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Bush Whackin

From: bh
Activity_Date: 3/19/02
Remote Name: 4.35.216.65

Comments

I admit that my first chaparral landing on Tuesday was more than a slight error in judgment--a boneheaded move it ever there was one, expecting a little more turn on the first 360 above launch and not finding it. I plowed into the bushes about even with the upper steps, just 20 feet or so below the roadway.

I had the feeling that one of these days I'd overestimate the turning radius of my new Sport. Of course, falling out of the thermal complicated my planned trajectory and, because my handsaw is languishing somewhere between here and Thailand, it wasn't available when needed. Not moments before launch, Ron Faoro bragged about the saw in his backpack, reminding me that it was available if needed. By the time of my reconnection to earth, however, the good doctor was over the R&R at 4000+ with Mark Stuckey (flying his first thermal in an even newer Sport) and for some reason, my plight didn't move either one of them to top land and bail me out.

Fortunately, Randle was stuck with the job as the only pilot not yet soaring on a fabulous day with strong thermals and gorgeous views in every direction. After pruning the bushes and listening to Faoro rag me about being late, I helped Randle launch, then it was my turn to make up for lost time.

I kited my wing a moment to confirm that nothing but my ego was damaged, then turned in a good cycle and entered the void. Immediately, and with little indication that a problem loomed, I spun into the hill, just 15 feet or so below the lip. As I struggled to right myself and once again pull lines from every bush within reach, Irene, Kevin and Glenn appeared as if on cue to assist me. (Faoro, by the way, was by this time headed toward the beach. He missed my spin so was unable to objectively compare the finer points of my first to his many.)

The third launch from Skyport was a charm. Because Ron and I were scheduled to return to work by 2:30, and because Elizabeth was already on her way to East Beach to retrieve, I quickly climbed out at launch, made a turn or two over the TF, and headed south. I cleared the antennae farm with about 3500 and 101 with 1200, arriving 15 minutes or so later in fat, buoyant air, with enough altitude over the volley ball courts to practice an asymmetric spiral or two (I know, Faoro, that's not what they looked like but that's what they were supposed to be). I landed in perfect calm on a perfect SB afternoon. Thanks, Elizabeth (Ron and Mark, too), for your patience. I needed that.

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