By Larry B. Fleming
First Flight
The birds were soaring, the engine was banging, the trike was rocking, and here I was on the first flight of my brand new Aeros Nano Trike (ANT). I had raced down the runway and leaped off the ground, climbing full throttle to 2,000 feet, tightly gripping the control bar, desperately looking down at my feet only to see blue sky everywhere. The nose was high and the engine was pushing me almost straight up into the sky. I learned later that I had ignorantly used a sketchy takeoff technique.
I had waited until late in the day to take my first flight so that conditions would be calm, but the air was thermally instead, and I was hanging on like a passenger, not a pilot. It was still too early in the afternoon for smooth air, and I was going to pay for my hasty choice to fly. I looked WAY down below at the paved, narrow runway, surrounded by a weed-infested field and saw my tiny stick-figure-looking friends standing beside my little Toyota hang-gliding truck. One of them was holding my half-empty gas can. I wondered how I was ever going to safely get this machine down onto that thin-looking black line of a runway. Trike flying was just different enough from hang gliding that I wondered if I had made a mistake in jumping into it. “I can always sell my new trike and get my money back,” I thought, “if I don’t break it!”
We had loaded and driven the trike to an old, seldom-used World War II training base; Sequoia Field near Visalia, California, for my first attempt at using my hang gliding skills for powered flight. My three hang gliding buddies of many years had come along to lend moral support and help pick up any pieces if things didn’t go well. I hoped that I would only need the moral support.
I have always dreamed of flying … of having a small airplane … of travel … of something I could afford, and I hoped this was it. My lifelong love of hang gliding is an attempt to make these dreams come true. Long distance cross-country flights in the Owens Valley come close, however hang gliding has mostly been about trying to get high enough to glide around in a local area; triangles, out and returns, or just hanging out over the mountain. It is tough to just go someplace on a whim. The price of flying distance on a hang glider can be high; long waits, doubtful retrieves, late nights, loss of friends who get tired of coming after me, and an understanding wife who knows I will probably be coming home late for our night out, because, well, it was a great flying day. My friend, Dan, put it all into perspective one day. A new pilot asked him what it took to fly cross-country. Dan swept his arm in a wide arch, taking in all his possessions and said, “Do you see all this stuff? You have to be willing to leave it all behind.”
My brand-new Aeros ANT is a legal Part 103 ultralight; same classification and rules as a hang glider. It promised to be a new way into the air; a convenient, economical, sure way to fly far, far away; the lazy man’s way to sightsee and look around at an ever-changing view, a motorcycle in the sky. But first, I had to learn how to ride this new machine. I needed to get comfortable and learn how the ANT differed from my hang-gliding experience.
After an hour of aborted landing attempts; throttle on, throttle off, over-control here, pilot-induced oscillations there, and climbing back up to safe altitudes to think things over, I finally bounced in on a hard landing with the urging of my friend, waiving the gas can to remind me that I was almost out of fuel. I had only put in 1.5 gallons because I had planned for a short, easy flight with a quick takeoff and landing, not an hour of drifting back and forth, barely over the runway, and holding on while rocking in thermals as I climbed out yet again for more attempts to get down smoothly.
Prying my cramped hands from a death grip on the control bar gave me time to reflect and I was highly concerned. This was not the easy climb-in-and-fly experience I had expected. I was scared and wanted to go home.
The Air Turns Smooth Like Butter
“HEY LARRY, THE AIR IS LIKE BUTTER NOW. LET’S GO AGAIN!” yelled my enthusiastic paramotor/paragliding/hang gliding friend, Ryan, who had flown up to help coax me down. Yes, “going up again” gave me lots to think about, as I sat in the trike’s seat and looked at the bright, eager faces of my friends who wanted to see more of the show; more action. I looked deep into my soul and decided that if I stopped then, I would find reasons to stop forever. I thought about all the effort and money I had spent. I wondered about the new skills I needed to learn for this new type of flying. I also thought about my lifelong dreams of flying, and then, I turned on the engine for more attempts, which eventually ended with very smooth takeoffs and landings. I came away from that first day knowing that I had a lot to learn, especially about the particular engine that I had chosen for my ANT.
Nano trike flying differs from hang gliding mostly in one respect; the power source that keeps the aircraft up and flying. In hang gliding the pilot must use great skill in finding thermals and ridge lift to soar for long periods of time. The sun provides the power. Knowledge of air currents and thermaling technique allow the pilot to soar and sometimes travel distance with the sun’s power.
