Wrong Way Faoro

From: The Absent-Minded Spin Doctor
Activity_Date: 3/18/01
Remote Name: 165.121.125.108

Comments

PART ONE

What a great launch! I was gaining altitude quickly; the worries about bringing up a new wing on the small hike-up launch disappeared for a second. There was only one problem. I was still looking back at the folks on launch and flying rapidly away from the hill, thank-you very much. I hurled an expletive. In this humbling situation, it was about all I could manage. This was a deja vu of sorts. I had once before hooked up my risers backwards at Chiefs in preparation to fly Topa. A serious night of drinking prior to that Sunday morning allowed me to put down the harness facing the wing and calmly put the risers straight back, instead of crossing them. Fortunately, when I brought the wing up that time, we all noticed immediately that my brakes were in the wrong hands and I aborted launch. Needless to say, I was thinking of just that time when I set up with the new wing today. So I put the harness down facing FORWARD, did a line check and then CROSSED the risers and attached them! So my mistake last time contributed to my problem this time. What can you say? We pilots have the ultimate responsibility to make this sport less inherently dangerous by careful inspection and consideration of our equipment. I do not think that I am a dangerous, stupid, nor inept pilot. Yet, while worrying about the launch and the prospects of flying a DHV 2 glider in rather trying conditions, I inadvertently put myself at great risk. I had thought after the Topa incident, "Can you imagine how you would feel if you launched and realized you were flying backwards?" I was about to learn.

A very humbling experience indeed. The only thing more humbling is to have to write it all down. But my penance is deserved. The experience is not to be repeated. I assessed my situation. I was having a great flight so far, smoothly gaining lots of altitude in soft air flying straight out over highway 33. I didn't like my odds of coming down backwards on the blacktop or in the river bottom. Then I thought, "Why not fly it out?" I tried to twist in my harness to have my lines crossed, but me facing the oncoming sky and terrain. I couldn't pull it off. Then I thought I would just fly backwards and try to get up over the spine and transition to some nice, BIG field south of the mountains. It seemed plausible at first. But, believe me, flying in that fashion strips away all your balance and finesse. I soon realized that landing was priority one, especially now that I was finally losing the wonderful up-air that held on so long, way out in front of the hills and thermals. I tried a few slow turns. Not efficient at all. I decided to head back in to the mountains. I was even with the Nuthouse and it looked like I wouldn't clear the ridge behind me with the Cozy Dell trail. Over the canyon, the turbulent air finally grabbed me and I had very poor control of the wing. The Bandit entered a spin to the right and my descent accelerated I thought, "Screw this shit!"

PART TWO

With my reserve in my hand, I swung back and forth three times before I gave it the mighty heave. It fell below me nicely. Then I just sat watching it as it hung there, completely unwilling to unfurl. This was because the Bandit had graciously started flying once again when I went hands-off to pull the reserve. But I was nearing the ridge and flying fast. I yanked on the lines of the reserve three or four times. Five seconds passed. It finally deployed. The brilliant red canopy opened up. And then the fun began. The Bandit competed with the chute for control of my destiny. I swung in the most exaggerated fashion. The pendulum had me rocking side to side in 100 foot arcs. I knew what to do. I started pulling in the paraglider, seeing the canyon oscillate below me, only about 75 feet to impact. The wing finally gave up the ghost and I gently settled in some scrub oak a split second later. I was suspended on a somewhat sheer face, about forty feet above the creek. The wing and reserve had kindly draped their lines over the bush I was suspended in. They hung, completely unencumbered, down the face of loose shale. The only trouble was, once I removed the lines, my harness and I promptly slid down twenty feet to stable ground. It didn't take long to stuff it in the sack, hike down the creek and pick up the Cozy Dell trail. I packed up at the Nuthouse and headed out. Benson kindly met me with some Gatorade a quarter mile up the road. In retrospect, I'm thankful for the spin. It settled the issue and probably kept me from potential injury in a difficult backward landing in hostile terrain.

I'm drinking a Pina Colada now. I'll definitely be thankful to celebrate my next birthday -- tomorrow!