming surfaces. All eyes focus on the machine as it dwindles with each passing second - a surging aerial trout playing out yards of taut singing line. A tiny parachute blossoms and gently returns the shining nylon filament to earth. Someone hurries to pluck the blossom before it touches the ground and soon another, and then another sailplane seeks the sun. Little sound of movement is evident among the small group of pilots whose gazes pierce the sky. Yet there is tension and keen anticipation: all are alert for the tiny, almost indiscernible lift of a wing that signals a bubble of warm, rising air. Now, a turn begins and then at tightening sweep into the lift The pilot curves his obedient ship upward, betraying his or her satisfaction by just a hint of a smile and a noticeable relaxation. Minutes, or perhaps more than an hour later, the sailplane reappears at a lower altitude and is electronically grooved to a perfect landing on the grass at the feet of its once-remote master. Such a scene is repeated and recreated thousands of times during the soaring season all over the world by men and women of all ages and talents.
this is what i found....
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