PHOTO BY DAVID LOWE Everett Kirby checks his powered parachute before attempting to fly the machine. From a thousand feet or so in the air, Lometa resident Everett Kirby sees it all. Meandering rivers, sparkling lakes, trees and herds of wildlife speckle the landscape as he glides through the air.

The views keep beckoning to him to take his gaspowered parachute to the sky.

Kirby’s craft -- a two-seat, 380-pound vehicle with a 65-horsepower rotax engine -- relies on the same principles of aerodynamics that govern airplanes. Wind streaming over the top of the parachute creates a vacuum that lifts the craft into the air.

When he is ready to fly, Kirby lays the 550-cubicfoot Kevlar fiber parachute flat about two feet behind his aircraft. He checks a 30-foot-tall pole with an air sock to determine wind direction and then points his machine into the wind. This allows for quicker lift.

Once his cylinder head reaches 135 degrees, Kirby pushes the throttle to force air under the parachute and bring the parachute above the machine. The amateur aviator then corrects any tangled strings and gives the engine more gas to lift his parachute into the air.

During cool weather, when the air is relatively dense, Kirby can take off in 300 to 400 feet. For every three degrees the temperature increases, however, he needs an extra 1,000 feet of runway, he said.

Kirby began flying a power parachute in 2002 after completing a one-day “basic flight instructor” course with instructor Craig McPherson of Blum, a small town northwest of Hillsboro.

As part of the training, Kirby flew to 1,200 feet above the ground and then had to cut off the motor to practice a “dead stick landing.”

“The higher you are the easier it is to get to a landing spot,” Kirby said, “because you can actually sail down.”

During a landing, seven- to eight-inch-wide flaps on the trail end of the parachute come down and trap air to create a little lift. This slows the rate of descent to allow for a fairly soft landing.

With flexible fiberglass axles, Kirby’s machine keeps him from sustaining injury or damaging his aircraft if a landing is not as soft as desired.

“I’ve hit the ground pretty solid, but these things are pretty tough,” he said.

Mishaps do occur occasionally. When the Lometan failed to complete a proper pre-flight check, the winds changed and pulled Kirby’s machine into a round hay bale. The parachute hobbyist learned from the mistake, though.

“It doesn’t take long to learn what you can and can’t do,” he said. “It’s the safest form of flying there is.”

Kirby’s powered parachute, which can travel at a top speed of 32 miles per hour, is capable of handling 12 Gs. Kirby never pulls more than two or three, however. Although he can take his machine as high as 10,000 feet, he usually flies low enough to savor the sights of the countryside.

From 1,000 feet in the air, Lake Buchanan comes into view clearly, Kirby said. The parachute navigator also enjoys watching animals move -- sometimes almost as if suspicious of his aircraft -- as he sails over them.

“You can find every deer that’s around,” Kirby said. “You can really see the animals on the ground, and it brings them out. It’s as if it scares them, like a prehistoric bird or something.”

Despite his choice of a simple aircraft, Kirby flies with modern gear: GPS to track altitude, engine status and air time, along with helmets equipped with RAD intercom so he and his passenger can talk above the noise of flight. Fred Flintstone, he is not.

The machine, which has a 10- gallon fuel tank and uses premium gasoline, can transport two people for about two and a half hours before it needs refueling.

Kirby enjoys flying with friends and family, and his wife, Jean Kirby, has completed some powered parachute training with McPherson, the instructor in Blum.

A Federal Aviation Administration certified parachute repair technician in El Paso works on Kirby’s parachute as needed. Other than simple tasks like tightening bolts, the body of the machine needs little maintenance.

That leaves plenty of time for Kirby to enjoy the views from the air.