I contacted Jérôme Daoust of expandingknowledge who's raved about Marshall and invited me up at the thermals clinic I took in Baja nearly a year ago. He directed me to Rob McKenzie. After a few emails back and forth we were unable to book a tandem lesson. If you want to book a flight with Rob I highly recommend you call him: (909) 883-8488.
Rob McKenzie.
Gal and I made the trek up to San Bernardino from clear and sunny Carlsbad and noticed a range of differences. San Diego is pretty much smog-free. The sea dominates. You can smell ocean salt in the air all the way in the hills 5 miles inland. You know you've passed Temecula when you see the piss-yellow traces of smog starting to color the sky. San Bernadino is desert. As you approach through Riverside it's flat and dusty. We also passed the March Field Air Museum a worthwhile stop for another day. We passed by mega-warehouses full of all the crap that people in LA want to buy. It's easy to get cynical in such a blighted environment.
Being from the east I could never understand how suburban LA towns that looked so nice could be so crime-ridden. Everyone has a nice yard, there's plenty of space between buildings. In New York the bad neighborhoods look like bad neighborhoods. They're crowded, dirty. People look at you with anger.
San Bernardino is clean and well-maintained. The murder rate is 25.9 per pop. 100,000 in comparison to Los Angeles' 13.9. You'd never know it to look at it.
As we arrived at the Andy Jackson Airpark I felt like we were on the edge of the moon. The mountain is dry. I couldn't help but think the thermals must be outrageous here. First I met Rob's wife Diane. She was cheery and friendly. She pointed out Rob who was folding down a hang glider. I introduced myself and we had some lunch. Rob and Diane run a shuttle service up to the launch. They've been doing this for 15 years. This is a unique couple. You could see a lot of love and synergy between them.
Gal surveying conditions on the Marshall LZ
At launch Diane helped me hook into the tandem. The wind seemed about 12 mph or so. I didn't have an anemometer. I'm so used to the gentle conditions of Torrey I had no idea what I was in for. The air was dense with smog. You could see well into the basin, but what you saw was hardly beautiful. It was urban sprawl. I don't have many nice things to say about the environment at Marshall, but let me at least say this: I'd love to see it on a clear day. I'd love to see the whole LA basin from Crestline, another launch a few miles away. I'm sure it's an awesome sight. There is red clay mixed with the green oaks the cling to the valley crevasses. It's a bit like Phoenix, it has that kind of rocky beauty that brings the geologist out in some. Today we saw a few miles of piss-yellow smog. I'm sure that day of beauty will come.
Soaring above LA's piss-yellow smog.
Rob gave a quick lesson: "The most important thing is to control your pendulum: keep the wing over your head. When the wing falls back: breaks up, when it surges forward, apply breaks. There are some exceptions. Suddenly you may feel like you're free falling, apply some breaks right away." That last part was a bit contrary to my teaching. I didn't question it at the time because I figured we'd just encounter it in the air. I think the bottom line is keep in touch with your wing by keeping some constant pressure. I plan on returning in a few weeks to check that again.
He added, "I think of the wing as a 4-wheel drive vehicle where each wheel is trying to keep hold of the road. The 4 points are the 2 breaks and 2 carbiners." I liked that analogy and it added a lot to my understanding of what he was getting at. The bottom line: this is an active piloting site. All active piloting techniques will be used here.
We waited for the end of a thermal cycle and took off.
This was my very first tandem ride. It was amazing to take off and be in the passenger seat, a lot less pressure that's for sure. When you're riding a mountain site you get more lift on the ridges than valleys. We rode the house thermal from the ridge that leads to the launch and spotted a hang glider circling so we went over the see if we could catch his thermal. There must not have been much lift as he seemed to break his pattern as soon as we arrived and gave a loud "Hello!". We continued down the ridge.
Rob explained that there's not much lift at the ridge or worse you can end up getting some sharp turbulence at low altitude there. The better thermals are down below at the foothills. This is difficult for many visitors to understand, especially Europeans who are used to mountain soaring.
After a minute or so he gave me the controls. You need twice the pressure to control a tandem wing and it didn't take long for me to feel it in my arms. He asked me to head off to another ridge where we found our first thermal. I turned, but not aggressive enough. He took the controls again and we found it. Within a minute or so we were well above the launch. I had never ridden a thermal up before. It was amazing, a bit scary, but nothing less than amazing. The thermal weakens at the top and you don't so much need to leave it as it gives up on you. There's a lot of sink at the sides.
This may be stating the obvious, but for me it was all new and exciting. I still feel it right now just recalling the experience.
Okay, these thermals fucking rock!
The turbulence at the edges of each thermal was disconcerting to say the least. At each encounter with a thermal the wing surges back – breaks up! Then surges forward - breaks on! We counted the seconds to make sure it was worth riding and began the turn. You're kind of just gliding along, then all of the sudden: pop! The wind picks up, the wing is partially collapsed in 3 different ways. You need to know what you're doing. I don't have that confidence yet, but that is the whole point of a lesson.
These collapses were completely different from the self-induced collapses I practiced at the SIV clinic. They were completely dynamic. It seemed there was always something to do, that is, you went from one collapse to the next.
