"The best time I've ever had soaring," Tim McAllister said, "was on this mountain range, flying north with a flock of golden eagles. There wasn't much lift that day, so the eagles would fan out to look for it. When one found lift he would begin circling, and the other eagles and I would all fly over and get in his column of rising air. When they topped out, the eagles would spread out again, looking for more lift. We did that for 60 miles."
McAllister was in the left seat of the Stemme S10-VT motorglider. He is the chief pilot and lineboy of Steamboat Soaring Adventures in Steamboat Springs, Colorado. We had just launched from the Steamboat airport and were now east of the main ski area, on top of the range and not too far from Rabbit Ears Pass. McAllister had shut down the engine just moments ago and we were now gliding along, looking for lift.
"They didn't seem to mind the sailplane that day," McAllister continued, still thinking of eagles, "although sometimes when they'd see me they'd dive away, land in a tree down there, and wait until I went away."
After the racket that the 115-horsepower liquid-cooled Rotax engine made, the silence of unpowered flight seemed profound. We had removed our headsets when McAllister secured the engine. The only noise was the sound of air rushing past the open canopy vent beside me — I appreciated the ventilation under that huge canopy — and the singing and chirping of the variometer, a super-sensitive rate-of-climb instrument. And McAllister talking about soaring with eagles.
The day was fantastic, a Sunday in July, with only a few puffy clouds at 13,000 feet, a thousand or so above us, blue sky, infinite visibility and the mountains. In Colorado there are mountains. We were over the Continental Divide, searching for rising air. The green of the trees was not too far below. On the horizon in every direction reddish mountain peaks jutted above blue forests.
McAllister talked about the air, how the rocks heated it faster than the trees, how the breeze was forced upward by the steep mountain slopes, the clues that an experienced sailplane pilot looked for to find rising air.
He graduated from law school a few years ago, yet his mother's death from cancer at an early age caused him to reassess his career plans. He had been flying sailplanes since he was 15 and loved it, so he and his wife, Susan, began casting about for a way to make a living with sailplanes. They bought the S10-VT new from the factory in 1998 and moved to Steamboat, where they set up shop giving rides. It's truly a family business: McAllister is the pilot, Susan the ground crew and business executive, although she is taking lessons to get her private certificate.
This morning McAllister took time from his lecture on lift and soaring to point out landmarks. He pointed out the waterfall that appears on the Coors beer can, beaver dams and lodges, wagon ruts across the top of the mountain that the pioneers made when they first came to this country, and elk resting in a meadow. Still, the sky was his main focus, his passion, as we rode silently along, pilgrims looking into Valhalla.
He is a connoisseur of the sky, a student of its every nuance. He finds the Earth's greatest ocean endlessly fascinating. I have noticed that truly good pilots all share this trait.
The variometer stopped its moan and began beeping, signaling rising air. McAllister jumped on it. He slowed the Stemme by raising the nose and dropped a wing. Round and round we went, riding a little puff of rising air. Two hundred feet this time.
He continued to search, and was finally rewarded with a column that lifted us 600 feet. "Pretty good," he said, "for a day like this."
Soon he turned the Stemme over to me. Like every sailplane, the S10 takes lots of rudder because of the adverse yaw. I seemed to do best using the rudder for turns and very little aileron. We found some lift that I milked for 300 feet, but usually I floundered about, unable to stay in the rising columns of air. We porpoised along; I pulled the nose up when we found lift and shoved it over to accelerate when we lost it to get out of the sinking air quickly. Some pilots enjoy this — would rather do this than eat — but I suspect most passengers tire of it quickly. I know which category McAllister and I are in.
"Sure beats going to court," I said to him, and he laughed.
The S10 is the ultimate motorglider, perfect for any soaring adventure. The pilot and passenger, or copilot, sit side by side in semireclining seats and each has a stick and rudder pedals.
