XC Camp IV - 14 to 15 August, 2004
George Stebbins
El
Mirage Rocks! ---------------------
It would have been easy to do a much larger course, but there were safety and
practicality limits: It was unsafe to go too far to the East (especially NE) due
to T-storms. The westerlies came through limiting how far we could go West. Most
importantly, my wife had offered to drive if we didn't go too far, thus making
the return to the lake-bed a high-priority option. I can't complain. For her to
offer to drive when she was 7 1/2 months pregnant after driving for 8 days in
Texas was very nice of her! Thanks, J! Also, we had no waypoints for the area.
That would have been ok if we were just going for distance, but for
pre-determined course lines, it didn't work too well. We were making it up as we
went along. Next time, I will have some points stored in my instruments in
advance.
Ken mentioned a Triangle, but if you look at the course, it wasn't quite
that. The course was: Tow area-> Crystal Air -> NW. end of Lake LA (water tanks)
-> Visitor Center at E end of El Mirage -> Driver Jim's place -> Tow area. It
was sort of two linked triangles, the 2nd one much smaller than the first one.
(A lop-sided bow tie?)
The first half of the first leg was easy, but then there was a big blue hole
which almost put me on the ground just short of Crystal Air. I kept pushing on,
and at about 900' agl, just short of the runway, caught a light one which turned
into a real boomer after 1500 feet or so. After that, it was a piece of cake.
Altitudes of 11k+ were had by many. 10k+ was the norm. Cloudbase was around
11.4k near Crystal Air.
I was most impressed with Ken's patience in getting back up from Crystal Air
and making it back to the lakebed. He had gone into the blue hole caused by the
approaching Westerlies, and had to just hang in marginal lift as he drifted back
to the clouds. That put him almost due south of El Mirage, making his triangle
almost a mirror image of mine, in more difficult conditions. Good Job Ken!
A side-note: I believe it would have been possible to go SE to Crestline,
after doing the larger triangle. There appeared to be good clouds all the way to
the back-side of Crestline, and a quick dive from the last ones would likely
have made it a simple task to get there. The T-storms had moved NE by then, so
if you had timed it right, you'd have likely made it. Later, a new storm built,
so you would have had to do it at the right time.
Also, had the air been a bit less wet, we wouldn't have had T-storms, and
100+ mile flights to the NE would easily have been possible. Heck, On the leg
from Lake LA to El Mirage, I only lost 1200 feet over 8+ miles and made exactly
one circle, which was unnecessary. There were some big blue holes, but there
were plenty of lines of clouds as well.
Let's all thank Hungary Joe (and Adam) and go out to fly El Mirage again
soon! If you didn't come out, you missed a great time!
Ken
Andrews
Saturday:
The day looked iffy. It was already almost noon when I arrived, my name was
last on the priority list for getting a tow, and moreover a big storm was
developing to the east. Ken Strait offered to drive chase for whatever pilots
headed X-C; even though he stayed earthbound that day, he's our angel! (He flew
excellently in the aerotow clinic on Sunday.) I set up fast while others
discussed storms and strategy, and headed for the launch line as towing was just
getting underway. When Markus dropped out of line with a shoulder strap problem
of some sort, I got the next tow by being eager and ready; thanks Markus!
It wasn't long before Richard Brunt and I were flying westward and running
from the storm, a gust front had turned the entire eastern half of the lake into
a huge cloud of dust, and the remaining pilots were grounded. Ken started
driving chase and Richard flew off into emptiness somewhere, while I followed El
Mirage Road, cut southwest to Pearblossom Highway, and continued westward.
Cloudbase overhead was at 9500 feet, and big black clouds were building to the
south and southwest. I chose to stay low so I could land promptly or run
northwest if necessary. Richard landed somewhere, so I relayed his GPS
coordinates to Ken and did my best to provide GPS-unit operating instructions.
This proved intractable, so finally we agreed that Ken would follow me until I
landed, and then together we'd go find Richard.
