Living Las Vegas

Real Life in the Shadow of the Strip

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Wings Over Vegas: Soaring with Dan Nezgoda

At any given moment, there are all sorts of things in the sky above Las Vegas. In addition to jets of all sizes flying into and out of McCarran Airport, there are F-16s zooming out of Nellis Air Force Base, hot air balloons lifting off from Summerlin, helicopters full of tourists or policemen buzzing overhead, not to mention an occasional blimp floating over the Strip. The sky over Sin City can be a very crowded place.

Head a few miles south, however, to the town of Jean, and it’s a different story altogether. The small airport behind the Gold Strike casino is a launching pad for another kind of airship. Here, between Sheep Mountain and the old Las Vegas Highway, is where you’ll find gliders and the pilots who love them.

I found Dan Nezgoda there this week, smiling in the raking afternoon sun from behind a cool pair of aviator’s sunglasses. A pilot since the age of thirteen and one of the best sailplane pilots in the West, Dan is the owner of Soaring Adventures. He takes people from all over the globe up in his “birds.” It’s not surprising that his clientele hails from the far corners of the earth. Soaring conditions in Nevada are the best in the world, which is why I found myself climbing into Dan’s Schweizer SGS 2-32 for a trip into the late afternoon sunshine. If conditions are so uncommonly excellent, I had told myself, it was high time I experienced their magnificence, even though I don’t feel entirely comfortable without one foot on the ground.

“Do you like roller coasters?” Dan asked as he buckled a complicated seatbelt apparatus around me. I was sitting in the front of the plane, and he climbed in behind me.

“Not really,” I said. “I mean — well — no.”

“It’s okay,” Dan said. “But I always ask.”

He closed the canopy. The tow plane zipped down the runway with the glider, attached by a yellow rope and rolling on its one wheel, tagging along behind. Almost before I realized I was airborne, I was looking down on the Gold Strike and Interstate 15. The tow plane spiraled up, and I watched the altimeter on the dashboard reflect our ascent.

“He’s catching the thermals,” Dan said, and he explained how the tow plane was climbing on the hot air rising from the desert floor or rolling off the surrounding ridgelines. “We’ll be doing the same.”

When we reached about three thousand feet, Dan warned me that when he cut us loose from the tow plane, I’d hear a bang. I was glad to have the warning, but I was amazed that when he did pull the release knob, the noise was the only result. I had been half expecting a sickening plunge or scary jolt, but there was none. The yellow rope fell away, the tow plane went one way, and we went the other.

I had also thought that a glider ride would be silent, but once again I was wrong. While it’s much quieter than flying in a motorized plane, the wind is still noisy. Even so, you don’t have to yell or use a headset to talk. The whole time we were airborne, Dan kept me apprised of what to expect and what to look at.

“Keep your eye out for hawks or eagles,” Dan said. “If they’re here, they’ll soar with us.”

Riding on a thermal, we gained another couple thousand feet. To the north, I could see Las Vegas, and to the south, Primm and California. As uneasy a flyer as I am, I couldn’t deny the feeling of freedom that enveloped me as we road the air waves. The view expanded magically below us.

“Eagles?” I asked. “Really?”

“Golden eagles,” Dan affirmed.

Before we headed downward again, Dan offered me the chance to grasp the stick in front of me and actually fly the sailplane. Maybe next time, I thought before I declined. And as we descended toward the runway, I was amazed to find myself sorry the flight was coming to an end. As a perennially nervous flier, it was an utterly new feeling for me, one that I have never before had in a plane.

As we touched the ground in a perfect landing, it was easy for me to understand why Dan Nezgoda spends just about every day flying. Not only is he a gifted pilot, he seems to genuinely enjoy infecting other people with the joy of soaring. He does whatever it takes, too. In my case, a smooth flight with careful explanations was perfect. For others, a thrill ride is the ideal adventure, and some come for flying lessons. Some even come to get married — Dan offers the services of a “flying minister.”

As one of Dan’s latest initiates into the delights of soaring, I know I’ll return to Jean for another trip. And if he asks me if I like roller coasters, I just might have the enough nerve to say, “Sort of.”