Eastward Ho!

Well for those who have been living under a rock, I've headed to Key West. Unloaded most of my stuff, put my paints and fins in the car and am on my way. Weather has held nice, I'm making good time and seeing friends along the way. In Denver today, turning right tomorrow. Nice rocks in Utah.

Slaying (the dragon at) St. John

Well, a comeback of sorts.

First, a Lengthy Preface:
Had a pretty rough downwind landing at Dunlap this April, sustained some neck and ankle injuries that took their sweet time healing up. Took a few flights since then (at Mission, Slide and Yosemite), but until recently it was still pretty painful, and more disturbingly, I was a lot more nervous than I'm used to. A little edge on launch is normal for me (for most people, I think), but this was to the point where I almost didn't do it a couple of times. I had not flown Slide or Yosemite before, and both launches are a tad more intimidating than most, but still...
The bigger issue was that the fear was messing with my flying. That became crystal clear to me (and maybe everyone else) at Yosemite. The LZ (Ledig Meadows) is *h*u*g*e*-- hundreds, maybe a thousand, meters long. The desired spot for convenience is at the end, where everyone breaks down in the shade of the large trees. The Saturday, not wanting to have anything to do with overshooting the spot, trees, other gliders, etc, I erred on the side of caution-- by 1/4 mile. Just ridiculous. How odd, I thought, to have misjudged so radically. Oh well, new place, etc... then did the exact same thing Sunday. Hmmmm.
It was clear to me that I needed to either back up a step, fly some easy, familiar places, get my confidence back... or just hang it up. Which I seriously considered. There were other factors as well--I've been pretty focused on painting the past year or so, the whole summertime competition/travel thing was looking like a big interruption of that, my girls, having been gone for most of the past year, would be around for at least part of the summer, I didn't want to be painting from a wheelchair, that kind of thing.
Well the calendar keeps rolling, the Sonoma Wings meet at St John was coming up. Its one meet I've gone to every year since I could. Not an easy site by any means, but I've always liked it, and usually had pretty good flights. Plus they do a great BBQ. I decided to go again this year.
My friend Eric Heinrichs (who is also an instructor), who knew a little of my situation, got wind of that and phoned me up-- not to discourage me from going, but to do the practice flights I knew I needed prior.
Thanks Eric.
Weekend before last we met up at Levin and got in a flight there-- good launch, good landing. More would probably have been better, but at least one to the good. Which brings us to this weekend.

On to St. John
Conditions were expected to be OK, but not great. Didn't matter, we were going. The crowd was a little light this year. Some out of the country, some didn't like the weather, a bug was going around and several had to drop out the day of the comp. But those who came were enthusiastic as usual. The first day was open distance with an option of coming back for double points on the return miles. I launched middle of the pack, got to 9 K without too much fuss. Stayed over the mountain trying to get higher, but ended up getting below launch and having to scratch for a while. That took 45 minutes.
Most people had already left and were 15 miles uprange, so I was happy to have a couple of sailplanes flying around and marking lift. The nice thing about those guys is they cover so much sky-- they're more likely to find the *good* lift as opposed to just something going up. That helped me top up over the mountain to 10k; then I headed north.
Some cummies were forming over the mountains but they were pretty deep, didn't think I wanted to be back there. I wasn't finding a lot to work where I was, but the sink wasn't bad either. Past Felkner Ridge I noticed the faintest possible wisp, no, it wasn't even a wisp, more like the fog over your coffee, but it was going up compared to me, and wasn't too far away, so I flew to it and was rewarded by nice lift that only got stronger as the Q blossomed above me. Ended up higher than the cloud, over 10k again, and kept going. Saw a similar formation later but again it was too deep in the mountains, and was not clearly going up. As I continued away from it, it too became a substantial cloud, and I believe the heavy sink I experienced then was due to that cloud. If you're not in the lift, you're in the sink. Remember that.
The flight continued uneventfully. At Red Mountain (~20 miles) I turned back upwind, toward Stonyford, to get some of them double point miles. I was flying conservatively, didn't want any more sketchy landings. There was light lift, but drifting back in the thermals provided no net gain upwind. Made it back 6 miles, which turned out to be the high point flight that day.
Sunday also was better than forecast. Launch conditions were a little squirrely, with mixed crossing cycles. I thought I had a good window, but turned (or was turned, still not sure, probably some of both) hard left about 3 steps into my launch. I was too close to the (harsh, sharp, volcanic) rocks surrounding launch, but stopping wasn't an option so I flew as best I could and managed to clear everything. I'm pretty sure I heard a big sigh behind me as I got away from the terrain. Or maybe it was just me ;-)
Pretty ratty over launch, we'd seen one dust devil earlier (first one I'd seen at St John, I think the trees usually dissipate them), and I got a full on, slack strap twang about 250' over. Not enough clearance for that kind of crap. Eventually hit 9k and went south, the day's course. Got a few miles past Gilmore Peak, noticed I wasn't getting the predicted northerly tailwind, an decided to try back to Stonyford. Broken lift over the foothills kept me going for a while, but I was slowly losing altitude.
I really wanted to make Mary's, might have been able to (I'm sure Ben or Bruce could have done it had they been there) but I was committed to landing safely, which for me meant not scratching until the last moment. I picked a nice field, circled it once, and set down a mile short of Mary's. Missed those 10 bonus points and the spot landing, but kept my confidence intact and had a pretty decent flight overall. I was happy with the decisions I'd made. And combined with Saturday it was good enough to take home a spiffy set of speedsleeves from the prize table ;-)

