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When I was standing up on launch at the top of Ed Levin this morning, I was fully expecting an uneventful sledride, a warm-up flight more or less, for what was forecasted to be a pretty good day. Which is why I, stupidly enough, left both my gloves and my sunglasses in the car. My camera, still unused at this point (though equipped this time with both battery and memory card), was also left in the car. Turns out, as these things often do, that I launched in what was the best window of the day, and I ended up getting a pretty fantastic hour-long flight.

I launched into a 7-10 mph smooth south cycle, and flew into ridge-lift as soon as my feet had left the ground. After making a couple of passes in front of launch, I decided I was too low, and headed for the 1200, figuring that was going to be the most I would find for the whole flight. This is, of course, where I found thermals going off in every direction. I started circling above the 900 until I was high enough to make it to the 1200, and was pleasantly suprised (read: pretty fucking ecstatic) to find that I was actually making my way above launch. Resisting the urge to go explore in different directions (I was still not more than maybe 300' above launch), I repeated to myself the soaring mantra of: "love the lift you're in", and kept 360ing.

At most times during my flight, I was constantly turning to stay in lift. And whenever I would make it above launch, the thermals would be less defined, and harder to keep track of, and I would eventually sink back down to where I started. Having that much time up there gave me a lot of opportunity to try to figure out what I had to look for in order to find lift though, and as it was a partially cloudy day, I tried as much as I could to stay above hills that were in the sun. (Also handy because my fingers were turning blue at this point.) It was also fun to work on techniques when turning in lift, trying to make them as efficient as possible (discovered that I am much more comfortable turning left than turning right).

Normally, our go-to training site is not one of those places known for allowing for a lot of inefficient turns before you are forced to start doing a landing approach, but today Ed Levin was very forgiving. I managed to work my way back above launch 5 times in the course of the flight, one of those times from a couple hundred feet above the 600'. And of course, the last time I started sinking down towards the 6, I was sure that I could do what I had been doing since I launched: slowly work my way back up to launch. Unfortunately, there was not much to be found, and instead I spent the last minutes of my flight playing around over the LZ in bumpy conditions.

The rest was pretty standard. I had a decent landing, and despite needing help after to hook out (my fingers were non-functional at this point), I quickly decided that I had not yet had enough. And so, with the help of Stan, I made it back up to the top for a much less exiting second flight. Which was fine, I guess I didn't deserve much more excitement for one day.

Log: helmet girl: 2 flights (1 hour + 10 minutes), cookie girl: 3 flights (and a sign-off!), thomas: 2 flights (one of them 38 minutes).

Wally

I feel obligated to post this incredibly cute picture of Helmet Girl and Wally. Wally is so-named because he fell from the roof and landed inside of a wall. When they peeled back the wall, they found this kitten. This was at the shop near Hull where I had my tire replaced after ignobly bursting the side-wall of my tire. I had burst two tires driving up to launch and some incredibly awesome guys stopped and helped me out. Robert and I had already tried to replace one of the wheels with the spare, but both (three?) attempts ended in failure when the car rolled backwards and off of the jack. Then these backwoods angels came out of nowhere and plugged the hole in the tread of one of my tires and tried to repair the sidewall in the other (unsuccessfully). I will admit, it did look kind of ghetto after the third plug was inserted into my sidewall...we decided that adding more plugs just made the hole bigger.

Like Helmet Girl said, the flight was terrifying. I'm starting to realize there are various levels of terror. This one fits somewhere between going to the DMV and flying straight into a barbed wire fence. The adrenaline was pumping for sure, but I didn't feel the all-consuming panic. Overall, I'm looking forward to the next flight. I know my glider can do it, and I know I can do it, so I can enjoy it next time.

Hull

So, flying Hull was pretty scary.

Standing up on launch, after hearing all the stories (and the flight plan, for that matter, which made it sound like I would be picking pine cones off the tops of trees on my way down), made me slightly concerned about whether or not it would be possible for me to make the glide down to the LZ. I had to watch both cleanpants and boy wonder launch and make it safely down before I even felt like flying at all.

Although everyone on the ground told me I had plenty of clearance over the trees, and I stuck to the flight plan and had a good launch and landing, the first ten minutes of that flight were spent thinking frantically back to previous ground schools teaching us about how to best crash into the types of trees I was looking down on (flare over them? fly into them?). That, as it turns out, was not necessary.

Even in my worst bouts of anxiety, I was determined not to let my panic get the best of me and fly the straight flight to the LZ in sink though, if I was going to crash into the trees it was going to be while following the flight plan down to a t.

The trip was not all traumatizing flights however, as our instructors got a good couple of hours of airtime, the weather was great, the lake was warm, the food was good, and we got acquainted with a large part of Hull's classy locals. Some of these locals, wearing the hell out of their trucker caps, wife-beaters and tribal tattoos were very much helpful after cleanpants managed to blow two (!) tires on his way up to launch, and also give the Subaru a couple of attractive battle scars (officially inducting it into the line of worthy hang gliding vehicles). Also, since the next sledride we have from hull will have to be exponentially less scary, I think it would be safe to call this a successful trip.

cleanpants video:

Log: helmet girl (1 flight), cleanpants (1 flight), boy wonder (1 flight). All sled-rides. All scary.

Lost and Found

A happening day for a Wednesday at Ed Levin. Headed out with Barry, cleanpants and Derrick to get D. back in the air and see what air time the days offers us.

