A flight over Wimberley

You have probably been outside working in the yard or washing the car and heard what sounded like a lawnmower engine above. You look up and you see Doug Upshaw in his powered parachute slowly making his way across the horizon.

Doug has dubbed his craft “Free Bird” after the Lynyrd Skynyrd rock song. It has a 47-horsepower, Austrian-made engine and a five-gallon gas tank. A typical flight lasts about two hours and he cruises along between 500 and 1,000 feet high. There are two foot pedals, press the right one and the craft turns right, press the left one and it veers left. It can lift just over 400 pounds.

Doug, who owned an oil-field safety business, bought his powered parachute about 10 years ago. The craft was made by a now-defunct company in Yakima, Wash., in the 1990s. “It’s old technology,” Doug points out.

Doug bought the motorized parachute at a tractor yard in Cisco. “You normally don’t buy something like that at a tractor yard,” he says with a chuckle.

He was busy with his business and didn’t have much time for flying so the rig sat in a barn in West Texas. When he turned his company over to his son, he suddenly had time to refurbish the craft and learn to fly it.

Simple machine

The powered parachute is a pretty simple contraption. Basically, it consists of five parts: parafoil, engine, seat, propeller and wheels. It cruises along at 26 miles per hour. If it goes faster, it rises. If it goes slower, it drops.

He takes off from a lot near Wimberley City Hall. The property is owned by his friend Tracey Dean so Doug has labeled it Dean-Wimberley International Airport. He puts up a sock there to gauge the wind.

It takes about 45 minutes to prepare for a takeoff, getting the chute laid out just right and running his safety check. People will stop along Ranch Road 12 and watch, waiting for the takeoff. “I tell them, this is going to take a while,” he says.

When he takes off, air fills the pockets in the lightweight, nylon parachute, creating lift. “It’s a simple thing to fly,” says Doug.

The Federal Aviation Administration only has a handful of rules governing powered parachutes: no night flying, certain weight restriction, no flying over crowded areas. (Doug avoids the Wimberley Square area). Altitude tops out at 1,000 feet keeping pilots safe from low-flying aircraft. But a pilot doesn’t need medical clearance or a license. You can work on your own machine.

If the engine should fail, he could glide back down to earth. “I used to ride motorcycles, but this is so much safer than a motorcycle,” Doug says.

The biggest danger is unsteady air. You won’t see Doug flying on a windy day. Hot weather also changes the dynamics so in the summer he’s usually flying in the mornings — the hotter it gets, the more runway he needs. Turkey vultures also present a hazard, but they seem to think the powered parachute is a big bird out to get them and they generally avoid it.

Distracted once

He’s had only one mishap. He was distracted while making a landing. He came in fast and hard, broke an axle and damaged his propeller. “I won’t ever be distracted again. I learned my lesson,” he says. “The key to this thing is don’t be stupid. If it’s not a perfect day you won’t see me up there.”

Doug doesn’t wear a helmet. Instead, he listens to music on his headphones (which also protects his hearing).

“Free Bird” needs about 50 feet to land. “When you are up there you are always looking for a place to land,” says Doug. That explains why he’s often spotted over the golf course at Woodcreek.

He plans to keep flying as long as he can. It takes a mighty yank of a cord to start the engine. When he can’t pull that cord anymore he knows it’s time to quit, he says. His family members have a divided opinion: some think his flying is “pretty cool” and some think he’s “nuts.”

“I’m relaxed up there. You just get a whole different perspective of God’s creations,” he says. “Everything just looks prettier from up there.”

Next time you see a yellow, black and silver powered parachute overhead, wave. Doug can see you.