By this time, I was getting ahead of the storms so lift was weaker, and the
west wind had picked up enough to prevent much forward progress. With little
incentive to continue, I landed 21.2 miles out, where Pearblossom Highway
crosses the aqueduct. Since this stretch of desert is sparsely but uniformly
covered with bushes, I didn't bother picking a runway, and simply aimed to land
upwind. An eight foot tall bush appeared inconveniently in the middle of my
path, but I had just enough airspeed to hop over it, kick the top branches, and
land gently enough on the other side, just short of the next bush.
Ken drove up almost immediately and helped pack up my glider. We then went
searching for Richard. He wasn't at his GPS coordinates, which we found at the
corner of Ave. G and 120th Street. Richard confirmed he was on Avenue G where it
turns from pavement to dirt, but it does that half a dozen times or more. When
he figured out he was a little east of Ave. 200, that finally pinned down his
longitude a dozen miles from what we'd expected, and the remaining search was
easy. He was on 240th Street, eight miles northwest of El Mirage, wet, hailed
upon, not quite struck by lightning, and enthusiastic and cheerful as ever.
Sunday:
The weather developed rather like Saturday, but later in the day and not as
spectacularly. George Stebbins, Greg Angsten, Markus, and I agreed to fly west
somewhere, with J willing to drive chase on condition that we flew and landed
together. Most of us sank out on our first tow or two, but eventually we all got
good flights. George was in the lead and flying a triangle course, choosing and
calling out turn points shortly before reaching them. Greg and Markus did their
own things, and I chose to follow George's triangle, which had become more
challenging for I was an hour behind and in very different weather.
The first turn point was at Crystal airport, the glider port 16 miles to the
southwest. After tentatively leaving El Mirage a little low, the clouds pulled
me up and sent me on my way easily enough. A dozen miles out, the west wind
picked up and I found myself beating upwind under a rapidly clearing sky. After
finally tagging the airport buildings, I was down to 4600 feet and the remaining
lift was weak and broken. The second turn point, Lake LA five miles to the
north, was out of the question. Having violated J's conditions for retrieval, I
was highly motivated to stay aloft, and spent the next half hour carefully
working 50 foot/minute lift while drifting downwind and east along Pearblossom
Highway. When finally reaching 7000 feet, I made a brief try towards El Mirage,
but no, the now-northwest wind and blue sky would have quickly put me on the
ground. The drift eastward got easier as I got under cloud, even with a few
raindrops smacking into my helmet and sail, and soon after crossing Sheep Creek
Road, it became an easy matter to zip northwards at 11000 feet. The third
turnpoint, the El Mirage Visitor's Center at the east end of the lake, was a
no-brainer, and then an easy speed-run and spiral dives put me back on the
ground at base camp in a strong NW wind and under a spectacular evening sky.
Adam Stone
On Saturday, I was all dressed up with no place to go when the gust front
came through. Earlier in the day we had watched an isolated thunderstorm to the
east, near Hesperia, and were sure we saw a tornado. Joe later advised us that
he thought it was a wet dust devil. Several pilots were in the air as I waited
in launch line. We felt a change in the wind that felt like a pulse from the
east. George speculated that it was a weak gust front.
A few minutes later, Ken announced on the radio that a gust front was moving
across the lake toward us. We looked at the line of dust, and wondered if it
could just be a vehicle kicking up a lot of dust. Ken assured us that it was, in
fact, a real gust front. Pilots on the ground scrambled to secure their gliders,
while pilots in the air had more interesting decisions to make.
Daisy helped me hold my pancaked glider down as the gust front hit. Winds
were probably up to 30 mph at times. The windblown sand piled up in drifts along
my leading edge, and pelted our exposed skin. Then, a small tumbleweed rolled
triumphantly across my wing. Nothing beats the feeling of sand in your eyes,
ears, and in between your teeth.
