Ice Cream

How do you explain gliding to someone who has never experienced it?

Gliding over Fuji River with Mount Fuji in the background.

Many years ago, I went kayak surfing with a friend of mine at a beach near Hamamatsu City in Japan. After a few waves, my friend and I decided to take a break. He turned to me and asked, “Aren’t you learning to glide?” He wasn’t talking about gliding technique in a kayak; he was talking about gliding in a glider—a plane with no engine.

After I answered, “Yes,” he became quiet for a moment, the way people do when thinking about very serious problems, such as the very best combination of pizza toppings to have on the pizza they are about to order.

“What’s it like?” he asked.

I probably became quiet for a moment myself then. After a few minutes, I answered.

“Ice cream,” I said.

My friend gave me a look that only a friend can give you when they are sure that you are mercilessly teasing them. Someone who is not your friend in similar circumstances will simply try to strangle you.

“If you had to explain the experience of ice cream to a person who had never tasted it, what would you say?” I asked.

My friend agreed it would be challenging, particularly with delicious, exotic flavors. Somehow the words sweet or cold don’t quite get you there.

To understand ice cream, you really need to try some.

I looked at the time. It was still early in the morning. “Want to go gliding right now?” I asked.

“NOW?” my friend asked. I had never noticed his eyebrows at such a height before.

“Yup,” I answered. “ Now. Let’s go.”

So we drove for a bit more than an hour and arrived at a small runway by Fuji River. That is where a flying club gathers every Sunday.

If you go to a flying school or club, there is usually an introductory flight for newcomers to give them a taste of flying. It helps them decide if they would like to learn to fly. The orientation flight is usually less than $100. Considering the expense of airplane gas, that is very reasonable.

After greeting the members of my club, I asked the head instructor if my friend could have an orientation flight. He looked at his watch, glanced over at the remaining names on the roster of people who were going to fly that day, turned to me, and said, “Yes, sure. We have lots of time today.”

My friend was given a brief introduction to the features of the glider. Then someone showed him how to get into the cockpit. He was then buckled in with shoulder straps. When the crew lowered the canopy, he was wedged into a small space surrounded by plexiglass.

The 360° view is spectacular.

A couple of guys connected a rope to the front of the glider. They then connected the other end of the rope to the tow plane—a yellow Piper Cub, a small plane popular with bush pilots.

Everything was now ready.

The expression on my friend’s face was now an odd mixture of excitement and apprehension. You wouldn’t have known he’s actually quite a fearless, adventurous person. I could see that the instructor behind him was saying something. Then my friend, following the instructor’s signal, gave a thumbs up to notify the ground crew that he was ready for takeoff.

The engine of the Piper Cub revved up to full throttle. The rope became taut, and the glider began to move down the runway. Almost immediately, it was airborne. I watched my friend take off and rise into the sky. The glider ascended to around 2000 feet. It was the size of a child’s toy. Around then, he would have been told to pull a lever down by his seat on the left side. This is the lever that releases the rope connecting the glider to the tow plane. Then you are in free flight. There is no engine sound—only the sound of the air rushing over the glider. Sometimes, if you find an updraft, it is possible to stay aloft for hours. Usually, in an orientation fight like this one, the instructor will keep close to the departure point and return in less than an hour.

I waited for my friend to return to the ground.

The glider landed on its single wheel, coasted down the runway, and came to a stop. The crew helped my friend get out. He stood up, stretched, and then walked towards me.

Gliding is an amazing experience. When my university students ask me what experiences I have had that really impressed me, I say that the first time I went scuba diving was amazing, but it was the first time I went gliding in front of Mount Fuji when it was covered with snow that I was nearly moved to tears.

But some people are afraid of high places or cramped spaces, so I was concerned about my friend’s first flight. Was it exhilarating and splendid, or only frightening? I couldn’t wait to find out.

When he walked over to me, I asked him, “Well, how was your flight?” He smiled an enormous smile at me.

“Ice cream,” he said.