No news is good news?

Not much going on here. Sounds like good times were had at Indian Valley over Labor Dayy. Sorry to miss the fun but a little break hasn't been bad. The knee is knitting though still can't bend it past 90 deg and it tends to swell in the afternoons, so I'm still babying it (no flying). Hoping to get back in the air in a couple of weeks.

Lakeview WrapUp

Chris V hucks himself into the blue.
Well we had a couple of no-fly days due to high winds, and I was hopeful (if not quite optimistic) that I would be able to resume flying when the weather got more cooperative. The knee continued to stiffen however, so Thursday I drove for Tom, and ended up picking up Doc as well. It was the first time I've chased; it was fun, more than I expected. Not as exciting as flying, but totally enjoyable in a vicarious way, and much more relaxed.

Ken gets some pre-flight strategic advice.
Wayne hit some turbulence on landing that day and unfortunately dislocated his shoulder, so Gerry, Sarah, Wayne, and I went back to retrieve his glider after he got back from the hospital. I've never dislocated a shoulder, I assume its pretty painful, but Wayne really didn't let it get in his way much. With flying for this meet over for both of us, the gimp patrol decided to head on back home. Hated to miss out on the final results and BBQ, but other aspects of life were beckoning (oh yeah, other aspects of life, I had forgotten about those...).


Tom poised to launch.
We went up to launch Friday and saw people off. Turned out to be a good thing, since Ben D. had misplaced a tip wand and basically didn't have a glider, so he used Ben R's, which we had on Wayne's truck. It was a light wind, light lift day. Several times it looked like whole squads of pilots were getting flushed near launch, but somehow persevered. Tom Flynn had a great comeback, getting really low early but ending up second for the day in sport class! Peter Wem also had a good day Friday, his flying has been very consistent this week.
Zac Majors had great flights almost every day, and won the comp. Ben, Bruce and Gerry put in very respectable performances, finishing up 6, 8, and 10th respectively in a field of very strong pilots. As for me, well, my lesson from Lakeview is that its really hard to score points on the ground ;-)

Lakeview Nationals Day 2

(or Another Rough Day in the life of Joe's Knee).

We had quite a show of thunderstorms last night, quite impressive. The weather still looked iffy in the morning but showed some indications of improving. Wind on launch was quite strong, and the race committee selected a long, mostly downwind task for the day.
I had a somewhat frustrating time over launch, climbing to 10k a couple of times and then losing it.
Wayne climbing out in front of Sugar launch
The third time I went fishing way out front as a promising cloud rolled in, caught it, and followed it over the back of the ridge. Made the gap, though not with a lot of altitude, and moved north along the front, finding patchy lift. Scratched lower, with a few promising moments but no big gains.
I had one good run up a spine, and was hoping to repeat that as I followed patch of sunlight back into a canyon near Barnes Creek. I knew I was pushing it, but apparently I had used up my reserves of caution the prior day. The lift didn't amount to anything, and when I turned back I realized had probably pushed a little too far. The glide out of the canyon looked pretty challenging. (from the track it looks like I might have had a glide out but the photo below gives a little truer indication)
There was a bare patch of gravel on the slope ahead to my right and beyond that all it was pretty much all trees until out on the flats. I had 10 or 15 seconds to think about it, concluded that chances of getting to the flats were little better than 50/50, so I went for a fly-on-the-wall at the gravelly bit.
Very nearly pulled it off but flared a bit too soon. When the glider stopped I was a few feet higher than I planned and dropped down fairly hard, hitting my knee (yes the left one) on a rock, and taking out a downtube.
My double thick pants were shredded and the knee hurt quite a bit; once I dusted myself off I was relieved to find I could still walk on it. It looked bad though, so I put some gauze and tape over it, as much not to see my kneecap swimming around as to keep junk out.
Didn't have radio contact right off, and was planning to hike out before things stiffened up, but then raised a driver, relayed my position, and decided to pack up and mark a waypoint before leaving so I could relocate the wing.
It was about 800 feet vertical down to the valley floor, and I carried my harness down maybe a quarter of it when Tom Flynn and our driver, Justin arrived below me. With a little cajoling and promises of an extravagant dinner they they came up to help me pack out the glider. It was a bit of a struggle but was fortunately all downhill (if steep), and we made it in less than an hour, with them doing the lions share, despite Tom's iffy back and Justin's sandals. Its at times like these that you learn the quality of your friends and I was lucky today in more ways than one. I'm in your debt, guys.
Got back to HQ, checked in, etc. Looked closer at the knee and decided it might need something more that Bactine and a bandaid. Gerry took me to the local ER. They were very nice (gotta love these smaller towns) and fixed me right up with a few stitches. Gerry also got a nice snap for posterity prior to the patch-up.