Nano trikes are powered by engines, as well as being affected by air currents. Mechanical knowledge and skill with two-stroke engines is very important. The engine is the heart of a trike, and its health is determined on the ground in a workshop.
I had no idea about engines and how many important mechanical parts are on a trike, and how critical it is to have reliability. I was about to begin my journey to becoming a motor-head. Landing out — off-airport — with the ANT is fairly easy, however there are still challenges; power lines, fences, tall grass which can hide wheel-grabbing stuff, and inconvenience. My main goal was to fly cross-country, so it was important to have a dependable engine.
My First Unpredictable Engine
My first engine was advertised as one of the best ultralight engines out there, unfortunately the one that came with my trike had many problems, starting with air leaks which caused a very lean condition. The first time we started it, we heard banging and found melted metal balls on the white-hot spark plug. The engine had been moments away from blowing a hole in the piston and wiping itself out. I could not believe that a new engine could have such problems and began to learn about two-strokes with the help of my motorcycle/mechanic friend.
After asking for help and receiving little to no response from the engine manufacturer, I reached out to people with experience with this engine. With much help I went from total ignorance of two-strokes to become a “Motor-Head;” I learned about octane booster, EGTs, needle position, high-speed jets, low-speed jets, air screw positions, air leaks, safety wires, float levels, cyclone bearing tests, compression tests, in-flight engine stops for spark plug readings, air leaks in base gaskets, and warped reed valve mounts. It has been a very practical learning experience for me as the test pilot. That unpredictable engine and I had a love/hate relationship. This is not the reliability I was looking for. I often found myself many miles away from my home field with an engine surging, or running too rich, or running too lean, and then suddenly running okay, just as I had located an emergency landing spot.
After hundreds of hours trying to get that original engine to run right, I finally gave up and now have a better engine from a very different manufacturer; a Cosmos 300 built by Vittorazi Motors. It is like having a sweet wife with great in-laws. It runs reliably smooth and comes with great factory support. It was finally time to enjoy the ride.
Really Flying Now
I have been adopted and helped along by my local EAA Chapter 376 at Sierra Sky Park. My little flying machine waits in line for its turn on the runway, right along with the big boys in their fast airplanes. The local chapter has helped me with storing my ANT at the small, local airport near my home. Everyone there has welcomed and helped me along with powered flight. I am proud of my new friendships.
The ANT folds into a small package, which uses very little space and can be easily rolled into a hanger, garage, or storage unit. It can be set up and ready to fly in 15 minutes. I am now flying around and playing in the air as I dreamed. The ANT has also led me into some great adventures.
I have flown it on thermally days and used my hang gliding skills, along with my engine on low power, to climb and glide cross-country, downwind for many miles looking for more lift. I have flown gentle evening breezes to soar local ridges that I could never fly before because they are behind locked gates. I simply power up and fly home when finished. My advanced hang glider has more performance than my nano trike, but the ANT opens more possibilities for a variety of flight experiences; ease, convenience, a degree of soaring ability, and easy long-distance flights.
My ANT has also opened doors for me to meet aviation people from all over the United States and world. One new friend and I flew his SunDancer powered sailplane from Madera, California, to North Platte, Nebraska, to watch the total solar eclipse in 2017. We played with thermals in the center of Nevada just for fun as we hopped across the country, visiting friends along the way. “We fly where the sun don’t shine,” was our motto.
I fly into local aviation events with the ANT and it really draws attention because it is so unique. The ANT has led to an expanded social life and more friendships.
One of these new friendships brought a phone call which would fulfill another dream; a trip to Oshkosh for AirVenture. Rick Martin, the U.S. distributor for Aeros Nano Trikes, asked me to be his guest and fly demonstration ultralight flights in front of thousands of spectators.
Overwhelmed at Oshkosh
I closely followed Rick’s huge RV, with its tall, long trailer, as it pulled into the shopping center parking lot. We were on our way to set up Rick’s Aeros booth at Oshkosh and had stopped for supplies. A cartoon-like drawing of a huge, smiling pig adorned the top of a supermarket roof. Rick Martin, my host in Wisconsin, climbed out of the RV and said, “Thought we should stop at the Piggly Wiggly to get some supplies for the week.” I was soon to find many forms of “pig” in the state; food, statues, posters, and on and on. I remember wondering if a pig was the state’s mascot. When I asked Rick about why there was so much pork around, he replied “Can’t get a good beef steak in Wisconsin. We use our cows for cheese.” I was astounded that there was such a huge market dedicated to a pig and began my introduction to some of the favorite foods and traditions in Wisconsin; fried cheese curds, Friday night fish fries, brats, cheese, bacon, beer, and Rick’s ultimate treat; barbecued brats wrapped in bacon with cheese injected into them.