And yes, the BBQ was excellent. I may not fly as much this year as in the past, but its nice to be back.

Soaring Tam

Wanted to catch up a little on a nice flight earlier this spring. Went to Tam w Paul Gazis, meeting a few other pilots up on launch after signing in below. I'd been a couple of times before and gotten sledders.
This was a slightly snarky day-- light northish wind splitting the ridge and sometimes coming over the back. Still, it was sunny, postfrontal, and the odd cycle would straighten out the wind on B launch and most of us eventually set up.
We waited, hoping for the wind to come around west, but it never did. After one particularly long lull, during which I thought we'd seen our last launch opportunity come and go, I decided to take both balls in hand and get off the mountain.
I waited on launch quite a while. The flag high up on the ridge is a godsend- saved me from several false starts where I would have been tempted to go but could see it clearly blowing down. I was finally rewarded with a strong if slightly cross cycle, and took it.
Got some ratty lift pretty soon after launch and was working it for a few minutes when I saw Paul get off also. We were over the first knob on the way to the beach, with me maybe 300' higher. Didn't seem like a lot, especially with the rowdy air, but it made a difference. We both worked it for a while but I was making slight net gains while Paul, in the trashier air below, was slowly losing feet and eventually had to head beachward.
Eventually I climbed to cloudbase a bit over 3k where the lift got more consistent and much smoother (though not exactly silky). Phil joined me on his rigid and we benignly ruled the sky for an hour or so, surveying our realm North and South, gazing east toward the hinterlands of SF Bay and beyond.
Seemed like the northerly flow was turbulating over the ridge, and it was a matter of catching a strong cycle off launch (and a bit of luck) to get above that mess. I had heard tales of serious spankings ("most terrified I've ever been") in stronger winds of this direction, and was seeing how that could be. Got spit out of couple of doozies, but kept climbing back up.
Must admit to a touch of schadenfreude watching 5 or 6 pilots (Berkeley, I think)go off the C launch in quick succession (small launch window?) and, in equally quick succession, sink like rocks (or maybe just lemmings without wings) and scurry toward the sea.
I flew further NW over the estuary toward Bolinas and found light but very general lift--a convergence was starting, and soon I could see a long cummie-like ridge forming along the coast headed toward Drakes Bay. Pt Reyes/Drakes looked like a real possibility, but I hadn't made any XC plans and didn't know the area well enough to just go. Still and all, a gorgeous flight, and nice introduction to Tam soaring.

Something a Little Different

In life BH (before hanggliding) I used to freedive a lot. Hadn't done much recently, but a friend's 40th B-day provided an excuse for a reunion of good friends and a week of diving in Baja (Sea of Cortez side).
Seth Hopkins, Mario Korf and I flew down to stay with Chay Ochoa at his place near la Ventana, just south of LaPaz. Beautiful area, and Chay knows all the local spots. He was gracious enough to share a number of them with us.

