Nuthouse

[brendanpegg]

Yesterday we met at 1030 for the Nuthouse. We were kitted up for the hike, but it was hot and the motivation was not strong. We waffled at the parking lot. We rationalized that a good flight from Pine would trump any Nuthouse flight, and ultimately, wrongly, we drove past the Nuthouse and on to Pine.

We should have considered that leaving for Pine after 1030 at NHS stacked the cards against us, but we overlooked that fact. Two suburbans wound their way up the 33. Five pilots got out at the South launch, sniffed the air, held on to our hats in the howling wind, and then two suburbans wound back down the 33. We drank a couple beers and wondered how the Nuthouse would have been.

And then today, three pilots met again at NHS at 1030 kitted up for the Nuthouse. The day was even hotter, but there was no talk of Pine. One suburban made the five minute drive to the trailhead. Temperature readout on the rearview mirror said 95. I felt the heat in my lungs as I took my first deep breath out of the AC and I groaned when I hoisted my bag from the back. I had close to a gallon of water adding weight to my already ridiculously heavy bag. Covered in sunscreen and bug repellent we cinched down the shoulder straps and steeled ourselves to the task ahead of us.

Of course the hike was brutally hot and of course it was uncomfortable, but there was something gratifying about it as well. Gratifying like spending all day hiking a snowboard to the top of an untracked bowl of powder. Gratifying like pushing past the discomforts of a sauna just to feel your pores open and the toxins flow. You know you're alive when you are suffering.

And the promise of the day didn't hurt either. Occasional thermal breezes washed over us as we hiked. Looking out toward Ojai we could see the heat vapors distorting the view. Even the bugs had decided to take a break and sit it out in the shade. As we labored under our packs, a turkey vulture took an easy glide to the main spine, hooked one, banked up and in a few minutes disappeared over the back ridge. Yes, the day had promise.

Andy, Dietrich and I made launch about 1130 and we couldn't have asked for better conditions. Steady cycles pulsed through alternating between 3-10 mph. There was no need to wait, but we weren't in a rush either. I laid out first and took my time getting set up. The air welcomed me into it and on my first turn I was above launch. Soon Dietrich followed and then Andy.

I've been flying for over 11 years, and still, almost every time, before launching, we always say, "let's stick together and fly as a team." I don't think it has ever happened, but we always say it. The best of good intentions I suppose. This was Dietrich's fourth time at the Nuthouse and the previous three times he had flushed. Even from Chief's he had yet to have an XC flight in Ojai so Andy and I were intent on showing him the way to Fillmore.

I have many weaknesses as a pilot. I've learned to live with them. One is that I lack the patience to top out in the lift. I leave too low. I think that there will be better, smoother, more consistent lift further down the range and I opt to scratch on course rather than sit and scratch in one place. And I can never, ever, wait for someone. There is typically some level of fear present when I'm flying. Especially on an extremely thermic day, with gusty winds, and marginal altitude. That fear keeps me moving. "Surely the air won’t be so rough further down range." Or, as Scooby and Shaggy like to say, "LET'S GET OUT OF HERE!!!"

So, as usual, I bugged out (low) and rounded the corner to Spine One well ahead of the pack. There isn't much escape from the heat when you are flying just a few feet off the bushes. I was in my tee shirt and still I was baking hot and sweating as I continually sought out smoother air further down range.

While grovelling low on Spine One, I looked back to see Andy well above the back ridge. "Bugger! How does he always manage to do that!?" I could also see Dietrich working his way up the spine (was Andy WAITING for him? "Bugger!"). Ah well, back to work. I continued to scratch low. I continued to leave lift that perhaps I should have stayed in, and I continued to hope for something easier. Perhaps surprisingly, I found it at the Pyramid. A smooth escalator to the top, then a big smooth, fatty coming off the summit that took me to 4900. Actually even cooled down a little. Actually got to see the top of Andy's wing for a change as he came into my thermal below me and then proceeded to climb past me. (Bugger!)

Leaving the Pyramid I got another boost from the Front Points, and then really tanked up nicely at Bruce's. Got to pull the glide over to Chief's spine without stopping at the Stooges, or worrying that I wouldn't make it. The thermals were RIPPING off the spine by Twin Peaks. I caught myself making a variety of noises as I was torqued about in my harness. Most sounded like I was shot by a rifle bullet in the stomach. Some sounded like a frightened child. Occasionally I tried a little false bravado and said something like "Hell Yeah!" But my alter ego would then smirk, do an eye roll and say, "who are you kidding!"

