Despite the forecasts, or perhaps despite strong disbelief of the forecasts, the winds stayed north. The first pilot meeting at the Elks went well, and Meet Head G.W. ‘Geedub’ Meadows sent us all to Sugar, to meet for the task call at noon. It appeared that Sugar was the only hill big enough to support all 81 pilots, with two preexisting ‘official’ launches, and two additional ‘official’ slope launches marked out with ‘Construction Zone’ tape.
The wind proceeded to blow up the back at 5 the entire day. Rick took advantage of the situation to massage his glider back into flying order, having obtained a new, improved keel from John Ryan late the night before. I assisted, only setting up my own glider far enough to put the number decals on. We grouped our numbers together at my suggestion, Rick ‘I Can’t Fly’ 55, Pete ‘Rick++’ 56, and Greg ‘57 Varieties’. Finally at 4:45, Geedub called the day, just as Rick folded up his new-again glider (with only a few parts left over). We watched a few antsy comp pilots attempt to launch in light cross/down cycles, and bailed back to town, for an early dinner and bed.
Other pilots who had attended Sandia (only 3 valid days) or King
Mountain (again, only 3 valid days) griped about losing a day, but we counted our
blessings that first-day zeroes (for Greg and then Rick) were avoided.
Sunday showed light southwest flow early, promising much better conditions for Sugar. When we arrived on top, cycles were already blowing in, guaranteeing a flight that day. We scoped out the various launches. By studying the rules (‘Read the rulebook!’ GW said repeatedly…) we discovered that unofficial launches were not only OK, they had the additional advantage of preventing pilots at the back ‘pushing’ (forcing the folks in front of them to launch, or back out). If someone wanted to get ‘pushy’, they had to do it at one of the ‘official’ launches. Good for us tow headed launch wimps. Over the whole event, I think only the most-crowded main launch ever had someone push, and for good reason, the day had OD potential.
We ultimately chose a different part of the bare slope between one of the new ‘official’ slopes, and the primary launch at the bend in the road. Our self-appointed launch had the advantage of being steeper than the new ‘official’ one just to our east, and with some minor grooming (I kicked a few rocks and logs out of the way) just as clean.
The task was called to the Alkali Dry Lake rest stop, a mere 67
miles north along the ridge from the start gate. The clock could start at 12:30, and you
could start up until 5PM, but if you were that late, your time would still start at 4 and
all that additional time would accrue. So much for speed points. Goal closed at 8PM. The
start was to take a time-stamped photo of Fandango Peak, 6 miles behind launch, toward
goal. This means that you not only had to get up at launch, and go across the pass over
the back, but you then had to get high again, and take a picture of a rock from
within the right distance and angle. All this while dodging other gliders, all trying to
do the same thing, and out wait each other in the process. The advantage was to those in
any given gaggle who took their photos last, highest, and with other gliders already
marking thermals on course.
Rick launched early, about 1:15, and massive gaggles soon formed above Sugar. Fortunately, it was quite soarable, and the early gaggles soon climbed back above launch, where the tactical game of flying back to the front, and leaving higher/faster was repeated several times by the leaders. I launched at 2PM, with Greg shortly after me. Try as I could, I couldn’t get higher than 700 feet above the ridge. I was struggling, and ended down at the point of the ridge several times, lower than launch. I got up a few times, but the thermals at the point would collect in a depression on the end of the ridge, and just as they lifted above, would get torn apart by the wind rotoring around the end.