Doc sez don't bend it so I'm probably out of the flying for a few days, but hey an extra driver is always handy to have around. There were some impressive flights made by other pilots today, Chris Valley for one set a personal best. Way to go Chris!

Lakeview Nationls-Day 1

Day 1 task was a partial out & back, from Sugar N to Lodge and Ennis, then back to Hunter's Hot Springs, which is meet HQ. Despite generally good lift, there were some large blue holes which made the task pretty challenging. The total distance was something like 70 miles, and only two pilots made goal, Zippy and Bill Sodderquist, though several others got close. My flight started out well with a nice climb out from launch and a swift crossing of the first gap. I still was fairly high and could see strong cummies over the back ridge, which I thought I could glide to and get up again underneath. However there were not any good LZ's that I knew of, so I played it more cautiously and stayed toward the front ridge near Hwy 395. The lift there was weaker, and after wending my way along the range for a few miles, ran out of air and headed out to land.
My new streamer holder next to my camera made access easy and stress free, a big improvement over having to dig in my harness. Wind was light W off the lake and I had my best landing in quite some time, nearly perfect, and it felt good. 16 miles for the day, less than I had hoped for with such a promising start, but there you go.

The Other Side of the Scale

St John Fly-in 2008

Well this is a flight report, but from a slightly different perspective (and with a longer preamble) than usual. It may be interesting, but if you dislike semi-philosophical ramblings, this is your last best chance to duck a few.

So I was having this debate recently with a friend about what kind of risks were involved in hang gliding (among other things), and were they worth taking on, given the rewards. We talked of probability trees, how many events you had to string along together to have a really bad outcome, charmed lives and blind luck and what that might or might not imply about the nature of human existence. One of those conversations. I said I was not a risk seeker per se, but that I had assumed certain risks here and there in my life and that without allowing those into the equation there were a whole lot of really special moments in my life that never would have happened. And he pointed out that while sure I had done these things, and it had worked out so far, basically I had just been damn-assed lucky to get away with them and that I’d be singing a different tune were I big league paralyzed or so brain-bashed I couldn’t take care of myself. And I couldn’t really argue with that, I probably would be. I can only speak from where I am.

So this flight at St John was the second day of the recent fly-in, and it was a pretty enjoyable flight, and it ended with me scratching 30 seconds too long and setting up my landing 30 seconds too late and (probably (the wind was switchy) therefore) landing slightly downwind and slightly downhill and slightly not pulling it off. I slid ten yards through starthistle (in shorts) and rubbed good bit of the tan off of one leg. It smarted, but a skinned knee is a pretty minor deal in the panoply of possible outcomes. So was it worth it? Hell yeah. How about if I’d broken my glider ? My leg? My neck? Well clearly at some point most people would say it wasn’t.

But to really make that call, you’d also have to examine pretty carefully what you’re weighing against—the good things about that flight, what today I’ll call the Other Side of the Scale. The reasons we fly. As I remember and retell this, think about how frigging unlikely the whole scenario is. Rarity is certainly not the final measure of value, but sometimes I think we forget just how special some of our options are, and how few souls in the dragged out history of man have had anything like them on offer.