We mostly dove from a panga at various places around Cerralvo Island. Dawn departure was the rule. First stop was to net some sardines for chum/bait. We all rolled over the edge into the wonderland. It was only 8' deep and not full of other-wordly colors like some of the coral reefs of the tropics, but teeming with life. A 20 lb roosterfish came up to greet me. With the low morning sun and sense of promise for the days ahead, we were almost giggling with pleasure.
Proceeded to dive a south-end reef called la Traversada, a mostly flat rocky expanse from 50-70 feet deep surrounded by sand. Viz was good enough to spot larger fish from the surface as they meandered in and out of their homes in the undercut ledges and cracks of the rock. I was a bit out of shape--hitting the bottom, but not getting a lot of time down there. Still, I tagged a decent pargo amarilla, as did Mario. Seth took the biggest pargo at 14 or 17 pounds. Also saw some cabrilla, but no monsters. Nice warm up diving.
Moved on to blue water, drifting over a pinnacle/reef call la Reynita several times. I saw lots of bait, and a wahoo made a brief appearance, just long enough for me to get a shot off, but didn't connect.
We had intended to dive maybe 3 or 4 days, breaking it up with a little kiteboarding at some point, but great weather/viz kept us returning for day after day, rising before dawn for coffee before the ride out, generally staying out 9 or 10 hours, most of that in the water, getting back around dusk. By the 4th day we were all pretty whipped: sunburnt, chafed, waterlogged, a little tired, peppered with little cuts and stings, but had started seeing more pelagics (tuna and wahoo), and in the end decided on one more day out. Good choice.
Day 5 turned out to be truly epic. Very light wind, almost glassy, 60-80' vis, and the fish were *in*. Most of us had never seen a wahoo in real life before this trip, and yet today we were getting schooled, often by groups of 5 or 10 at a time. Numerous times I saw a single or pair come by, and they were even bigger.
Day 4 had been frustrating for me, as I missed a good half-dozen shots. I was hunting with a Rob Allen 130 I'd used often before with good success, but I just couldn't seem to hit anything. I thought I was waiting until they were close enough in, but Seth saw one shot from above and gave me the clue: the super clear water and large fish had me pulling the trigger with the fish over 25 feet away (probably over 30' the first couple of times, and the gun's effective range is only 18 at most. I could hardly believe it, but the evidence was abundant.
Chay loaned me a gun for day 5,one of Chris' Sea Sniper masterpieces a big teak 4 band with enclosed track, ~30' range, dead-on accuracy. After several dives in which fish approached and I let them pass, I finally got the opportunity I was looking for. A pair were coming my way, with a third in the distance. I was ready--relaxed and well oxygenated. I slipped beneath the surface without spooking them, eased down to 25 feet and waited, keeping my eyes elsewhere as they slowly grew curious and drifted toward me. I was nearing the end of my breath but still held fire, determined not to repeat yesterday's mistakes. Finally two seemed within range, and were hesitating, not coming closer. I felt that moment before the penny dropped, lined up on the larger and fired. Fish and line instantly vanished in a vortex of bubbles, though I could still see the float another 30' below me. I swam after it on the surface and then began playing tug of war--it was a strong fish, might have some size. Got dunked a few more times bringing it within view again. Mario offered a second shot, but I thought mine was solid and declined. Finally swam down, got the fish in hand--it was a good one. Boated the fish, ate the heart, got a few pics. Good day. Good friends, what a life we have.

A track from last spring: Ed Levin to Mission Peak and back

St John Fly-in

So after driving all to hell and gone this month going to the big comps (Chelan, the nats at King) only to find tough conditions and short flights, I had one of my most enjoyable flights this year at the Sonoma Wings Fly-in.
This is my third year going to the event. The road up to launch is longish, so I only go once a year for the meet. The Wings are a great crew and put on a really fun event, with a challenging, interesting site, a nice flat LZ/camping area (complete with irrigation ditch for that post-flight dip to rinse the dust and cool the soul), and Ernie and EC's incomparable BBQ. Its one of the most consistently enjoyable events I attend.
The task Saturday was an optional open distance/out and back, pilot's choice. Double points for the return leg made it look pretty attractive if the wind wasn't too bad.
I got up to 9300 or so over the peak in somewhat turbulent lift and headed north along the main ridge, a little bit out in front of it in respect of the long glide out. The lift over the spines was tricky-- some strong pockets that made you think you were getting somewhere, but I was consistently losing altitude crossing over the first 3 spines. Also the wind direction seemed to be shifting at different altitudes, so I was having a hard time get a fix on it. At one point I got lower(4K) than I liked deeper in the range than I liked, and found myself working hard in ratty lift just to stay up over the trees. My shoulder was starting to act up with all the manhandling the glider required, and then I could barely see through all the sweat and sunscreen running into my eyes, so I was pretty relieved to finally scratch up/out to a point where I clearly had a good LZ on glide.

