Chismahoo

From: Ron
Activity_Date: 3/15/02
Remote Name: 66.32.137.79

Comments

Beware, the Ides of March! Caesar should have flown with us on Friday. My Brutus was Divide Peak. Daggered my attempt to make the crossing.

The day started off perfectly; it was fun to see Sundowner's eyes sparkling on the drive up the hill. After all these years, he still is like a little kid in anticipation of remarkable soaring. He and I launched one minute apart at 10 AM. He went West, I headed East. There was no trouble except cold hands and face as I made the now familiar jumps downrange to Carpinteria. I was fighting a little East wind, but the thermals were strong and comfortable. When the West wind caught up with me,however, the conditions changed and I found myself fighting situations similar to Casey's description. The thermals were ratty and blown apart and the South that was in the wind kept trying to blow me over the back. I was in the lead, even ahead of the only hang glider. I should have been more patient, but I got frustrated as each thermal tried to whip me eastward at a low trajectory. So I took what altitude I could get at Noon Peak and told Mother Nature: "Blow me wherever you want, Sister!"

Bad idea. Nothing really scary happened, just the usual periodic wing instabilities. But I was taking the back ridge line (something SD told me this morning to never do on a West to East flight) and the lift was erratic and weak. I couldn't get up at West Divide and figured I would just dolphin along to White Ledge with my big tailwind. But even thirty miles per hour won't help in box canyons and I found myself in precarious shape in the rocky bowl between West and East Divide Peaks. I almost got blown over the back, then took a partial deflation that almost set me down on the ridge top. Suddenly, I couldn't penetrate South at all and I saw the handwriting on the wall. "E tu, East Divide?"

Now, I still had some hope once I recovered and the wing reinflated. The front points will work, I thought. But all I got were more deflations and sink. There was no lift anywhere. I couldn't believe how fast my flight fell apart. I couldn't even get ridge lift. So I headed toward Chismahoo Mountain and the road I could see there. I ran out of lift and landed forty feet short of the road. That cost me an hour and fifteen minutes getting my wing out of the brush with plenty of saw-exercise. But, in retrospect, if I had to bushwack from the ridge top, I'd still be out there. So those two miles that I managed to squeeze out were crucial. Thirty minutes after landing, I saw Kristi and SD cruise on by, getting a glide that looked about 30+ mph, never even needing to 360. I was just a little early and impatient. Chismahoo is as good a place as any if you're going to land way out. The seven or eight mile walk at least had good views of the development East. Virga was everywhere and I followed the flights of the more successful on my radio. There are no locked gates all the way to Highway 150. So I'm the person to call if you land out at Chismahoo, I've got retrieval covered.

The pitcher of Margaritas at Cabo's in Carpinteria with Dan Keyser, who picked me up, went a long ways toward making up for the grueling hike.