I got up that morning on a beautiful day on a beautiful planet, in a particularly attractive corner of that planet, and, with some people I’ve come to know and like and respect, drove up to the top of a mountain. And we brought with us these contraptions made of dacron and aluminum and (ok fine some mylar and carbon fiber too) that other people had dreamed and designed and tested and refined and bled over, so that we could just pull them off the trucks and start unfolding.

And on this sunny morning on the mountaintop we checked our gear, and rechecked some of it, and watched—truly observed--and considered-- the wind and sun and clouds and omens of said day and then stood on the rocky slope of said mountain. And at some point we checked our guts and our hang straps, checked the wind once again, and, with a deep breath and a very well focused mind, took our fate in our hands and ran down the mountain.
After that, people’s experiences were (at least superficially) more varied. Some went up, some down. Some flew long, others shorter, and everybody made their own landing. But this is my flight report, so I’ll stick to my knitting.

The goal for the day was Gilmore Peak, 11 miles distant, with a return to Mary’s for another 3 or 4 miles. Never mind was this an epic flight or hard task or not, it was the goal, and I hoped and wanted to reach it.

From this mountain, with no lift, you’d do well to get to someplace you wouldn’t have to stretch too far to call an LZ. But there was some lift, and I happened onto it, and rose instead of sinking. I enjoyed the view. And my senses were alive and I found tiny lift lines and I flew across the gap between St John and the mountains to the south, and got to the foothills some 3 miles north of Gilmore Peak, the turnpoint. I had gotten pretty low and spent 15 or 20 minutes scratching, 200 or 300 (or sometimes only 100) above the little spines and peaklets. Little puffs urged me upwards, and then piffled out and I plunged a bit closer to the trees and gave some ground, and then found another puff and got it back. Talk about alert. It took everything I had to stay up. And the whole time I was considering my glide out to the valley floor, how far from a road I might be, and what if, right *now*, I hit some sink that wouldn’t give up. Not once however, did I worry about my rent, or my portfolio, or my daughter’s grades or nagging pains or generalized existential angst. None of it.

Along comes my friend Bruce, a great guy and really skilled pilot. He is also quite low, but over the valley, on his way back after already tagging Gilmore. He comes over to fly with me, and I am a little surprised- I must look like I’m doing better than I am, or maybe he is just really desperate. Or maybe he is just being nice and hoping to show me the way a little bit. Regardless, I’m subtly flattered because we are both scratching pretty close to terrain and pretty close to each other, and he apparently has enough confidence in me as a pilot to do this. (Of course its not too long before he’s above me, if only by 100 feet--so maybe he’s just confident I won’t fall up on him ;-) And I watch and try to learn a bit (while still trying to stay up myself). We circle and flutter and swoop, its that sort of flying and its kind of cool in its own very tenuous way. And then at some point he zigs and I zag and apparently he made the better call because he is now up (if only a little) and on his way and I am down (if only a little) and give up on the last couple hundred feet of hills and head out to the valley and probably to land, though I’m still looking and working and hoping. And I get to a clear spot near the road and its not quite flat and I don’t quite know the wind direction and well we’ve talked about that already and this isn’t a technical article. Its just about flying, and pushing yourself as far as you dare (hopefully not writing checks you can’t cash), and opening your senses to the beauty and possibilities of the world around you, and really living in this moment we’ve been given that won’t be comin’ back.
And that’s what’s on the other side of the Scale.


(Plus I got 2 t-shirts and a really nifty Flytec jacket.)

King Mtn

King Mtn Meet

Day 0 Saturday (July 13, 2008)
Not an official meet day. I flew Route 1, north along Sunset ridge to Mt McCaleb and back to Moore, 41 mi roundtrip. Gorgeous flight, good lift. I got better at sussing out the good stuff, ignoring the rest. The thermals were where I expected them to be- novel, but cool. Other times I’ve had the idea but either didn’t have the time(altitude) or the faith to track it down.
Got a bit low prior to Pass Creek, but found a good one to 16,700 and never looked back. Saw Bruce returning on my way out. McCaleb was rugged and good looking up close but I didn't get my camera out until I was above it so the pics don't do it justice. Did bag a decent shot of Sunset on the return trip however.