I caught my breath and assessed my position, the terrain, the wind, and decided I had gotten as far north as I was going to, and if I was going to sink out, I would at least go for some of those double-point return miles on my final glide. There's a smaller N-S ridge in the middle of the valley which looked like the best potential trigger point, and getting over it would make the retrieve easier, so I headed that way. Then things started getting really nice. I found a fat, lazy thermal over the ridge. No rocketship, but so smooth, easy and consistent to circle in I didn't mind waiting a little while to get my altitude. Got up a little over 5k and kept cruising south, no serious sink and regularly spaced thermals took me back up whenever I got down near 3K. The wind had backed off or shifted, so I had no headwind, possibly a slight tailwind most of the time. Really relaxed flying, but low enough to have a nice view of the rural landscape. Still had to pay attention as the road meandered nearer and farther from the ridge, but after a while I got pretty comfortable with the idea I was going to make it back all the way to Stonyford, and just started enjoying the scenery. Couldn't pick out Mary's place in the valley (the LZ) right off, kept scanning around until I realized I was right over it! Still had lots of height, so I kept south toward the foothills near Gilmore Peak. Thought I could tag it and get back, but didn't want to spoil the day's relaxed ambiance, so I cruised back, did a few wangs on the way down and came in between dust-devils for an uneventful-if-slightly-clumsy landing in dead calm. 3:24 flight time, 16 miles out, 17 return, big grin.

Sunday was a race to goal, tag Gilmore and land at Mary's. Flying my first timed event was fun, definitely a different mindset than just going for miles, another layer of strategy. I spent a little time going for another 1000 feet over launch, but eventually got it, and went on a long smooth glide for the turnpoint. Tagged it, skipped a nice thermal over it, thinking I could just glide back, and immediately regretted the choice as I hit heavy sink. I got just about out of the foothills, but the glide to Mary's looked iffy, so I spent 8 minutes in weak broken lift there to gain 400 feet, which turned out to be just enough to get home. While I was scratching, Monty, my nearest competitor, who had launched just after me, passed me by 1000 feet higher, argh.
I raced to Mary's, getting there maybe 250 over, but now my low altitude was to my advantage as I swooped in to land just before Monty. Fun, though he still beat me by a couple of minutes on elapsed time.
The two days together were enough to get 3rd place overall and a nice new glider bag. I'll be back next year. ;-)

Sweet day in Monterey

So I'm going off topic here for a bit to revisit one of my (semi) past loves, freediving. Heard there were halibut in pretty close at Monterey, and just had to go look for'em. As it turned out, didn't see many, but still had a beautiful dive.
The sea was dead flat when Mario and I rolled up, sunny, with some patchy fog offshore and enough breeze to give a little ripple to the surface texture. We suited up and entered the water near Lover's Point. The shallows were quite clear, but once you went out a little way the top 10-15' took on a decidedly yellow-red tint (nacent algae bloom, I think) and the vis was only 5' or so. But on each dive, you would pierce that layer and suddenly it would open up to 30-40 and was just stunning. The top layer completely diffused the incoming sunlight so that everything was bathed in this perfectly even glow, and there was no surge at all, so it was crystal clear all the way to the bottom The overall effect was like sliding into a frozen crystal, everything still, everything perfect, and as I slowly came to rest near the bottom, I became part of that seascape. Felt like I could stay down forever.
Hadn't been diving much lately, so I was taking it pretty easy, but after a little while somehow that relaxed approach flowed into some really nice, long dives. The water was a relatively toasty 56, which also helped.
Anyway, after 3 magical hours we left, having spooked a couple of small flatties and played some with the harbor seals which were abundant that day. Reminded me of why I love diving.