Hobbs NM
D. Brent Harsh
The Oz Report
Volume 3, Number 72
Thursday, June 17th, 1999
"Toto, I have a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore."
Our friend dies
We are all in shock.
As I write this late on Wednesday night I'm just a zombie. I've
been crying all afternoon and I keep crying. Michael "Hollywood"
Champlin has died flying.
This morning we were just seven happy hang glider pilots ready for
a day of fun flying at Hobbs, NM on a light wind day that promised
good lift and triangle tasks. All of us were flying together and had
known each other in various ways. It was great to be altogether
here and experiencing what nature provided.
Tonight everything is different. We don't have a purchase on why
we are here.
This morning Michael decided to fly John Borton's Millennium, just
to fool around and learn about this different glider. He had
already flown it a few times in the evening to 2,000' on a previous
day when we didn't fly during the day.
Michael and Tiki have been here in Hobbs ready to set world
records. Michael has been extremely focused on setting the Class
I hang gliding distance record, flying often at Hobbs and in
Wyoming. Tiki set the women's record here last year (since passed
by Tova Heaney). I'm here because Michael convinced me that
Hobbs could be a wonderful place to fly.
Michael launched John's Millennium around noon from the north
east-running runway, and got up quickly. The rest of us (Mike
Barber, Patty Cameron, Ramy Yanetz, and myself) towed up,
worked our way up in well-formed lift to 5,000' AGL and headed
north to Lovington against an 8 mph headwind to do a triangle.
Michael continued to fly the Millennium over the airport for over
an hour. He was on the radio with John Borton, who was providing
casual instruction. Michael decided that he wanted to try to do
some spins.
Michael completed two spins successfully. He then attempted
another spin. To come out of the spin he pushed the stick forward,
which aims the nose of the glider at the ground. He entered a
high-speed dive – a very high speed dive. The Millennium will
recover from a spin if you just let go of the stick as soon as you go
into a spin. You can speed its recovery by pushing the stick
forward. You don't need to push it all the way forward, and it is
not a good idea to go into a dive to recover from a spin.
The glider came out of the dive, presumably because Michael eased
off on the stick. It was now going very fast, most likely beyond
VNE. The glider climbed going straight up and then the wings
folded back. There was no attempt to deploy the parachute in
spite of the high altitude of the glider.
A review of the wreckage by John Borton, showed that the pin
that holds the two wings together at the nose had been bent and
the safety ring on the pin was missing, likely sheared off in flight
after the pin was bent. Once the latch came off the pin, the wings
folded. After the wings folded back, the glider dove nose first
into the ground from 4-5,000'.
If the glider was in a negative load at the moment the wings
folded, the sail, ribs, and back of the leading edges could have
collapsed upon the pilot, either pinning him in the cage, knocking him
out, or hurting him in a more severe manner. We suspect that
Michael was incapacitated and therefore unable to pull the
air-deployed chute handle.
John will complete a full accident report and may have different
facts and conclusions than I've presented here at this early hour.
Our utmost sympathies go to Tiki and John's family. We want our
friend back desperately.
A few notes on the conditions. While the lift was strong and
relatively smooth over the airport (lots of concrete), we found it
broken up and hard to work to the north. While I wouldn't
consider the air to be rough, it was rougher than it had been
recently (which I would characterize as Florida west). Conditions
probably did not play a part or at least not a significant part in the
accident.
The Millennium has been tested to 10 g's without failure. Everyone
who sets up a Millennium mentions the small latch and pin at the
nose. In contrast, the nose pins of the Exxtacy are much beefier,
and they still give me pause. I mean, everything it riding on those
pins.
Michael was a very conservative pilot and a very analytical one as
well. He taught me quite a bit about weather forecasting and we
had numerous discussions about speed to fly, etc. I got to fly with
him a number of times on long flights and really enjoyed the
experience. Many people on the hang gliding mailing list have
enjoyed his contributions.
Michael has many friends in Florida and at the Wallaby Ranch
where he set the Florida state record. His life has been hang
gliding. Hang gliding is the richer for it.
I wish my friends would quit dying. It really scares me.
Proud Supporter of:
1999 US World
Team
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BFOLEY4404 wrote:
>
> What happened at Hobbs? I heard about a fatal HG accident, but no details.
