MEMBERSHIP
Participation in the Sky Gypsies is by invitation only. (“We’re not
trying to be exclusive, just cautious,” explains McAfee. “You’re
putting your life in the other members’ hands while you are trekking.”)
The process begins with a weekend trip to club headquarters i...
Eventually, the streambed petered out, and we paralleled a smooth ridge. A quarter-mile farther, the ground fell away as we passed a sheer precipice, 1,000 feet high, a ragged tear in the earth between the mountains and the parched valley. My stomach was in my throat. McAfee banked gently to the right, following the hill’s undulation.
I asked him if he ever saw an end to this kind of flying for himself.
“The more I fly, the more exciting it becomes for me,” he said. “I’ll go off by myself, and if the wind blows south, I’ll go south. If I see a canyon, I’ll go into it. I fly by feel. I don’t need to look at the dials. You develop a sixth sense about the plane and its condition. You reach a point where you become a part of the plane.”
I pointed out that he’d had passions before, and he’d wound up leaving them behind. Who was to say that wouldn’t happen again?
“I anticipate that happening. It doesn’t worry me at all.”
“So,” I pressed, “what do you think you’ll be doing in five years?”
“I don’t have a clue,” he said. “That’s how I like to live."
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