Reflections at Six G's

Closing the canopy, I run through the checklist one last time. Okay. Thumbs up, wings level, towrope taut, wiggle the ruddervators. Now, stick forward as the towplane accelerates. Ease the stick back slowly and fly. Stay low until the tow plane establishes a positive rate of climb and then fly the slot on tow ready to land straight ahead until we reach 200 feet. There's 200, okay, now commit to a return to the airport if the rope breaks. At 1,000 feet and a solid 600 feet per minute climb rate, I check over the right wing for the show line.

We are climbing over Bowling Green, Kentucky and 30,000 people are below. I'm the next act after the Aerobatic Swift, just before the F-117 fly-by. This is the last show of the 1992 season for the Redtail Salto Team. It's been a successful airshow season; ten shows spread over five months and four aerobatic competitions thrown in to make things interesting.

The crowd is a thick multi-colored mass 50 yards deep along the half mile show line. They are the reason I'm here. People like airplanes and want to see entertaining performances that showcase the incredible capabilities of low-level unlimited category aerobatics. In a few minutes, when I release off tow at show center they will be looking at me, watching, waiting to be entertained. This is what it all comes down to, all the practice flights learning and perfecting unlimited maneuvers, all the work hauling to and from show sites, all the work selling my act to promoters. It all comes down to six minutes at show center.

Some of them know what a good maneuver looks like and will be critical of mistakes. But most are simply awed that a plane can fly without an engine. Still, they will all be watching me, watching my flight, every error will be seen and noted, I'm alone on the high stage. Stage fright occurs, veteran actors are subject to it regularly, but for me, every person in this crowd is here to enjoy my flight, they are my audience, we are friends. I am here for them, but to fly for myself.

But please God, don't let me screw up.

Bank left, stay in trail behind the tow plane with short, precise control inputs. Start the turn into show center, ready. Okay, 6,500 feet and Showtime! Let's rock and roll! Release now and position above the show line a mile below. Turn the smoke on. Bleed off airspeed with aft stick. Stick back all the way and kick hard rudder at the stall. The nose goes over and down as we start the 1,500 foot spin series. Just ride along and observe as my ship, a German-made Salto, merrily rotates as her nose bobbles up and down relative to the horizon. Watch the altimeter unwind and get ready for recovery.

5,200 feet, now kick opposite rudder with forward stick. The Salto recovers from the eight turn spin in three-quarters of a turn. Check position. Yes! Right over show center, pull four g's until level into the wind and start my rolling 360 turn. The horizon whirls around again and again as I slow roll four times in 360 degrees of turn. What a trip! Slow rolls, to me, were always the epitome of quality aerobatics, now we do them in turns just for giggles.

Yet, I'm still surprised to find myself performing in airshows and competing as a member of the U.S. National Glider Aerobatic Team. For me, aerobatics were always the perfect expression of flight. When I discovered soaring, I knew that ultimately I would combine both experiences. But finding the Salto and later being invited into my first show were truly surprises. They fulfilled that little boy dream, a dream that as a child seemed almost impossible to realize. But dreams do come true it seems, and if I look back, there may have been a path of learning and experience that prepared me to take advantage of the opportunity when it knocked. The funny part is that opportunity sometimes comes upon you suddenly and without warning. Maybe that's why I am doing this, to show others that you can live dreams if you are willing to risk trying.

Learning to fly aerobatics is daunting though. At first, the sensations are incredible. The need for discipline and concentration intense. But each maneuver pushes back your limits raising the bar on your personal best. Soon, you discover that each new maneuver is nothing more than understanding and becoming comfortable with the control inputs needed for precise aircraft positioning. Eventually, even the negative four g outside maneuvers such as outside rolling turns, outside loops and outside snaprolls loose their aura of impossibility and come to be viewed as another challenging skill acquired. But the first time you go into a new corner of the flight envelope by yourself, you make sure you hold all the aces. Plenty of altitude, no traffic, all available knowledge assimilated with a "safe out" recovery maneuver if things go wrong.

Okay, now level smoothly after the rolling 360 turn and put the nose down. There's 120 knots so pull up into the half loop for sustained inverted flight. Look up, er, down through the canopy for show center and pull a 45 degree inverted dive. Upside down airspeed at 80 knots and now full forward stick with hard left rudder. There's the negative three g snap, hold the down line now and pull again twice more to complete the Cuban eight with outside snaprolls.