Gal wasn't launching, and Rob noticed that he was packing up his wing. He radioed to ask what was up. Gal said the gusts were far too strong for him to feel comfortable launching. I felt bad Gal wasn't getting a ride.
We continued on and 15 minutes or so later we were getting closer to the LZ, with another 1,000 feet to go. I started asking about landing approach alternatives. Then all of the sudden: pop! This was a big one. We circled, the wing collapsed and popped back out at the edges of the thermals. We were climbing about the height of Torrey with each circle. This was a strong thermal. Then something else unexpected happened: the turbulence went away. We were climbing at the same rate, that is to say, very fast, but it was a clear and calm as a sled ride at Torrey.
At the center of the core it's calm. It's beautiful. Completely unexpected. It's something like the eye of a hurricane. I have an altimeter in my watch that said we were at 6,100 feet. We went from getting ready to land to the inversion layer. Nothing less than completely amazing. I felt like I was on some kind of drug.
We continued off on our former path. We were not losing any altitude at all. 15 minutes later I looked at my watch. We had been flying for over an hour. I looked down and saw Gal sitting on the fence. He still wasn't flying and I was having the flight of my life. We hit many smaller thermals including one very lumpy one after that, but none were as strong and smooth.
We headed over to a new housing development hoping for another thermal, but there was nothing there. Then we made our landing approach. You've really got to look at each of the wind socks at the Marshall LZ. They could be blowing east or west within a few seconds. At one point I saw the two edge socks pointing towards each other. You've got to use great care.
We hit some sink just 40 feet above the LZ which took us down hard. Rob was very apologetic about that but to tell you the truth I was numb from the excitement of the whole experience. It was wonderful. I checked my GPS. We were in the air for over an hour and a half. We had at least 2 strong thermals that took us to the inversion layer. I heard Rob tell someone on the ground that we only left 1 deliberately.
There was a new group forming for another run to the launch. This was my chance to fly on my own and I took it. I grabbed some fruit for Gal. I was sure he was hungry. The food we bought at Whole Foods was pretty much disintegrating in the heat of the SUV.
The truck we took up was owned by Mike and Linda Meier the folks who run Wills Wing . It's a great community there. Everyone was friendly and welcoming. They were flying some new test models. It was amazing to see them assemble their gear and take off, with absolute skill.
Gal and I talked and measured the wind (He did have an anemometer). It was still gusting to 18. He said it's better to be on the ground wishing you were in the air than in the air wishing you were on the ground. I admired Gal's patience. I described the experience I had a Baja last time where I failed to launch 3 times and grew very frustrated. I should have done then what Gal did that day. It's stupid to launch just because you don't want to walk down the hill. I tend to forget that paragliding is dangerous.
I don't paraglide because I'm a thrill seeker. I do it because I think it's beautiful. Regrettably, I think that perspective could be just as dangerous as seeking thrills. Both tend to downplay the danger.
Gal's example is one I'll return to. I'm sure it will save my life one day. He said, "What makes you safe isn't your skill in the air, it's your skill on the ground reading the conditions, knowing if you should take off at all."
Flight 92:
After an hour of good conversation the gusts were slowing to 12. I told Gal, "If I can kite I'm going to take off." I inflated my wing and all seemed well. I ran towards the ridge knowing that the compression there could blow me 100 feet in the air, ready to lay off the brakes, but there was nothing there. I eased into my harness and enjoyed the ride.
The ridges at Marshall
The flight plan was to have a fun sled ride. I was going to ride the house thermal down the ridge to where it was very safe. If I found a thermal I'd try it, but I wasn't going to go looking or scrape. Within 5 minutes I was at the LZ. I did the same approach as Rob took and had a simple, gentle landing. A icing finish on a cake of a day.
I saw Rob preparing to leave in his truck. I ran over and thanked him one more time. I can't recommend a tandem with this guy stronger. He doesn't talk much, but everything he says should be committed to memory. He's a great teacher.
Gal finally launched. I watched his quick flight. 4 hours of waiting and a 5 minute sled ride. The lesson here is you should prepare for anything at Marshall.
I offered Gal a great steak dinner at a French place I like in Temecula. He refused to go to a French place. We probably weren't dressed for it as well. Over the phone Gal's wife, Cheryl, googled "steak in Temecula, CA" and came up with a few alternatives including a Brazilian steak place one of my nannies, Andrea, raved about.
We should have known when we approached the address. It was a mall. Not a strip mall, a big-ass, "Spencer Gifts" type mall. Anyway, we were hungry and I could still hear Andrea say how much she wanted to take me and Allison there. It sucked. There was nothing Brazilian about it. It was a Sizzler with tropical decor.
I love Argentine steak, not a Texas steak prepared in an Argentine style, but meat from a cow who lived in Argentina. If you've ever had Argentine steak you know what I'm talking about. If you haven't, you may never, unless you visit Buenos Aires. There is a ban on exports of beef from Argentina: click . I don't know much about Brazilian beef, but my curiosity was high. I was more than flatly disappointed.
Avoid – at all costs – the Rodaviva Brazilian Steak House in Temecula. It was the worst meal of our lives. We kept the windows wide open the rest of the ride home to avoid vomiting.
What a shitty day for Gal. All that waiting at the top then a sicking meal at the end. I wished there was something I could do. Suppressing my gag reflex, I was still on could 9.
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