Day
Four
The forecast was for lighter winds, mostly west, possibly going northwest, with lighter
thermals, no clouds, and an inversion at about 12,000. When we got to the top, we
discovered the right-rear tire flat, so Greg changed it, and Kat and Cliff headed for town
on the cheesy donut spare once we all left over the back. They called an out-and-back
along the range, 40 miles to Simms Ranch, and back 17 miles to Hunters RV in town. They
used a different start point, too, a county road intersection at the base of the pass,
about 2 miles west of the Fandango peak. More on the course line, and away from the LZs at
the other end of the pass with the shotgun toting tenant…
Thermalling over the start gate, Rick had the unique opportunity of watching a chute
deployment after an HP-AT tucked in the thermal above him. The pilot, Nick Thomas, broke
his ankle on impact on a cleared hilltop around the corner from Fandango. Rick’s
radio battery had failed, leaving him with no means to contact anyone. Many others saw,
though, and were able to rescue him without incident.
This flight covered the same ground as the first task, so I at least had seen it (from the
ground!). The lift was apparently not as good as that day, as I was only getting up to
11,500. I was able to climb well, although without gliders in front marking thermals, it
was disconcerting drifting back up into the mountains. I knew there were LZs in the
meadows up top, though, so I followed the course line deeper and deeper in to the range.
Only early in the flight did I have serious qualms about LZ reachability.
This flight definitely jelled for me the distinction between fun flying and competition
flying. Several times, I deliberately glided deep into unlandable territory, because
gliders were climbing there. This seems to be a threshold one must cross to compete. It
worked, I guess. I got up. I didn’t die. I wasn’t completely comfortable doing
it, though. It requires enough confidence in one’s thermalling skills to know that
when you arrive at a thermal, you can get up. I guess it’s not as balls-to-the-wall
as some fly—I at least had gliders marking the thermals. But was sort of a defining
moment for me on the trip.
Ultimately, the same choice ended my flight. The width of the Warner range increases to
a max just south of Lakeview, and I found myself down to 9,000, with the meadows at 6,000
foot on top still reachable, but no one climbing in front of me. The gaggles had thinned
out, and I kept finding myself topped out, hoping others would leave first, as they no
doubt thought of me. I ended up ahead of the gaggles I’d started with, but still way
behind the leaders, with fewer and fewer thermal markers. There was one Green-Team Laminar
about 800 feet higher than I was, further ahead and toward the flats. But the flats
beyond were unreachable if there really wasn’t lift there. He wasn’t climbing
that I could see, making it possible that it was just zero-sink. I didn’t have much
altitude to wait and see, or even to take a pass under him and still make it back up above
the inner ridge to the meadows. The fork was in the road. So I ran over it. I called to
Kat, who was helping Patti pack up a few miles back along 395. I gave coordinates, but the
mountains were rising around me, and all she got was my stressed statement, ‘south of
140.’ It was enough.
I bailed up to the meadows, hoping for a lee-side thermal. I initially had enough
altitude to glide north to the main meadow along highway 140, but then saw Greg squeak
over the ridge from the southwest, headed for the second meadow to the south. I hit a
small bubble over that field, so worked it while watching him come in. The field was
oriented north/south, and looked fairly flat and smooth. Greg stuck his landing, going
toward the south. I asked him what wind he had, as the thermal sucked me further off to
the east, away from all the meadows. I no longer had enough altitude to clear the 80-foot
trees between this meadow and the next. I continued working the thermal, just hoping that
it would turn on enough to climb faster than it drifted. No such luck.
Rick finally reappeared on the airwaves, with a spare battery dug out upon landing. He
was ahead of us, but down west of town. In the meantime, two other gliders appeared over
the ridge, gliding in below me. One dropped a smoke bomb, then landed near Greg. I glided
as far north on ‘downwind’ leg as I could. I didn’t see the smoke until I
flew south over it, on base, along the east side. The smoke indicated due west, so I had
enough altitude as I passed over it to turn 90¡ and bring it down within the short
dimension of the meadow. A slight bonk, but not bad considering it was at 6000 MSL in
2-mph wind. I turned it around, and spotted the second glider coming in right behind me
from the south. I danced the dance of wind indication, even slightly northwest, now. We
were too late getting on course, then. The optimum timing would’ve been to just reach
the turnpoint as the wind shifted.
The meadow proved to be dry, scenic—aspens, ponderosas. Kat found Rick, and came
up 140, where we were able to reach her once she climbed up the pass. They had dropped
Patti off in town, so we were able to give a ride to one of the others. Chris Arai won
again, after a lengthy 2:57:08. Twelve others made it. After 4 rounds, Chris has only 10.1
points off a perfect 4000. Lisa Verzella sprained her ankle. Rick’s is OK, but still
swollen. The tire is patched.
drive back to the Top
Text and photos © 1997, Phammer