While D. was off the 50 ft practicing basics, cleanpants and I headed to the 600 ft, looking at mild conditions, for a 3 mph west launch. Piece of cake, turns out even without your washout tube. It slid off my glider 30 ft after launch, and noone noticed. Flight was good, slightly iffy air, but I had a wonderful approach and unfortunately wheeled in another landing. Flare is my new Everest. Got to get my gymnastics body in, and really stretch and arch that spine up! Only noticed the washout tube was missing after one flight off the 50 ft. Practicing launch and landing in tall grass with snakes is a new high. Did another, and then started scouring the fields. Everyone pitched in to search. Thank you! Searched the entire 50 ft landing area, to no avail. Oh well, no more flying?

Plan B was to look for washout spare parts in Mission Soaring. D. and I hit the road back to Milpitas, where he bought some ridiculously small straps, that seemed to be exactly what he wanted ... No washout tubes for me though. 11 am. We wanted to be on the top around 1 pm, when the wind was forecasted go nice and west. It did. We were planning to call the weather service and tell them "Guys, Wednesday May 12, 2010 was the one day you got it right!". 2 hours to find the tube! I started by hiking to the 600, while clapping for the snakes at every step, and first searched the setup area. I was probably only lucky to walk another 30 ft after launch and find it. Woo-hoo!

At 12.30 we all headed up and were setup by 1 pm. An observer was launching Thomas at that exact time, and he stuck around to launch me and D. I was off first, and "off" is an understatement. I didn't have a launch run. With the wind cycling up at 7-8 mph and sometimes 10, and my nose not low enough, I stepped into an elevator, and went straight up. The observer did not like that, understandably, and did not sign my flight. 3 to go still. But was that lift fun or what. I played with it all the way to the 600, turned at the 900, then turned 2-3 times above the 600, did two passes on the 300-600 ridge, felt those arms working, and decided to land. Spot on the hang 3 spot, aka hit the LZ girl's nose; but wheeled in again! All that while watching Derrick and cleanpants do the landings of their life, zero-step, light hop, ballerina style!

Things to work on: 1/ having consistently good launches; 2/ flaring more upright and less prone; perhaps a second earlier.

Log:
40 ft - Derrick (2 launches);
50 ft - Derrick (3 launches); cookie girl (3 launches);
600 ft - cleanpants (1 launch); cookie girl (1 launch);
1750 ft - cleanpants (1 launch); Derrick (1 launch); cookie girl (1 launch)

Dunlap - Take Two

By cleanpants:
There I was- resting in the morning hours of the day on a soft tuft of grass and enjoying the warm rays coming from the sun. The previous day, I had, with Helmet Girl and Cookie Girl, a couple of sled rides from the ramp at Dunlap. Both were uneventful flights with good landings. Now, I was falling in and out of sleep. Listening to the soft sounds of nature all around me. Completely content, I watched as sunbeams dance on...

HONK HONK

I think I lost my hat when the glider truck honked at me to get up. With Ryan's help, I was up at launch in no time. Helmet Girl got off first and had a nice launch. I launched about 10 minutes later. Ryan coached me until I was inline with the LZ, coaching me over my new PTT system and helping me to hook a thermal. Anyway, knowing Helmet Girl was still in the air, I looked around, but couldn't find her. I decided to cross the gap and get to the ridge behind last chance. Then- I saw her; about 500 feet ahead of me and about 50 feet down! She had made much better use of the lift than I had, so if I had continued straight, I may have come up to her at her level or below! I decided to do passes higher up on the ridge while she 360'ed above Last Chance. She couldn't stay up over there and soon landed. I, on the other hand, managed to maintain for a little bit. And then, I started to go up!

Doing passes on the ridge, I managed to creep up to launch height (4 times according to Cookie Girl). Once I realized that I could stay up, I started venturing out a little bit and I started making a mental map of the lift along the ridge (medium lift above those rocks...stronger lift above that knob...on and off lift above the house...strong thermal just off the ridge...etc.). After a while, my arms became very tired, and I was confronted by a terrible dilemma. Only recently, I had horribly overshot the spot because my arms were so tired, I couldn't dive. But with the site turning on, I knew that the LZ was going to be ripping thermals left and right with the newly cut grass. So...do I land now into a bumpy LZ while I'm only a little bit tired or wait until things calm down and land while I'm alot tired? I decided to keep flying...I realized that I'm more prone now and that I'm using slightly different muscles flying versus landing.

Anyway, I kept exploring around the ridge, but I played around too much. I eventually got below the ridge. I tried to get back up unsuccessfully, so I went to the LZ. Like I thought, there were fairly strong thermals above the LZ and I managed to maintain for a while. Eventually, I got low enough that I started my box approach, but I lost alot of altitude turning into final. Now, instead of worrying about overshooting, I was worried about making the LZ at all! I would have been fine, except for a solitary tree in the middle of the strip! I maintained best glide until I was past the tree (missing it by 10-20 feet!) at which point I started to dive. I didn't get much speed from diving...but I managed to keep my wings level. Once I was a couple of feet above the ground, I tried to round out, but my glider kept going down. The wheels caught the ground (but they didn't turn), and I wacked. Helmet Girl came and helped me carry my glider...but I forgot to go on the radio and tell everyone I was okay! I caused needless worry. I won't make that combination of mistakes again!



By cookie girl (or camera girl nowadays?):
Dunlap Take Two was my Take One or Leave It :-o) First mountain experience, and as such a mixture of exciting, scary, unforgettable, nervous, happy, you name it. I only have one thing to say really, perpetrated by something I just read in the hang gliding magazine. A guy who learned to fly in college describes his first mountain experience. He's sitting at launch, doubting himself creatively "Was I really about to run off a mountain with a giant kite strapped to my back?" My thoughts were a lot simpler than that - "Really Gergana? Really?"


Location: Dunlap, launch altitude 4600 ft, LZ at 2000 ft
Weather: Light wind, lifty, sinky, rolling clouds
Log: cleanpants (3 flights); helmet girl (3 flights); cookie girl (2 sled rides, 1st mountain experience)