By: Barry Broughton, EAA 1513703
This piece originally ran in the September 2026 issue of EAA Sport Aviation magazine.
“Go! Go! Go!” our jumpmaster barked near the open door of the C-141 Starlifter transport aircraft. As I stepped out the door, the blast of jet engines hit me and hurled my body away from the airplane.
Dozens of olive-drab parachutes dotted the blue sky around me as paratroopers exited the side doors of the aircraft. The snap of my parachute catapulted me like a trebuchet back in the opposite direction. Seeking control of my chute, I pulled the right risers to my chest, using the exiting air of the canopy to divert me from colliding with the jumper below me.
Catastrophe averted, I scouted the horizon as the hot July air whooshed past my helmet. It wasn’t the close call or the thrilling high-speed exit from the aircraft that had my heart pounding. Itwas experiencing the in-between, where I felt suspended in time and completely present in the moment.
A decade after my last Airborne jump, I had a serendipitous meeting with a Quicksilver two-seater aircraft. Riding open-air in the right seat at 1,000 feet above the plains east of the Colorado Rockies, I saw a herd of pronghorn antelope grazing below us and a pack of coyotes darting for the wood line. With the snowcapped Pikes Peak in the distance, I felt as awed and fully present as I’d been during Airborne jumps, and I was overcome with the desire to fly my own airplane — a dream I’d had since childhood.
But, like many people, obligations and responsibilities took precedence for several decades. When I finally could consider flight training, I had no desire to acquire a private pilot or sport pilot certificate. The more I learned about flying under FAR Part 103, the more intrigued I became. The smaller operating envelope of ultralights, and their being more susceptible to wind and turbulence, would require me to be fully present and mindful, exactly the experience I was after.
I began an online ground school in late 2022 and then joined EAA. It proved difficult to locate a CFI in my area experienced in flying ultralight aircraft. Those I contacted were not interested in teaching someone who wasn’t seeking a private pilot or sport pilot certificate. While searching for a CFI, I was also narrowing down the type of ultralight I wanted to buy.
Whatever I bought would need to accommodate my 6-foot, 2-inch tall frame. My search took me to the 2023 SUN ’n FUN Aerospace Expo in Lakeland, Florida where I sat in, inspected, and perused nearly a dozen different ultralights. Since my dream of flying had been delayed 40 years already, I didn’t want to spend time building my own airplane from a kit. I wanted a ready-to-fly airplane with a time-tested design. Preferably a fixed-wing, tailwheel, tractor configuration, with three-axis control — and a stick rather than yoke. Essentially, I wanted something that looked, felt, and flew like an airplane but was capable of low-and-slow flight and required the energy management balancing act of an ultralight.
Unable to locate a CFI in my area experienced with the high-drag, low-inertia of ultralight flying, I traveled to Cave Junction, Oregon, in June 2023 and spent a week with CFI Wolf Emonds, EAA 1078898, of Captain Drake’s Family Aerial Adventures. Between rainstorms we were able to squeeze in about 11 hours of flight instruction over the beautiful, rugged terrain of southern Oregon and northern California in an Aeroprakt LSA and a Quicksilver L-S2S. Amid the full-immersion experience and the support of fellow student pilots at Captain Drake’s, I was hooked. But because of high winds during the training week, I didn’t yet feel proficient with my landings, especially knowing I wanted to buy a tailwheel airplane.
On my way home from Oregon, I stopped in Minnesota to pick up a Badland Aircraft F4 Flyer ultralight I purchased from Chris Deuel, owner of Badland Aircraft. After a thorough inspection and introduction to my new airplane, Chris performed a flight demonstration, flying low over the acres of corn behind the Badland factory. As I test-taxied the airplane up and down the 800-foot grass runway, my pulse raced in anticipation of my dream becoming a reality. We folded the wings back and secured them in place, then loaded Thor into a rented moving truck, and I headed back home to western New York state.
I spent the rest of the summer taxiing, getting familiar with the tail wheel and learning to fight the ground loop monster! The following spring I participated in the EAA Virtual Ultralight Days webinar series and gained a wealth of knowledge. In the interim, I discovered there were great things happening with the Michigan Ultralight Association (MULA) Flying Club. I reached out to the club CFI, John von Linsowe, and immediately joined the club. My first flight lessons with John were in conjunction with a ground school weekend event hosted at MULA’s home airport. I made the 13-hour round-trip drive several times to train in the M-Squared Breese 2 S-LSA, before finally soloing in the club’s Quicksilver MXL Sport.
As I took off during my first solo flight, departing Runway 18 in the single-seater, it felt as though I was climbing out on a rocket. Compared to flying with a CFI in the right seat, the lighter MXL Sport wanted to depart the ground post-haste. Before banking into my first solo crosswind leg, my mind raced with tasks: airspeed, check; rpm, check; altitude, check; breathe! Oh yeah. I sucked in a deep breath, my first since pushing the throttle fully forward, 400 feet below at the beginning of the runway.
Releasing a slow, controlled exhale, I could feel my body settle back in the seat of the Quicksilver. This was it. This was the sensation, the state of hyperpresence that I’d been seeking, and I reveled in the moment.
I remained in the pattern that day as I performed the three takeoffs and landings required of my first solo flight. On each downwind leg, I could see fellow MULA club members below, watching in support and anticipation. Excitement grew as I taxied back to the hangar. My CFI stood in the shadow of the hangar, wearing a wide grin that surely mirrored my own, waiting to cut off my shirttail!
I returned to Alkay Airport (51G) in Clio, Michigan, the home base of MULA, to fly the Quicksilver an additional eight hours before scheduling another lesson with CFI “John von.” This time, it was for tailwheel familiarization and procedures in a Citabria Explorer. Under his watchful eye, I was able to avoid ground looping the airplane that was five times the weight of my ultralight Badland F4.
Several days later, after decades of dreaming, I was finally able to fly my F4 for the first time at my home airport, Cattaraugus County-Olean (OLE). As I taxied to the end of the grass runway of OLE, I forced myself to stay focused on the task at hand. I made my radio call, “Olean area traffic, Badland ultralight 14BB departing Runway 34, Olean.” I pushed the throttle fully forward and sped down the turf strip. As the airspeed increased, I nudged the control stick forward, lifting the tail wheel off the ground. Thor continued to gain airspeed and was begging to break free. So, I pulled the stick back, and my Badland Aircraft gracefully lifted off from the airport atop a plateau of the Enchanted Mountains of western New York. As I gained altitude and climbed out, the grass runway and tree-covered mountains below fell away like heavy baggage.
The exhilaration of that first solo flight and, for me, every flight since then far exceeds the thrill I experienced exiting the aircraft door as a paratrooper nearly four decades ago. With each takeoff and landing in my Badland, I gain a deeper appreciation for this unique gift of flight that I once only dreamed of.
See you in the sky.
Barry Broughton, EAA 1513703, became interested in ultralight aviation after taking a discovery flight in 1993. Finally receiving training 30 years later, he is an active member of the Michigan Ultralight Association (MULA) Flying Club even though his home airport is OLE in western New York state.