We listened on the radio as a couple of pilots with altitude escaped the
storm by flying west. The two pilots that returned to the LZ provided good
entertainment as they approached and landed in the high winds. However, both
Bruce and Jim did a good job with their landings. When the dust settled a bit,
new other smoking driver Ken went off to retrieve Ken A. and Richard.
It was now fairly late in the afternoon, and conditions didn't portend
improvement, so we sat around in the light rain and - you guessed it - drank
beer. The weather put on a superb show for us, with cu-nimbs forming before our
eyes, each with the energy of an atomic bomb. As the storm moved west, one
formed near the base of the mountains and blocked out the sun as it grew. It
topped out and arched over us like a magnificent gray canopy, forty thousand
feet high. And the thunder sounded like huge boulders rolling around inside it.
The gods were bowling.
Then, a mighty bolt of lightning struck a few miles to the northwest, and
reported, in due time, with a righteous clap of thunder. We laughed at the
thought that it had struck Ken's kingpost. Ken, however, was still in the air,
moving west. He reported that he was dodging a number of storms on three sides
of him. I called Richard on my cell phone and found that the lightning had in
fact been very near to him. He was soaking wet, and had been pelted with hail,
but he was fine. Wooooohaaaa!
Ken's story is yet to come on this page, so I'll leave that to him. The rest
of the day was a beautiful display of nature's wonders, with Hungary Joe as our
narrator. You couldn't ask for a better way to learn about these grumbling
giants. We drank beer, wine, and some famous Chinese liquor (Wu Liang Ye), and
Daisy served mu shu pork (possibly an El Mirage first). I didn't fly, and in
most ways I'm glad I didn't, but I did have a helluva time!
Jim Delear
I was out there Saturday for one tow. I got up nicely off tow, and saw the
dust from the gust front kick up on the lakebed. I didn't think that would
happen so early, it was about 1:45. The funnel cloud we saw earlier came to
mind, so I thought I would scrub my plan to XC west and quit early too. I had a
nice smooth high wind landing at camp, and the air temp was cool and comfortable
for beertime, with a little rainshowers.
George Stebbins
2nd day I went to Crystal Air, then Lake LA, then back to El Mirage.
Markus Schaedler
Ken had a great flight on Sunday - he did really well. I also had a good
flight, my personal best so far at El Mirage. "1 hour box flight". To El Mirage
Road - followed the road to the turn off - turned North towards the lake -
passed the lake - flew along the other side of the lake - crossed the lake and
returned to our spot and had a great landing. That is it for now...
(Camp III was cancelled)
XC Camp II - 18 to 20 June, 2004
Aaron Kiely
My story: I never got really high, and didn't want to go downwind
just to land a few miles away, so I landed back at the car on Friday
and Sunday. On Friday I chased Ken and Jeff on their flights, and on
Sunday we packed up and left relatively early.
Ken Andrews
On Friday, the turnout consisted only of Jeff Chipman, Aaron Kiely,
myself, and Sam Dolinar to drive chase. Jeff stayed in the air on
his first tow, but Aaron and I kept sinking out. On my third tow,
Hungary Joe had me pointed towards the Mother of all Dust Devils when
my weak link broke. I continued in that direction, and was
handsomely rewarded with a steady climb to 13,400 feet according to
my GPS. Jeff and I headed northeast and downdwind with Sam and Aaron
driving chase. I found little workable lift after that, but a glide
from that altitude got me 27.7 miles, about two thirds of the way to
Barstow. Jeff was more successful at finding what lift there was and
went about 30 miles to the Barstow city limits.
Saturday had a bigger attendance, with flying conditions virtually
identical to Friday. This time it was George Stebbins and I who
headed towards Barstow. We left the base camp area at about 6000
feet, and found the day's great thermal at the east end of the lake.