Mt McCaleb from above.
It was a first for me in several respects: longest out and back, highest altitude, first time this site. First noted experience with hypoxia. Ben R went down in a remote canyon, I was his only radio contact and trying to relay his position to the others. I had to *really* concentrate to remember and then say "Ben is on Pass Creek one mile north of road X" --and even then had to ask him to confirm that I'd said it accurately. I had not doubted that hypoxia was real, but it was eye-opening for me to experience it so clearly. And they say it actually makes you dumber than you think you are!

Day 1
Route 3. I flew 45 mi (tied my previous best)to the cement plant near 4 corners. Got up to 13k over King in strong turbulent lift and a scary gaggle, left the gaggle N to find happier lift, sank like a rock in venturi near Ramshorn, Back down to 9k, start over player 1.
Got back up, found Gerry and Ben R, we all left at 16k. I flew faster (71 mph ground speed)than I had before.

Came in 5th for the day in rec class. Bobblehead Bums in 1st. Gerry did 48,Ben R 70, Ben D 89, Wayne 92!, Brian 18, Bruce 75, Heather 42, Chris 13.3 (PB).

Day 2
Weather sucked, did not fly.

Day 3
Sank out, landed at bailout LZ. Flared well, but no/downwind landing, hit basebar hard and bent it, also broke radio connection. Was able to fix both later, but I didn’t relaunch (serious strategic mistake). Went to hot springs w CRV, Wendy, and Brian. Good consolation prize but I still had to eat some points.

Day 4
Launched, climbed out, went over back at Ramshorn canyon (earlier than planned). Non-event but caused a stir because of my location and the fact that I inadvertently turned down my radio and so could not hear (or respond to) incoming calls. Reports of my demise were greatly exagerated.
Weather was heavy, big cells to the north, crossing from the west. I could hear Bruce and Ben (also N of me)discussing weather and strategy. Worked north behind ridge, eventually crossed to Lemhi’s. I was approaching Saddle Mountain, not quite high enough to get over, and avoiding a big cell to the north, when it started growing toward me. I was concerned about getting caught between the cloud and the mountains, and eventually decided to flee to the south.
With 3/4 VG (the max I could mostly control in the turbulence) and the bar fully stuffed, I was still ascending. Also was making very little progress to the south(9 mph per gps groundtrack) as the cloud was sucking laterally as well.
I was never that close the to cloud, but I also wasn’t getting away. My hands were getting knumb, my heart pounding(or at least should have been), but there was nothing to do but keep diving and try to hold the glider in control.
Eventually I could see incremental progress in my altitude—holding 11k, then 10,500, below 10. Even once I got down to 8k, if I let the bar out, I immediately began rising -again.
At that point I could probably have skirted the mountains (and the cell) on the south side. It would have taken me far off course, but would have kept me in the game. But I was physically tired and mentally flustered coming off the adrenaline rush of nearly getting hoovered, and thinking more of getting on the ground than anything else. So I continued diving down, throwing in a few spiral dives for good measure, eventually pulling off a perfect no-flare/no-stepper landing into a 20 mph SW wind in small sagebrush next to the road. A learning day. Bruce also landed in the valley (hopefully with less drama), while Ben squeaked over the Lemhi's to Nikolai.

Day 5
Race committee called day due to weather. Sarah, Bruce, Gerry, Brian and I went fly fishing on the Big Lost River south of the Mackay Reservoir. Gorgeous, lots of good sized (if not very hungry) rainbows. Brian tries to combine the ancient art of fish tickling with modern technology (a multiple treble hook lure) and winds up with a nice fish but also a trip to the local clinic to remove the fish/lure combo from his hand. Hey, chicks dig scars, right? Still, it was a great dinner.