As I stood dumbfounded, looking at long aisles of Wisconsin cheese, Rick came wheeling around a corner; the shopping cart fully loaded with his favorite Wisconsin beer, “I hate to run out of this stuff at Oshkosh,” he said with a wink, smile, and nod.
Rick had kindly picked me up at O’Hare Airport in Chicago days earlier and driven me to his home in Palmyra, a small town where everybody knows everyone else, even me. Word had spread around town about “Larry the trike pilot from California.” Rick and his wife, Sharon, and their friends soon became mine. I was a guest in their home, which meant I was a special and welcome friend in Palmyra, a place with no traffic lights, a two block downtown, and a grass airstrip. It is a very special place with fish fries, music on main street, a high school band, Friday night football, and incredibly nice people, all within walking distance. A steady stream of Rick and Sharon’s friends seemed to drop by at all times of the day and evening; breakfast, lunch, dinner, lend a hand here, help with something there, have a bite there, or join in for a walk downtown for an event.
This continued even at the air show, with one of my host’s closest friends, Rick Jelinek, appearing unexpectedly often, usually bringing something. “Thought we might have a barbecue,” Rick Jelinick would say as he unwrapped the hamburger meat he had brought along.
We had several days before the air show, and we used the time to prepare. The Aeros ANT I was to fly was still basically in the shipping box. We unpacked it, assembled it, mounted the Vittorazi Moster 185 engine, prepared by Aeros on their standard quick 5-minute installation frame, and I test flew it; no sweat … from the factory in Kiev … unpacked in Palmyra … and now … ready for the show.
I had asked to fly the ANT into the air show just before opening day so that we would have less to haul in and I could also have an adventure. Rick agreed and put me into contact with Jim Pfarr, the leader of an ultralight group that was also flying into Oshkosh.
The plan was to fly the ANT from Rick’s home airfield in Palmyra, Wisconsin, to Hartford, Wisconsin, join up with Jim’s flight of other ultralight aircraft, and then on into the air show at Oshkosh, flying as a group. My total distance would be about 90 miles with a flight time of two hours. Another one of my dreams was about to happen; I was going to fly a small, lightweight aircraft to a destination far away, over a fairy-tale-like landscape. This little trike was my transportation to a meeting place for aircraft arriving from all over the world.
I departed Palmyra early in the morning and arrived at Hartford to join up with the other ultralights. The group decided to let me leave first since they all cruised faster than the ANT and we wanted to stay together. However, as I lifted off from one runway, I saw the tails of everyone else in front of me as they departed from another. I would be following, not leading. I watched my group slowly leave me behind, probably never to be seen again. I was alone above beautiful and unfamiliar Wisconsin, following the purple line on my trusty GPS, which led the way to Oshkosh. There was a headwind above 2,000 feet, and a tailwind below 1,000 feet. I chose the tailwind and enjoyed the sights down low; forests, lakes, green fields of soybeans, golden fields of wheat, windmills, the smell of dairy cows, and small, picturesque towns nestled here and there. There were airplanes galore flying above me. I spotted a huge military helicopter a mile west, whop-whop-whopping along at my altitude. We were all on the same course flying to the same busy place!
Upon arriving in the airspace of Oshkosh, I made sure to stay at 300 feet above the ground as instructed. As I neared the airport, my GPS screamed at me that I was there, but I could not figure out where anything was. I had studied maps and visited the ultralight field the day before for a good look around, however the pattern height for ultralights was low and trees blocked my landing view. I had hoped to follow the other guys in, but I had lost those fast guys back at Hartford. I continued flying north until I decided I had gone too far, when I saw a crowded shopping center up ahead, forbidden airspace for an ultralight. After turning around, I saw the flash of an ultralight wing turning and disappearing behind a tall row of trees; “There must be my LANDING FIELD!” I reasoned with a smile as I recognized and followed the established pattern into the ultralight field.