After topping out at 12,600 feet, I was on glide for the next 24.9
miles towards Barstow. George left lower, nearly hit the ground at
Silver Lakes, but patiently worked the weak and broken lift, and
continued on for a total of about 33 miles. I think this gives him
the longest flight of the weekend.
The air was much more stable on Sunday, and few pilots left the lake.
My first tow on Sunday was notable. I got hit by a dust devil or
something immediately upon leaving the cart, weight-shifted hard to
the right, and I think I would have recovered. However my release
spontaneously let go at about 30 feet AGL (not a broken weak link;
maybe I accidentally bumped the release handle?), so I pulled in to
recover airspeed and land. Then I discovered the tow bridle between
my shoulder straps had hooked itself around the glider's right wheel
and I couldn't weight-shift: I was stuck in a diving right turn a few
feet off the ground! Thankfully I realized what had happened and got
the rope unhooked before the right wingtip hit the ground, and I
landed uneventfully on my feet. In retrospect, with sufficient
presence of mind I might have realized that the backup release on my
shoulder strap would have freed me from the wheel. So there's an
unanticipated benefit in having a backup release. My second tow on
Sunday was uneventful, and after a half hour of working light lift
over the lake, I was the last pilot to land, bringing the weekend to
a close in classic El Mirage style as I skidded in on my belly in a
cloud of dust.
Adam Stone
I came out Saturday to get my fix. My one tow was good, but I never found the
stairway to heaven. Glenn Smith was getting 9 grand plus, but I didn't get above
7500 or so. As I puttered around over the LZ, I eyed a Kansas-sized DD at the
east end of the lake. It was beyond reach. Glenn was doing well over the north
end, so I headed that way. On my way across the lake, I found myself directly
over a medium-sized DD. I had never seen one from that vantage. That was way
cool. I even saw a calf. As I made my way toward Glenn, I began to understand
the wave of lift concept for desert flying.
Since I had no chase, and I didn't want to get too far from Daisy, I went for
a triangle, heading to the west end of the lake. I began to understand the wave
of lift concept even more as I left it, and sank like a mofo. I had my neck out
at 4000', gambling on a low save. There was nada, just gnarliness. I didn't have
time to drop a streamer, but the wind direction was fairly apparent. I landed,
El Mirage style, near the west entrance to the lake. On final, I was popped
mightily, at about 50' AGL. I'm glad I didn't try to work that lift, because it
was indeed gnarly, and was immediately followed by "whoa" sink. No damage, no
injury (okay, slightly skinned knees). I radioed in that I was AOK.
As I sat under my control frame, removing gear, the wind began to pick up. It
was early afternoon, and I thought this was unusual. It was also shifting,
making it hard to align the glider for stability. Anyway, during one cycle, the
wind picked up to at least 20 mph. I held on to the down tubes. And then I was
bitch slapped by a honking gust that hit me from the back like a freight train.
I found myself skidding across the lakebed for more than 50 feet. When I came to
a stop, I noticed that my keel had been snapped handily. Several good Samaritans
stopped by and asked if I was all right. I said I was, that I didn't need help,
and that friends were coming to get me.
With the wind howling, and my glider broken, I decided that I should pancake
it. I was somewhat shaken at this point, and it was difficult to turn the
glider, so I proceeded to pancake it with the tail to the wind. When I lowered
the nose to the ground, can you guess what happened? The situation was
compounded by the damaged keel. So, there I was, under a tumbling glider,
tangled in luff lines, cringing at the sounds coming from the interior as it
twisted in the wind on its kingpost. I brought it over one more time to the
pancake position, thinking "I'm going to be thrashed and sliced to death by this
thing!"
Once things stopped moving, I quasi-secured the glider, and radioed that I
could, in fact, use a little help. I later found that my hiking boot laces on
one foot had been sliced in several places. I looked at the glider in disgust,
and wondered if there was any point in packing it up. I thought about leaving it
there, a worthless piece of junk at this point. Jim Delear and Daisy came to my
rescue, helped me break down, and served me a beer. Things were getting better.