BFOLEY4404
BFOLEY4404
Kristofer D. Dale
: facts and conclusions than I've presented here at this early hour.
please post this information here, I have been following the development
and use of the Mill for awhile now, thanks...
: Our utmost sympathies go to Tiki and John's family. We want our
: friend back desperately.
Having lost my mate this year, you have my heartfelt sympathy, it doesn't
go away, but the good memories help fill the void somewhat. As a longtime
resident of New Mexico, I can attest to the quixotic nature of the wind
and weather here, and the higher altitudes offer less support even for
hang-gliders. I was almost blown off a mountain crest while hiking one day
by a gust "out of the blue", and have been wary ever since that time. I
read a post once describing New Mexico (probably Sandia Crest) as "big
serious scary air", colorful yet accurate; take heed from this additional
incident, and consider experimental flying a high-risk pursuit here!
Dan Chappell
words "dontspam" from this address.
Rolling Through the Owens
Thermals that sound like freight trains? Fly 60 miles without
turning? Tumbles and structural failures? I had heard the stories
about the Owens Valley. In fact I had even flown it once before.
Sometime around 1990 I went up to Gunther with a group of Santa
Barbara pilots. All I remember from that trip is that it took me
about 3 minutes to get from launch to landing. One Santa Barbara
pilot crashed his Sensor on final in a gust front. He was
hospitalized with serious injuries. On the way home his brand new van
was totaled when they hit an elk. His auto insurance was not yet
active. I never went back.
Date: July 3, 1999. Owens Valley winds were forecast to be light from
the Southwest. The sky was inky blue as the tan rock faces of the
Sierra Nevada Mountains bore a blinding reflection of the early
morning sun. The fragrance of dry sage permeated the calm desert air
in Lone Pine.
We drove up from Los Angeles the night before. Sylmar pilot Erwin
McDavid had agreed to work as my driver. Erwin has extensive
experience driving for various world class pilots and his knowledge
proved to be invaluable. We discussed our options for the day over
breakfast. We considered flying Walt's Point but there was
uncertainty as to whether the site would be open. There were numerous
sites in the Inyo and White Mountains that would make for a good
launch site this day. We chose Mazourka in the Inyo Mountains since
there was a lower probability of shredding our tires on the razor
sharp shale that covers most of the roads.
I was mentally planning this as a leisurely "training day". I had
never used a GPS, APRS, or oxygen system before and we fumbled around
trying to get it all set up. I wanted to take my time preparing the
glider, new instruments, and oxygen with no distractions. Mazourka
proved to be the ideal place. We were alone at the top. We had the
glider rigged and ready to launch at about 12:30 PM. The launch is a
very gentle slope. From the top it almost looks flat. The altitude
is about 8,100' msl and it was a hot day. Fortunately there was a
nice 10 mph breeze straight in and fabulous smooth thermal cycles that
would build into the 25 mph range gradually dissipating over time.
Conditions couldn't be better.
Erwin helped me affix the 125 lb prosthetic pair of wings plus 10 lbs
of instruments and oxygen on my back. The radios were working, GPS,
variometer, altimeter and oxygen turned on and we walked toward
launch. The wind began to build and the oppressive weight lifted from
my shoulders. Using my right hand to control the pitch and roll I
balanced the wings and began to run. My feet became light and I
became airborne. Gentle forward pressure on the stick and I was once
again running on the flat slope. Three more steps and I left the earth
for the next three hours.
I rocketed up in a fat and powerful thermal. The thermal drifted me
back into the mountains and high above launch. Within a few minutes I
felt a gentle puff of oxygen shoot up my nose as I climbed through
12,000 ft. Soon I found myself nearing Westguard Pass. There were
two flexwings off in the distance flying low over the pass. I
patiently worked a weak thermal in the middle of the pass hoping to
get enough altitude to make Black Mountain on the other side. It took
some time but my patience was rewarded as I flew behind Black and
began my journey up the White Mountain range.
When I was a kid I wondered what the heck was rattling around inside
of spray paint cans. One day I decided to find out. I bled off all
the gasses and sliced open a can. To my delight I found a shiny glass
marble. On this day I was to find out exactly what its like to be
shaken up like a marble in a can of spray paint.