Landing on the grass field was a real show; crowds of spectators, friendly Oshkosh volunteers welcoming me and directing me where to taxi, and lots of other ultralights moving about. “Oh, there’s Jim Pfarr and my group,” I thought, “Hey guys, I thought I lost you.” It turned out that they had flown high in the headwind, while I had flown low in the tailwind, so we had arrived about the same time. I had only spotted the last guy by chance as he was turning into the field.
Spectacular Oshkosh
The week at Oshkosh was a whirl. The busiest airport in the world during that week, filled with tents, motorhomes, and people camping under the wings of their airplanes. It was a pop-up city. Every day brought spectacular spectacles; airplanes and jets zooming, fireworks (including a huge wall of fire), a line of glowing hot air balloons, lighted paramotors flitting about in the soft evening air like fireflies, and aircraft galore.
There was always something going on in the small intimate ultralight area. I saw airplanes hanging on their props, noses high, as their engines screamed in an attempt to climb out during the short takeoff and landing contest. There were ultralight helicopters, hovering and whirling around just above the ground as they manipulated plastic cones with their skids.
The fixed-wing ultralights flew demonstration flights twice a day, morning and late afternoon. What a joy to climb out above a notch in the tree line at the end of the field and join with all the other guys flying around the pattern to come back around in 15 minutes to see unique aircraft banking up and turning out of the giant square pattern for landing. Other aircraft continued whirling on by for another trip around, while more took off to join the brotherhood, a choreographed dance. Volunteers down on the field were keeping order, watching for landings and waiving the okay for takeoffs, as ultralight aircraft lumbered forward in line waiting their turn to launch, climb, and join.
The week went all too fast, and I was sad to leave the camaraderie of my new friends. I had flown into Oshkosh and I hoped to fly the ANT out, directly back to Palmyra. Rick was okay with that.
Flying Home
We woke up that Sunday morning to see a steady north wind. My hang gliding sense told me that wind early in the morning often increased and became rowdy later in the day. I was concerned about rough conditions for the flight out of Oshkosh. After dithering about for a while and seeing a favorable weather report, I decided to fly. Takeoff and climb-out was gnarly, encouraging me to abort the flight. However, as I looked back in the turbulent air, I saw a red flag flying in the field. The runway was now closed! I had to fly somewhere else, so I headed downwind, figuring I would just go for Rick’s home 90 miles away. Thermals were beginning to lift off for the day and they were ratty down at 300 feet, where I had to fly until leaving the Oshkosh airspace. I climbed out above 2,000 feet many miles downwind, hoping to find smoother air. Instead, I found hundreds of airplanes at altitude, all around me, also leaving the air show. My 42-mph airspeed made me feel like a bug waiting to splat on a windshield when compared to the 200-mph speed of some of the other aircraft around me, so it was back down low for some more rock and roll.
It was like a turbulent hang gliding day in Owens Valley; wings rocking; 800 feet per minute up to a cloud street that was forming and then falling just as fast, down … down to a few hundred feet above the ground, with the engine screaming to keep the machine in the air. The wind had increased and pushed me along with a ground speed of 65 to 70 mph. The flight went fast with that tailwind and soon I was preparing for a rowdy crosswind landing on the grass runway of Palmyra airport. After landing, taxiing to Rick’s hanger, and shutting down the engine, I was surprised to see no signs of the turbulence I had just experienced. I sat quietly there watching the gently fluttering leaves on the trees and listening to the singing birds; a peaceful, calm scene. I could see my host’s home in the distance, set in a huge grass lot with trees. I reflected happily on my past week’s adventure at the air show and thought about new friends, who I may not ever see again. I had come a long way; from learning to fly an ultralight at an old, deserted World War II airfield to participating in the most famous air show in the world.
Although I continue to fly hang gliders, my flying has expanded with the ANT. A whole new world has opened up … a world with the sound of engines, of distance flying, of social activities surrounded by general aviation, and much more. I continue to learn, have fun, and meet people from all around. My hang gliding friends talk about midday thermals, smooth evening soaring, and soft landings. My airplane friends talk about climb rates, engines, and fuel use. I guess I live in both worlds now; hang glider pilot and motor-head. What a great life!
Larry Fleming has flown hang gliders for 50 years, beginning in 1974. He has more than 4,000 hours of airtime in hang gliders and around 400 hours in ultralight trikes. This short story relates the experiences of the author and should not be used as an instruction guide. Anyone wanting to learn how to fly an ultralight aircraft should take lessons from a qualified instructor.