At 5500 right in front of launch I felt like I was more than high enough to transition to East Repeater and I figured that it would be one of the easiest trips to Fillmore I had ever made. East Repeater, however, was not producing and I quickly found myself skimming over the rocks as I fizzled down to Boyd's. As I was scratching at Boyd's, feeling quite frustrated after my recent altitude gains over by the Chief, Andy got on the radio to say that he was leaving West Repeater with 6900. I had a little conversation in my helmet at that point about how much 5900 and 6900 sound alike, and surely he couldn't have said 6900. . . . He had, THE BUGGER!

Eventually I managed to climb out of the Boyd's hole and begin the glide across to St. Thomas Aquinas. As I was gliding along, minding my own business, I lost about 60% of my wing. Not one of those benign fold-up-and-fold-back-out collapses either. It was a jerk, and a WHOOSH, and a plummet, and me yelling "C'MON!!" as I tried to keep the wing from spinning, and eventually it decided to resume its shape. I don't much care for those little events.

At the hillside behind the College, I sort of expected to be landing soon. Too much scratching, too much getting knocked around, a recent "event," and I didn't want to risk a hike in the sizzling temps. Going into Tiger Country between the College and Fillmore requires a level of confidence that I was finding myself a little short of at that particular time.

However, I considered that if I landed I would end up standing on the side of the road trying to hitch back to Ojai, and I figured that I would rather make a go of trying to climb out. It was really quite miserable. I spent SO MUCH time clawing at that hillside. Of course I rounded the corner too low, certain that there would be better, smoother, more consistent lift in the bowl on the other side. But nothing was working. And did I just hear Andy report in that he was at 7500 over the Topa Topa bluffs? (Ahhhh, I'm not even going to say it!)

Frustrated with the bowl, and just convinced that nothing was going to work, I decided to throw in the towel and land at the college. But then I saw Andy come in above me, working the top ridge of the bowl. Looking like he was enjoying himself. Like the air up there was smooth, and cool, and like he was having none of the pathetic difficulties that I was experiencing. So I cursed a little and renewed my efforts to surf the bowl up to the ridgeline.

I might have actually gotten to the back ridge had I not left too early, too low. It's just what I do. So now I found myself at the foot of the mountain, by the oil pumps, with a 14 mph tailwind, and about 30 feet off the deck. 6 weeks ago I hiked out from that spot and the memory was still fresh. It is a brutal 3 hour hike and I wanted none of it today.

My determination may have helped, but more likely it was just some good luck. I stumbled into some lift, turned into the strong tailwind and parked myself as I was pushed up the mountainside. Got high enough doing that to make the next spine which lead to Santa Paula peak and then I could see that I had Fillmore in the bag. What a glorious feeling that was!

Tanked up and took the glide out over town. Getting about 25 mph and an 11:1 glide. Easy getting to the Vons LZ where I landed next to Andy. He may be a BUGGER, but it was great to fly with him and we shook hands vigorously. Dietrich had done remarkably well, despite the fact that we did not wait for him or offer him much help on the radio. For his first Ojai XC he went from one end of Ojai to the other, landing near Thatcher. Surprisingly, he had the longest walk but he eventually managed to hitch a ride and then he had the decency to drive out to Fillmore to pick us up.

After boiling my internal organs in the heat for the entire 2.5 hour flight, it sure felt good to step into the air conditioned Starbucks and slurp down a frapuccino! Dietrich scooped us up and got us back to our cars. When I got in my Suburban, the rearview said 109 and the steering wheel was too hot to touch.

Five minutes from the trailhead to my house in Ojai, then a cold shower and a nap in an air conditioned bedroom.

It was all SO worth it!!

[BobA]

Thanks for the entertaining read! Looking forward to flying Pine tomorrow for more adventure!

[andy dainsberg]

this post is fantastic. especially paragraph 4.

[Ben H]

Great story Brendan! I'm heading up to Alaska tonight to hang with Andy and Pauline. You brought back memories of the first time Andy, Pauline and Myself flew the Nuthouse years ago with Chris and we all made it to the High School. What a rewarding site! Cheers