The aircraft wow! It's a 23-meter sailplane with an engine tucked away behind the cockpit, and a hidden prop in the nose that only pops out into the slipstream when in use. Advertised glide ratio is 50-to-1, although McAllister said 47-to-1 is more like it. He competes in motorglider competitions with this ship and knows it well.
Seventy-five feet of wing it's an awesome sight from the cockpit of a small airplane if you are used to Cessnas and Pipers. McAllister told me that when the factory engineers tested the wing structure, they managed to bend the wings until the tips touched without the spar failing.
At 6,880 feet above sea level, Steamboat in the summer is a challenge for most airplanes. The S10-VT, with a variable-pitch prop and turbocharged engine, handled the high-density altitude with no difficulty that Sunday morning. With the temperature around 80 degrees, we were still off at 40 knots after a short ground run. McAllister held the S10 in ground effect for a moment as the gear retracted and our speed increased. We climbed out at 60 kt.
"The other day we had a temperature of 97," he said, "which gave us a density altitude of 11,300 feet. The airplane did fine." Redline on the Rotax is 5,500 rpm.
Since they first appeared on the aviation scene in 1990, the Stemme family of motorgliders has fascinated me. The concept of a self-launching sailplane is an old one. Everyone can also see how an engine might help a sailplane avoid dangerous off-airport landings if the pilot miscalculates or the lift deserts him.
The problem has always been that the performance penalty a sailplane paid to carry an engine was just too large. Until the Stemme S10 came along. Reinhardt Stemme designed a world-class sailplane with a hidden engine, got the thing certified in Germany and around the world, and built a factory to manufacture it. In the grand tradition of German engineering, he named his company after himself.
Stemme's innovation, which makes the S10 unique, is a moveable nose cone that contains the folding, variable-pitch prop. Before the flight I examined the prop, pulled one blade out against the spring tension, and marveled at the way it folded itself up inside the nose cone. McAllister pointed out the electric brushes that control the prop's pitch. The switch in the cockpit allows two pitch settings, climb or cruise.
When the engine is started, centrifugal force causes the prop blades to spring out to the extended position. McAllister explained that the starter must turn the engine at 200 rpm to extend the prop before the mags fire. If the main battery has insufficient juice to turn the engine that fast, the engine will not start, on the ground or in the air. Consequently the S10 contains two batteries, a main to start the engine and an auxiliary that runs the electrical instruments while soaring with the engine secured. Solar panels that charge both batteries while the airplane soars are a factory option.
Years ago I sent away for the "literature," read everything I could lay hands on about the motorglider, and photographed and fondled one at Oshkosh. And I talked about the Stemme ad nauseam with my wife, Deborah. In the search for a birthday present this year, Deborah remembered my fascination with the Stemme and surfed the Web. She found the only outfit in the country, Steamboat Soaring Adventures, that has a Stemme S10 in commercial service and called them up.
If you have the itch to see what the Stemme can do or perhaps just fly a sailplane in paradise, give the McAllisters a call at 970/871-9003. You can also find them on the Web ( www.soarsteamboat.com). They fly year-round, weather permitting. The Mile High flight, which I had, runs $169. You can soar by the hour for $209.
So, is flying in the Stemme as cool as I thought it was going to be? Deborah is going to ask me that question. In my dreams of flight I surf the ridge wave on Allegheny Mountain, soar around the naked red peaks of the Rockies, ride thermals in the vast deserts of the Great Basin. I use the engine as necessary to get me there and back safely. Spend nights in motels, soar all day, find little paved fields here and there to fly from.
It's a great dream. With the Stemme it could come true. Of course, there's the little matter of the purchase price of an S10-VT, currently about $182,000 plus options. And finding time.
Sitting in the right seat of Tim and Susan McAllister's Stemme over Steamboat Springs, I can see how the dream might come true. Someday. That's what I'll tell Deborah.
Stephen Coonts, AOPA 1056593, is the author of several novels, including Hong Kong and America. The author recently sold his Piper Pacer in favor of a brand-new Aviat Husky A1B. Visit his Web site ( www.coonts.com).
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