On my way toward White Mountain I glided for 15 minutes in air that
was so calm and smooth that it was erie. It was the proverbial calm
before the storm. I worked a powerful thermal 500 feet above the
spine that leads to White Mountain Peak. Suddenly all hell broke
loose. I was pitched so violently that I thought I was being thrown
out of the aircraft. I instinctively grabbed a side wire with my left
arm and tried to hang on. As I floated weightlessly in the glider
cage I was slammed from one side to the other, then up and down and
spinning side to side. I tried to control the glider's path but my
control inputs were making matters worse as I was continually tossed
around like a bull rider in the rodeo.
The adrenalin was pumping and my eyes were wide as silver dollars. I
stiffened my legs and pushed my shoulders hard up against the shoulder
straps. The wind roared around me, my left arm was wrapped around the
side wire, my right hand was on the stick and I sank my wingtip into
the furious thermal's heart.
I hear Erwin calling me for a position update.
Erwin; "Hey Dan, where are you at?"
Dan; "I can't really talk right now. I am getting my ass kicked over
White Mountain."
Erwin; "Just get the altitude that you need and get out of there!"
Good advice. A few minutes later I moved on.
The thermals were strong and plentiful and I porpoised along for mile
after mile.
I reached Boundary Peak. End of the line. Decision time. Go North
or go East? I thermalled up and drifted over the back to the East.
Massive sink was my reward. I skimmed along the spines leading
through Montgomery Pass and squeaked through the gap. I drifted in
zero sink for thirty minutes at five hundred feet off of the ground.
I saw the town of Coledale below and with visions of food and cold
drinks landed beside a truck stop. I had lost contact with Erwin, the
town had been abandoned and there was no phone to call our back up
number. Forty minutes later Erwin rolled up. Seems he had problems
finding fuel in the tiny towns that dot this route.
It was a 90 mile dogleg and a new personal best.
Date: July 4, 1999. The forecast was similar to the prior day. We
heard rumors that some local weirdo was up on Walt's Point collecting
site fees. No one knew if he was legitimate or if he was just
pocketing the cash. I decided to go back to Mazourka. After all, it
had worked very well yesterday, it was free, and there were no crowds
to deal with.
Much of the flight was a repeat of the prior day. The winds were
weaker and the going was slower. When I reached Boundary peak I
decided to get max altitude before going over the back this time. I
began drifting over the back of the beautiful snow covered peaks at
nearly 17,000' MSL. I headed for Coledale. Gliding for the next
twenty five miles I got nothing but false thermals, dead air, and
sink. I was heading on the same route as yesterday but this time I
had a little more altitude to play with. At about 800' agl I found a
nice thermal trigger point over a wide red rock formation southwest of
the Coledale ghost town. I got back up and set my sights on Lone
Mountain some 23 miles to the East. Three smooth flatland thermals
later and I was over the Lone Mountain foothills and being rocked
upward by the powerful thermals rolling off of the jagged bare rock
spires. At 13,500 ft MSL my oxygen bottle ran dry, my radio batteries
died, and I drifted past Lone Mountain eastward toward the town of
Tonopah.
From the air Tonopah looked like a magical city from a Tolkien novel.
It sits high upon the top of a mountain ridge and is circled by cone
shaped mountain spires. I drifted across the city in buoyant evening
air. It was 7:00 PM the wind was beginning to blow me to the North
and I hadn't talked to Erwin in 30 minutes. I penetrated back
southeast to the highway and set up my landing. I chose to ignore the
wind direction, for the sake of convenience, landing 10 feet from the
highway in a cross wind.
I was amazed at my ground speed as I had a quartering tail wind when I
came into ground effect. The ground surface was the texture of beach
sand mixed with talcum powder. Unfortunately it was not smooth. I
touched down a little too fast. Approximately 30 mph. When the front
skid touched the surface it deflected a huge blinding spray of sand
and dust into my face and at that instant the upwind wing began to
raise from the effect of the cross wind. I failed to correct in time
and the right wing tip and the skid dug into the ground. The old nose
catch broke and the wing folded up damaging some ribs and the trailing
edge reinforcement.
There was some minor damage to the wing but I didn't receive a
scratch. The crash cage did its job.
I changed my radio batteries and Erwin soon caught up to me.
It was a seven hour, 137 mile dogleg, and another personal best.
The next day Erwin landed a job driving for another pilot and I headed
off to the Bay Area to get my wing tuned up. I drove up 395 and
across Highway 108 through Donner Pass and some breathtakingly
beautiful landscape.
Little did I know that I would soon fly over this majestic area from
Reno, of all places.
