The Call of the Clouds

The First Flight

Once we reached Kitty Hawk, situated on the Outer Banks of North Carolina, it wasn't difficult to discover the location of Kill Devil Hills. The experimentation with the flying machine was already taking place. Standing in awe at the sight of the Wright Flyer, I couldn't believe that it would ever leave the ground. The contraption, built of giant spruce with a wing design of 1-in-20 camber bicanard biplane configuration and twin propellers, seemed unwieldy to my young eyes. How were they ever going to get that thing off the ground? I wondered. On the other hand, Deacon did not doubt that success was in sight.

Situating ourselves where we could get a good view yet remain undetected, we prepared to watch the Wright Brothers take turns with their experiment. Sitting with his knees bent upwards, and his elbows propped to hold up his chin, Deacon studied the maneuverings as the trial and error testing continued. Finally, on December 17th, 1903, Orville Wright took the controls and launched into the first recorded flight that lasted 12 seconds at a distance of 120ft. All in all, Orville and Wilbur completed four brief flights that day, all at low altitudes. Unfortunately, by the end of the day, the flyer was damaged by a heavy gust of wind that turned it end over end.

Despite the inability to make quick repairs, my brother was in paroxysms of glory. "We did it!" he exclaimed, jumping to his feet and loudly whooping as he waved his arms over his head. Tugging on his coat, I pulled him back to the ground and whispered: "They did it." Deke reddened at his assumption of participating in the experiment and repeated: "They did it."

Gathering the meager results of our picnic lunch, we rose to leave the scene of the outstanding achievement of the first flight. There, standing behind us, the tall, imposing figure of the Right Reverend loomed. Dressed all in black and with his hands clasped behind his back, our father appeared as stern and righteous as ever. Our mother sat inside a black carriage a little further away with her hands gripped tightly in her lap.

Without a word, father pointed us toward the road and made us walk alongside the carriage the entire four miles to Kitty Hawk. Taking us each, one at a time, into the stables behind the hotel the Right Reverend had booked for the night, he tanned our jackets for us with his black leather strap. Deacon took his punishment in stride as a grown-up, but I couldn't endure mine. As soon as I was set free, I ran into our rented rooms to bury my head in my mother's lap.