I always thought outside snaprolls would blow my eyes out, but the Salto is a pussycat and because of the camber in the airfoil negative snaprolls are actually easier. As a sailplane, the Salto is wonderful with light wing loading and a tight turn radius. Visibility out the bubble canopy is superb. The robust construction combined with sensitive controls instill confidence. The V-tail is undetectable from a piloting standpoint. The ship flies as if it had a vertical fin. For glider aerobatics and airshows, the Salto was the answer to my dreams.

The horizon is level now with airspeed at 90 knots so push until 110 and now pull to four g's. Watch the left wing tip until it's vertical, now hold and climb straight up until we stop. The wind noise over the canopy slowly abates...total silence. The ship begins to slide backward vertically on her tail. The nose seems to instantly swap ends with the tail as I am thrown upwards against the double harness as the negative g's try to throw me out of the cockpit. Plenty of altitude here unlike the Ohio Open Contest where my last maneuver is a tailslide at 500 feet. The judges disqualify the maneuver for flying 100 feet below the lower limit of the aerobatic box.

Now, vertical dive out of the tailslide and push negative until inverted, hold inverted flight until the far end of the show line, then half slow roll upright and pull at 110 knots to hammerhead to the left out of the vertical climb. Hammerheads are possibly the easiest aerobatic maneuver in a power plane, but the Salto's V-tail and lack of propeller blast requires a sensitive touch and precise airspeed control to properly pirouette vertically and fall back towards show center.

The final low aerobatics are actually not as low as it might seem since your attention is completely focused on the Here and Now. Don't be distracted by the horizon spinning above, below and around me since the best flying occurs with an almost detached observance of your performance. Trade airspeed for altitude and always remember where you want to position for the last maneuver.

But above all, remember that in a successful aerobatic airshow the number of times flown at the ground equals the number of times you miss the ground.

Pull level at four g's and slow roll to inverted as we accelerate. Dive inverted until 135 knots and 2,000 feet then push until negative four g's for an outside loop entered from below...This is always a test. I feel the blood forced into my head at four times body weight. The air schrieks around the canopy while the airframe buffets and shakes in the low level turbulence. All I can see in the 45 degree inverted dive is the ground filling my vision at an alarming rate. There's an intense urge to pull back on the stick and split-S out of this position. But I must resist this siren's call and push to enter the bottom of the outside loop holding negative four g's while my eyes try to pop out of my head up into the canopy.

Over the top now at 40 knots and half a g. Look over the nose as the earth fills the canopy again(!?) in the vertical dive and push to inverted. Remember, push slowly to avoid an accelerated inverted stall. We're low now and there's no room for a recovery. At the bottom of the outside loop, roll upright at 110 knots and pull into the Humpty (something nice and easy after all that negative stuff) and when on the vertical down line, half slow roll to position for show center.

Kentucky soybeans are less than 1,000 feet directly ahead accelerating towards me at the speed of gravity, so pull four g's, level and slow roll into show center, half barrel roll to the right, pull two consecutive six g loops while firing off the centerline smoke grenades and quarter roll on the second down line opposite to my entry heading.

We still have 600 feet, must be some lift in the airmass. Okay, final pass. Let's go for it. Push down to 400 feet and 100 knots, level off, focus on the horizon, and slow roll to upright at the end of the show line, pull vertical, then push negative zero g to a vertical down line, half slow roll and pull out above the soybeans screaming across show center at 120 knots. Squeeze down to ten feet above the surface and when at the other end of the show line pull to 300 feet for the reverse half-Cuban to land.

Short final. My airspeed and altitude are used up. Nice and easy now, this is where touch counts. If I bounce the landing, it is always the last thing the crowd sees. Watch the wind gradient, squeeze the stick back, expand awareness, feel the airmass, smooth on the controls. Now pop the drogue out, airbrakes out, hold her off, keep the tail up. She's down. Now taxi up to the crowd line, wing tip down, canopy open and wave as the announcer calls your name and the crowd applauds and whistles.

I'm pumped. I fly to the limits and the crowd loves it! The adrenaline is still racing through me and that silly grin I'm wearing just won't go away.

Moments later I climb out of my ship and show season 1992 is over. The drive back home to Sugarbush is 1,000 miles.

Back