I arrived in Bishop late Sunday afternoon after a 6-hour drive from San Diego. The 217-mile stretch from Victorville to Bishop is a straight flat desert drive typically driven at 90MPH. I saw only 1 cop on that leg of my journey who had pulled over a guy who was easily doing over 100. I was in no hurry. There would be no flying for me Sunday. Gabe called to check on my progress just as I pulled into town. I joined him and the rest of the crew for dinner at the Whiskey Creek.
The Piute launch in Owens Valley.
Torrey Pines always schedules this clinic on Memorial Day which has 2 huge disadvantages: it’s my daughter’s birthday which I’ll never miss and there’s a festival in town that day called “Mule Days”. I’m sure they do that because it’s a long weekend and that’s the best time of year for workin’ stiffs, but it’s really pointless. None of these pilots have real jobs. We don’t need to cram into town with hotel rates doubled, competing with fisherman and mule drivers. I really wish they’d push this a week out.
After dinner we made our way to the town saloon, a real western saloon. I’m surprised no one in there had a loaded holster. They were blasting country music to the lyrics of the pledge of allegiance. “We’re not in Basle anymore.” I said to Gabe, who’s Swiss in heritage. The women behind the bar were telling us they’re not “trucker suckers” because they still had all their teeth. I told Gabe and Robin that the night was going to be a success as long as we didn’t find ourselves kicking them out of bed. Somehow as the night went on I found myself giving choke-hold strangle demos to some pierced-faced guys hanging out in front of the joint. I don’t remember how that started. I just remember it was a natural progression.
First thing Monday morning we piled all our gear in the back of the TPG truck and climbed to the Piute Launch (N 37˚31.155’, W 118˚17.656’). Getting on the back of that truck with 4 other guys (1 kid only 15 actually) reminded me vividly of one of my favorite quotes by Hellen Keller, “Life is a daring adventure, or nothing at all”. The steep climb up the rocky road was enough of a thrill to count out half of the folks I know, nearly all the folks I know my age. But the promise of free flying perhaps up to 50 miles was luring all of us to the top.
My biggest challenge was that I didn’t know how to handle thermals. I didn’t know what they felt like. I merely feared them because they can collapse your wing.
After launch I caught my first thermal. Gabe instructed me through a series of 360’s, but I wasn’t getting much lift and I was heading toward the canyon which we were instructed to avoid. I bailed on the thermal and started fighting the wind trying to find another. I found a bubble, but I couldn’t really work it. I struggled for a while losing a lot of altitude. Finally I landed right on the road. It was a short flight but I wasn’t disappointed. I got some feel for the thermals. That’s what I wanted.
One of the women there is an XC champion, Kari Castle and a local, from Bishop. She and Meagan, the only other woman, ended up flying over 50 miles that day to near Independence. Girls definitely won the first match of boys against girls. I was nearly certain they’d win every match with Kari on their side.
Kari Castle.
Here are the lessons I learned from that flight:
- Keep the wing flat by not letting up on your outside brake
- Keep your turns consistent. This way you’ll float along with the wind and track the thermal as it is moved along by the wind.
- Keep mental notes of where you are in the turn when you feel the edges of the thermal, that is 12-o’clock, 3-o’clock, etc. This way you can make minor adjustments to get to the core.
- Most morning thermals are bubbles, not columns. When they crap out move on and look for more downwind.
- Thermals rise from ridges, spines and pinnacles. If you turned the mountain upside down these are the areas where water would flow down from. (an analogy from Kari)
I was eager to get back up, but I had to wait for late afternoon, almost evening. It’s too strong at mid-day.
We spend the day retrieving other pilots with the furthest flights as I mentioned from the girls. It’s a great spirit of camaraderie in the pick-up vehicle. GPSs have made this task much easier, but a lot of the navigating is still done with visual landmarks. Trying to get to the girls was frustrating. There were a lot of fenced off areas. They landed right in the middle of the LA basin’s water supply. Google maps would have helped a lot. I wished I had my laptop in the truck. We passed a nasty old cow carcass. This heap of leather and bones was impressive. I marked the waypoint on my GPS as “Dead Cow”.
Later in the afternoon we went to Flynn’s for another launch. My 1st ride was horrible. I was frustrated and disappointed. I started packing my things as I didn’t expect another ride. To my surprise Robin came to get me and my gear and ran me right back up. It was about 7 when I launched for a 2nd time. This was a much different flight. I was getting lift but there were not distinct thermals. The valley floor was glassing off. Lift was everywhere.
Mentally I wasn’t in a good place. I didn’t like being in the air. I wanted thermals and I wanted to learn. I was just getting a free ride from the glass-off. I started heading to the cars at the bottom of the hill. I decided to at least pull off a pinpoint landing at the cars to accomplish something of skill.
After navigating to a good glide point I started a final approach, but I was unable to go down. In fact was rising at about 20-feet a second. I tried doing some mild wingovers to lose some altitude. I didn’t want to get to aggressive as the wind was rockier than I liked. Nothing. I was still going up.
This was disconcerting. I felt out of control. Finally I relaxed a bit and just waited. I was being pushed back. I put on full speed bar but could not penetrate. I pulled big ears and finally started to sink. With big ears on I could have had a gentle landing but just at the last second I popped them back out and popped up 20 feet. That wasn’t smart. Thankfully I descended gently and started packing my gear.
I was still in a bad place mentally, frustrated, disappointed and not really looking forward to my next flight. At dinner that night Megan who is an excellent pilot shared her experiences with me when she was at my skill level. Her husband Eric regularly would soar for hours at Marshall while she waited at the LZ. That helped. I watched “Performance Flying” that evening where Jockey Sanderson said, “When you find yourself getting scared focus on something positive, Where’s the lift.” I wasn’t as scared as frustrated, but the principal was the same.
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