I ended up scratching for two hours, and landing at 4PM in the bailout below. I started to scramble to break down, to get back up and relaunch, but by 4:15, realized that my day was over; there was no way I’d get back up the hill and launched again (safely) in 45 minutes. The drive up alone was 35 minutes at least. So I slowed down, took my zero, and started after Rick and Greg. We dropped a free-flyer off in town, and proceeded up 395. Occasional radio contact with Rick and Greg had them north of Lakeview, about halfway on course. We stopped for gas, and I consoled myself with an ice-cream bar. I guess there is some reward in hitting the ground first…
We got on the road again, passing north into a smaller valley, and then NNE along the narrow strip below Abert Rim, a spectacular 1000-foot plateau that drops into a 15 mile-long lake. We watched several gliders land at the one or two ‘possible’ LZs along that stretch. One had to have landed on the road—it was the only flat, non-rock-strewn surface (not counting the lake). We climbed the last pass, and rolled the last few miles to the goal at about 6:15 PM. We got to watch a few gliders cruise in, including Glen Volk, who milked buoyant air down the slight slope from the pass, and squeaked across the line at 20 feet. He turned 100¡ (almost into the light wind), and broke his keel, impacting much the way Rick had on launch.
A few minutes later, Rick also appeared up out of the hills to the south, and glided down the same slope. Unfortunately, the buoyancy that allowed Glen to just make it had given way to the sink afterward, and Rick finally had to turn back up slope to land, only .15 miles short. I went out to carry his glider the rest of the way in for him; after all, I hadn’t spent the last 6 hours in the air… Greg appeared a few minutes later, gliding from the remains of a cloud street that had formed off the east of the course line. He crossed at 6:36, for a time of about 2.5 hours. Unfortunately, his film didn’t turn out, so his start time was pegged all the way back to 1PM vs. 3:30, for a total of over 6 hours. Ouch. This was the moral equivalent of making him the slowest to goal and dropped him 9 places, to 39th. Rick’s flight ended up the next in the day’s ranking, for 40th. I shared my zero with 5 other pilots. Maybe I should’ve flown with only 3 hours of sleep, like Greg…
Chris Arai smoked in with a time of 2:11:58, followed by Nelson
Howe, Mike Barber, Larry Tudor, Slade Kennett, and Kari Castle, and over thirty more.
I learned that the day before, just about everybody drifted over the back with less than 700 feet in the light winds at Sugar.
Sad, but more determined by my zero, I prepared to enter the fray once more. Rick’s ‘launch early, get it over with’ philosophy seemed to make more sense now. The task was called to Miller's ranch, about 75 miles NE of launch. They did a ‘by the way’ warning not to land in the Antelope reserve, 25 miles of officially unlandable nothingness between us and goal. I made it over the back (finally! whew!) and then fought to stay afloat for almost 45 minutes at Fandango (ack!). I finally caught a thermal below the peak, and took my photo on the way up. Rick and Greg had similar straits, and Greg was on the ground by the time I flew over Fort Bidwell, the first town over the back. I glided high above several pilots soaring a tiny (well, 500 foot) mound just within landing distance of the town. I caught a few small thermals off the unlandable canyons between Bidwell and Adel, passing over a surprising number of gliders along the one road.
Rick was unfortunately one of them, possibly even one that had marked a small thermal for me, before having to leave it in time to land. I got a few thousand from it, and had to work whatever I could from there. The Adel valley was a forbidding wet green expanse, and as I came around it to the Greaser ridge, I was down to just 1,500 AGL. I tried to get one more off the ridge, but slowly lost it, to land at the foot. I suppose I could’ve glided up onto the plateau, but the retrieve looked ugly, and there was already a glider and retrieve in the field I chose. Even got a cold Gatorade from them.
The field Rick thought had lots of little brown bushes in it turned out to have lots of little brown rocks in it, and the no-wind landing required a run-out, right into kicking a rock. Downtube, ankle, toe. Fortunately, his sprain was not the hang-it-up-and-use-crutches variety mine was last year, but the swelling would hamper his flying the rest of the meet.
Ultimately, only eight pilots made goal, (Larry won, with 1:53:39) and two pilots even hiked 25+ miles out from the desert all night. One didn’t even get back until the next evening. Hmm. Taking a zero the day after, for a few more points the day before. Yah, that makes sense…
I actually did better than half the field, ending up with 30 miles and 503 points, for 36th on the day. Unfortunately, the Flatland Flyers as a team took a hit, as Rick was 52nd and Greg 60th on the day.
Text and photos © 1997, Phammer