Wednesday, I was a zero. It was a welcomed dry spot in a very soggy season. It was the first day in many where the Blipmap showed a negative number for the overdevelopment potential. Cummies started forming by 8:30, the wind was light northwest going south, it was cool in the morning, and it was the longest day of the year; it just had to be good. I originally planned to tow at Morningside, but the gang talked me into launching from the northwest launch at Ascutney.
Everyone (Greg, Jim, Pete, Tim, and me) met at the base of Ascutney, loaded into two trucks, and headed up. The wind on launch was light, but blowing in every direction, including down. The clouds were already drifting from the southwest which is 90 degrees cross to launch, but it was light enough we could fall off the rock cliff launch. We were all surprised when the sky started filling with thick cirrus. By the time I stepped onto launch at 1pm, all the cummies were gone except for an old looking one above us. I waited for a decent launch window and then sprinted into the calm air. I immediately dove around to the previously sunny southwest bowl looking for my ticket out. However, all I found was bubbly air and then crushing sink. Crap. I had to make a hasty retreat back around to the northwest side so I could land in the LZ. On the way back I found a small climb over the rock cliffs at the base of the mountain and started climbing and drifting north. It was slow, but steady, so I began to think I might get back up. I noticed Pete launching while I was climbing. However the climb faded and I was soon getting ready to land. I didn’t see any movement in the trees around the LZ, so I landed to the south preparing for a no wind landing in tall grass. However, I ended up with a 10 mph tailwind into tall grass. I flared, fell through the grass, and planted my feet in 3 inches of muck that held on so tightly I couldn’t take another step. I fell forward onto my knees into the muck. Oh joy, a great ending to a great flight … NOT. At least the black flies were there to keep me company.
Pete continued to climb as Jim and Greg launched. Jim was soon circling the losers’ pit, but at least got a good wind indication from me and had a nice landing. Greg was fighting a good fight but descending while Pete continued to climb. Soon Greg was swatting bugs with us in the LZ. A short time later Tim launched, struggled momentarily, but then started climbing. Pete eventually said he was heading cross upwind to Morningside and Tim was heading downwind to the northeast over the forest.I had to apologize to our driver Allen, who brought along his GPS so he could build a track log of his retrieval adventures. No adventure today. Since Tim was heading towards Greg’s home, Greg sent Allen home in his truck while he took off after Tim in Tim’s truck. I didn’t have enough flying yet, so I drove over to Morningside for a tow. Pete, who landed shortly before I got there, said there was some lift around, but it was smooth overhead. John Z was being towed up as we spoke so I waited to see how he did. He pinned off in what he thought was good lift, lost it, got stepped on, and then couldn’t get back to the airfield. Ouch. We watched him turn around to land just far enough away he had to break down. Toni was next and essentially had a slow-descent sled.
Um, maybe I should leave the glider in the bag; … or maybe not. The cirrus was moving off and cummies were forming. What the heck! I rigged the glider, suited up, hooked in, and followed Rhett to some fresh cummies around 4:30. The climbs were weak, but enough to stay airborne. It was nice flying around the area in the light wind. I hung out on the Vermont side of the river for awhile and then crossed over to the New Hampshire side for a change of pace. I eventually made my way back to Morningside for a landing in the nicely mowed LZ. I found out from Greg that Tim had flown 52 miles over some very challenging terrain. He was definitely the hero today.
After packing up, Lee and I checked out the new pizzeria/bar in town. I’m sure it will become a new favorite. I started heading south on Route 12 which runs along the Connecticut River. There wasn’t a breath of air moving. The river was a perfect mirror image of the blue sky and green trees above it. There wasn’t another car in sight. I was flying along the glassy smooth pavement, windows open, wind swirling across by face, singing along with U2’s “Beautiful Day” that was escaping the truck’s speakers on the longest day of the year at sunset. Ah. Life’s good … even for a zero.
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