I no longer think this was a dust devil. There was no dust, no swirling, no
devil. I think it was a gnarly mother of all gusts, or perhaps an evil spirit.
That end of the lake is rather spooky, if you ask me. I haven't asked what the
damage is, yet, but I'm guessing at least six C notes. I went back to the camp
and drank more beers. I was going to be fine, my glider was probably going to be
fine. I might need a new glider, anyway. Other pilots proceeded to Barstow. We
ate watermelon, Hungary Joe entertained us with his Dragonfly, and Daisy got her
first ride on a land sailer. I got my fix, alright.
Jeff Chipman
I showed up on Friday for the completion of my tow clinic that I started in
April or was it March? Any how I was the first to arrive and was a bit worried
as I thought I was late showing up at 11am. Upon my arrival, there was no RV, no
tow plane in site and no other cars around the USUAL site.
I figured I might as well go ahead and do what I had been itching to do since
first arriving on the lake bed. So...........off I went zooming around the lake
like it was my own, but still keeping a watchful eye over the sky in hopes the
tug would appear. After a few subsonic runs up and down the desert race track I
went back to the tug site. As I was arriving, the tug appeared on the horizon
coming from the newly constructed hangar at the Flying J Ranch. I quickly drove
to the designated tow spot and was soon joined by the JPL crew (Ken, Sam, and
Aaron). So for the day it looked like it would only be 3 pilots (should make for
an easy day).
I think Ken was first off the dolly with a subsequent weak link failure. I
was next up on the dolly and took a full tow with the Talon (I was scared to
death, being towed on the Talon for the first time). I had towed well on the
Moyes XT but I wasn't sure how the Talon would react, or how I would do for that
matter. WOW what a difference towing a high performance glider makes. No more
Popeye arms for me. On tow Joe pulled me through several thermals and seemed to
take me to known thermal triggers. Even after pinning off he stayed in a good
spot until I finally "GOT IT" and flew over to him to make it higher. That was
the ticket and I stayed up waiting for Sam and Ken. I was gradually moving east
since that was where the bigger thermals seemed to be. By far the best starting
point was the airport But moving north then east seemed to be the ticket. Of
course by now I fully understood that NO ONE could understand a word I was
saying over the radio because of wind noise. Great here I am going through
12,000' 7 miles down range and I cannot communicate. Having the JPL crew would
fix that though. After recognizing my communications woes, Sam started asking me
a series of questions that I could answer with mic clicks. Thanks Sam, great
job. With the re-establishment of quasi-communications I was free to pursue XC
(hoping that I had fulfilled my aero-tow clinic obligations).
I had very little knowledge of the terrain other than knowing Barstow was to
the NE. But that was the general direction the wind was taking me and at 12,000'
I could probably make those two lake things I could see in the distance. Aaron
had briefed us on the airspace restrictions so I was somewhat aware of the
limitations of going due east. As I crossed a highway with BIG power lines I
figured was the 395, Sam confirmed my suspicions again with a series of
questions and my subsequent radio clicks. As I was crossing 395 at 9,500' I got
another thermal that put me back over 10,000' and now had the railroad tracks
and whatever road that was to the east of the tracks. I started picking up more
of a southerly drift and wasn't sure how well the other guys were doing so I
opted to play it conservatively and keep the road along the railroad tracks in
play. Although this would later prove to be a wrong decision as far as miles was
concerned, logistically I thought it was an OK move. Pushing against a strong
crosswind definitely ate up a lot of my altitude. I made it over the road that I
now knew as the 66 past crystal lakes or Helendale. But it was here that I
really started to understand how hard the wind was blowing (somewhere around 20
mph). As I drifted in zero for about 7 miles I had time to figure out where I
would eventually land. Someplace green (water) was what I had in mind, because I
wasn't sure how my retrieval situation was looking. All I knew at this point was
I was around 30 miles from pinning off and Ken was thermaling up east of the
lake. I could now see Barstow and the 15 and 40 highways, but I would soon be
over residential areas so I decided I had flown as far as I was going that day.