Day 6
Final comp day. Despite consensus predictions of route 1, the race committee calls route 3 again. Turns out to be a very light day—hardly anyone launches before 2 PM, we all watch in disbelief as Bill Soderquist (the eventual meet winner) slowly sinks out and then whacks in the upper bailout. Finally get off around 3:45 or so, climb out without too much fuss. I’m at 12,500, slowly working north along the ridge at King, when my lift shuts off. I turn around and find myself suddenly sinking into a headwind.
Dammit! I’ve done it again, wandered too close to Ramshorn Canyon, and am again being pulled by the venturi! How stupid is this? I try briefly to scurry south, back to the lifty area, but I’m in the venturi and losing altitude rapidly. I bail over the back, flying as fast as I can, and almost immediately find huge sink, followed by major turbulence and huge sink. I have my first experience getting rolled beyond 90 degrees. I burn off 5K(and a few years off my mental life) in less than 6 minutes. I finally get clear of the rotor, but now I only have a few hundred feet AGL and am hoping to get close enough to a dirt road for some kind of retrieve. I get over a “road”, circle a couple of times to get an idea of wind direction, unzip, and pull my streamer. I’m about to throw it and start setting up my approach when I get a bump. All sense, high-alert quiver. No time for thinking, I feel another ripple, hook an intuitive left-- and start climbing. From the beginning it feels solid, after gaining a few hundred I start to breath again, then it really coalesces and I’m back in the game. A few minutes later I’m at 12k and disbelievingly see Bruce and Brian a couple hundred above. Feels like rejoining the living.

I feel the thermal topping out. They are still working it above me but I’m impatient—pull some string and head off toward the Lemhi’s. Its sinky at first and I have second thoughts, but find light lift and am making quick progress and so stick with it. Reach the Lemhi alluvial fan with better than 1K AGL, work some light stuff for a bit of buffer, then head deeper, looking for the bomb I know is there. I find it, in the exact spot I found a few days ago, and rocket up. Top out and go on glide, big sink again, but smoother. Get hammered all the way out to the valley, but then get a good lee sider and am back up with enough to make the Bitterroots. There I find strong but broken lift, try to break the inversion at 13.5K a couple times but am hornswoggled by a stuck vario (screaming lift while I core sink), get disgusted and head out with 12.5.
Plot a course north of the cement plant, somewhat away from any retrieve but closer to the maybe-lifty foothills. Soon encounter SE headwinds and divert course more to the south to stay closer to the road. It’ll end up costing me a few miles, but is more relaxed, and it sounds like nobody is getting much further anyway. I have hopes for a small ridge W of the cement plant but its dead, I burble E along Hwy 22, hopeful but slowly losing altitude. I make a single circle in 25 fpm up, but lose it and that becomes my approach. I make a clean landing into 10mph SE, 200’ from a gate adjacent to 22, for a 44 miler.

Bruce makes it to near Dubois (another 15 miles). Brian ekes a few miles further along my original line, but has a rough landing involving cactus, etc. I feel better about missing that last couple of miles.
Nothing epic, but not bad either, again tying my previeous best. And after nearly sinking out so early in the flight, the rest was all gravy anyway. I end up 3rd for the day in rec class, and pick up a couple of slots overall, to finish the comp 9th of 36 in rec class. More importantly I avoid sinking the Bums, and we finish the comp in first place with a nice margin. Yeehah!

Bobbleheads Rule!

The Wrapup
So I gained a lot of experience, learned some things, and had a lot of fun, strengthening my skills and building friendships. Normal wear and tear on the bod and wing, wore out some flipflops and lost Bruce’s leatherman, but no busted gear. A bunch of miles and gas money, but how many chances does a person get to do something like this?

1. It sometimes pays to hang out and assess conditions rather than continuing on course. A holding pattern or tactical detour is better than sinking out or flying into untenable conditions.
2. Successful XC is as much about not making big mistakes as anything else.
3. Learning when to switch gears is *key*. (not my idea but worth repeating)
Sometimes you need have faith in your strategy and stick with it, but also remain open to new info and reassessment of conditions, sometimes very quickly. If that sounds like a contradiction, it is. Nobody said this was easy.
4. I have more faith in my ability to find lift, particularly in mountains.
5. Gotta think/see further ahead, and more clearly. I'm paying attention, but still getting some rude surprises.