Now to pick the greenest, friendliest place I could see. As I approached Lenwood
( a small town just inside the Barstow city limits), I saw a golf course that
basically looked deserted but green. Looked like a nice place to break down and
I could probably get a beer too! As I was setting up the approach I finally
realized that I was going to attempt to put down on the driving range (probably
not a good idea, as I could envision being pelted with golf balls or sliding
across them like marbles). No problem, nice culdasac to my right I'll go there.
Landing in a 15 - 20mph wind with full VG was easy enough until you turn the
gliders tail to the wind. That suks.
I pulled the cell phone out to get a call into Sam, man was I glad I got the
phone number before I set out. Sam didn't answer but O left him a voice mail and
he called back shortly after. A couple of young boys came up and was wondering
why I was there and where I came from. They helped secure a spot to break-down
on somebody's front lawn so the house would act as a wind break. Bob Floyd was
my LZ host as I was breaking down in his front yard. Bob was very hospitable and
brought me ice T and a couple of lawn chairs. I broke down most of the way and
waited for Sam and Aaron to eventually arrive which didn't take long at all.
Matter of fact Bob pointed them out long before I saw them coming. Bob was
gracious to them as well and offered Sam and Aaron drinks, I figured I better
get myself together since Ken was reportedly landing out along some dusty dirty
road and would certainly enjoy getting picked up sooner than later. I had a good
time!
XC Camp I - 30 April to 2 May, 2004
Greg Angsten
Well, I had two tows but both added together didn't reach a thousand feet as
I got bumped off around 400 ft. both times. I'm out of practice towing, next
time VG will be all off until I get smoother. I had a good flight nevertheless,
landing at the intersection of the 14 and Angeles Forest Hwy. where it comes out
of the mountains, about 30 miles. Probably could have gotten a little farther
but it would have meant leaving the 14 so I opted for the sure happy ending. It
turned out to be the right choice because once I was packed up and heading home,
2 miles up the 14 the wind turned around from the West. Best altitude I reached
was something over 9K. A perfect flight day, landed on my way home and got back
in time for dinner and a movie.
I'm sure one could have gotten a lot farther on Saturday with an early
launch. I launched at 11, flew for an hour and left lift at 8K to come down for
clothes. When I landed, I couldn't believe everyone was sitting around waiting
for the right time to launch.
Lisa Wendt
I was there Saturday (one tow) and Sunday (two tows). You missed my flight
late Sunday. Joe towed me up and dumped me in a nice thermal. He went back to
tow Arthur and the three of us were flying around all by ourselves. Arthur was
in a different thermal (big desert, no?) but I started to lose it. Joe noticed
and came to chum for me. He found me a great thermal—I climbed out to 13,000. I
had no choice now but to leave the lakebed. Arthur tried but never caught up to
me so I was on my own. No radio headset, no jacket. Arthur and I were just going
to boat around and have fun because we thought it was shutting off. Not so. I
took a similar route George and Jay D. had taken the day before. I figured it
was a good idea to stay near “familiar” territory. I landed over by Lake Los
Angeles (Palmdale Blvd. and 152 Street East) and had a nice leisurely 15.3 mile
flight. I only know (and have my track) ‘cause George loaned me a GPS. Anyway,
that was my first XC experience. To my surprise, I wasn’t even scared. It must
have been hypoxia.
Aaron Kiely
I was at the camp Friday and Sunday. On Friday, I had three tows to a maximum
altitude of 200 feet according to my vario (and consistent with my memory of the
experience). Then I had one perfect tow. Sunday my weak link broke at
1000', but I lost my right to be disappointed somewhere before reaching the 5
mile distance mark. [Aaron went about 45 miles, landing in Soledad Canyon, near
the 14].
Jim Delear
I was there Saturday. My first tow was unsuccessful, I got too high in
relation to the tug, with a weaklink failure. I got up to go XC on the next one
for 3 hours, and a landing at ave. S LZ, a nice familiar LZ.. I had a good time
all right. Thanks.
Richard Brunt
Story: The longest
XC ever,... for me. Longest Eastern XC of the weekend. A mind
staggering 1163.8,... yards.
Perry Judd
I was recovering from a dose of stomach flu so I didn't fly until Sunday. Got
three tows in that day, but didn't get to hook up with Mike Leger on his flight
to Ouail Lake (64miles). We had radio trouble so he had a two man chase crew.
Markus Schaedler
Unfortunately I could not make it. I came home really late and was too tired
to get up early. Next time...
Adam Stone
I flew once on Friday, for 20 minutes, max altitude 5260' MSL (release). My
XC distance was a mind-numbing 296 feet north of launch. I have since learned
that aerotow distance is judged from the point of release, so in that case it
was 0.4 miles WSW of release. The wind tricked me, and I did a Six Million
Dollar Man landing (not that unusual for El Mirage). No injury, except I stubbed
my toe on the desert. However, I now have one less spare down tube. I should
have taken a picture of the skid marks. On Saturday and Sunday, I helped others
fly. I rode shotgun chasing Aaron and Ken on their super flights.
[Ken went about 53 miles WSW, landing in the Santa Clara River (bed), less
than 3 miles from Hungary Joe's house.]
J Devorak
First tow Friday was in my WW Talon. It’s been a while since my last tow and
I seemed to be all over the place. Joe was kind to me and compensated. I stayed
on the string all the way to 5300 feet until I was waved off. I just did a
thermal search for the next half hour. The second tow I did a better job of
staying in the cone. What really pleased me, though, is that I was able to
expand my focus to recognize we were going through some big lift. I pinned off
at 1200 AGL and took it up to 8400 MSL. I flew for an hour, going to the other
end of the lakebed and climbing back up over 8k. 395 still seemed soooo far away
with no fields in-between.
Second day George Stebbins was going to fly his Falcon and try and help Lisa
land out. I set up my Falcon to tag along. They went first and found something
to climb in. Encourage by my previous flight, I pinned off is some lift at 1100’
AGL. At first I was only hitting 350 on my averager and worried that I might not
catch them. George finally made the call to go on glide to the WSW at about 9k.
Lisa turned back feeling the same anxieties I felt the day before. I headed a
little more SW toward a big black mountain with a few big fields along the way.
George’s track produced more sink and I watched as he headed for some small
hills along Ave P for a save. He found no help and landed there. I turned right
and went along the road thinking it made a better landmark for retrieval. A
couple of miles past George I found some low scratchy lift and tried to work it
to no avail. I had a beautiful no step landing 10 miles out. Breaking down, I
saw a sailplane getting up in the same lift I couldn’t. Sitting beside the road
in the shade of a telephone pole I sang my XC theme song.
I was born under a wondering star,
Under a wondering, wondering star.
Wheels were made for turning,
Mules were made to pack.
I never saw a sight
That didn’t look better
Looking back.
Sunday I put my remaining beers in Ken’s retrieval vehicle as inducement.
Then I set up my Talon. Ken and Arron launched first. I pinned of early again
with the confidence of two prior successes. I found some lift but wasn’t
matching their climb. I tried to zip up for improvement but my zipper got stuck.
I scruntched up and pulled it up by hand, but lost my thermal, I went looking
for another over the small hills SW of the Flying J ranch. No luck. I went back
to the setup area and landed. As punishment for my failure I decided to stick
around and help Hungry Joe break down the Dragon Fly. I watched as Lisa climbed
up to 13k and leave. Later I witnessed Greg Kendall fly in from Sylmar and Land.
At least Joe had some spare beers.
Ken Andrews
On the theory that a picture is worth a thousand words, my story is attached.