Stay tuned for the next chapter.... ROCKING IN RENO!
(c) July 15,1999 Dan Chappell
Lloyd Watson
let others of us just beginning to go cross country what it like...
God bless and good thermals.
Lloyd
RoyG
Very good writing too
" The sky was inky blue as the tan rock faces of the Sierra Nevada
Mountains bore a blinding reflection of the early morning sun. The
fragrance of dry sage permeated the calm desert air in Lone Pine. "
regards
RoyG
Dan Chappell <cha...@dontspamdeltanet.com> wrote in message
news:37904397...@news.concentric.net...
Sean
Bill Jackson
glider this was? Sounds interesting, like a Carbon Dragon maybe or a
Millenium (seems to be foot launched but stick controlled?)
Great story
Bill Jackson
Russia AC-4A, #007
Dan Chappell wrote:
> From: Dan Chappell cha...@dontspamdeltanet.com To reply, remove the
> words "dontspam" from this address.
>
> Rolling Through the Owens
>
SNIP
Marc Whisman
>
> For those of us not on the HG list, maybe you could tell us what sort of a
> glider this was? Sounds interesting, like a Carbon Dragon maybe or a
> Millenium (seems to be foot launched but stick controlled?)
It is indeed a Millenium.
-Marc
Dan Chappell
email remove the words "dontspam" from the address.
Rocking in Reno!
Date: July 9, 1999. I sat at home in the sweltering Southern
California heat staring at my computer screen. The National Weather
Service satellite showed a huge monsoonal plume of moisture flowing
northward from Mexico. Las Vegas was flooded and the desert was
receiving torrential rains. They were forecasting isolated
thunderstorms in the Owens Valley. My plan to return for another
weekend of flying my glider in the "O" was beginning to look somewhat
dubious.
I had fought with violent thermals the week before. Over the White
Mountains, several monster thermals had grabbed me in their jaws and
thrown me around like a rag doll. In that time and place I felt that
I never wanted to return. Hours later as I soared above the flat
Nevada desert in huge smooth thermals I roared in laughter knowing
that I couldn't stay away. I was hopelessly addicted to this
powerfully compelling flying site.
Erwin McDavid's camper sits to the side of the Sylmar,CA hang glider
landing zone. He was finishing up some work on his electronics bench
as I drove into the parking lot. A few minutes later he had
fabricated some cables to hook our radios to the GPS. If all worked
as planned, I would be able to fly with a beacon (APRS) that would
continuously update my position to Erwin's GPS unit.
Erwin had agreed to drive for me again this weekend. We loaded his
bag in the back of my truck and off we went.
After passing through the mountains of Los Angeles County, we could
see ominous thunderstorms building to the north. We stopped at
Palmdale for a bite and by 6:00 PM were once again on our way up
toward the town of Bishop. The air became acrid with the smell of
ozone, smoke, and wet sage as lightning strikes flashed in front of
us. The torrential desert rains and wind began to blow as we pressed
onward.
As we neared the town of Lone Pine the rain became so heavy that I
momentarily lost sight of the highway and became disoriented. After
what seemed like an eternity I regained my bearings and observed a van
overturned on the side of the road. I saw the driver standing in the
rain beside the road as a trucker shined a flashlight into his eyes.
We continued north.
Around midnight we found a motel in Bishop, turned in for the night,
and awoke at 8:00AM the next morning.
Date: July 10, 1999. Bishop, CA. The sky was totally occluded. Not
unexpected. I sat on the edge of the bed, turned on the television,
and tuned to the weather channel. The NWS satellite showed the plume
of moisture flowing up Mexico and the Nevada desert ending somewhere
near Reno. The edge of the storm is where I wanted to be.
Atmospheric instability, but not too much of it, is great for soaring.
Onward to Reno!
We stopped at Minden, Nevada for oxygen and then headed to Slide
Mountain just outside of Reno. Stopping in the landing zone, we
happened to run into Bill, a former Sylmar pilot who had relocated to
Reno with his wife. We chatted for awhile and then drove up to check
out the launch site. It was late in the afternoon and I wasn't
planning on flying but I wanted a mental image of conditions so that I
could prepare for my launch the next day.
The Slide Mountain launch is steep. It is also high, about 8,000 ft
msl. It has mounds of rock, bushes, and rebar sticking out on the
launch slope. Oh yes, and a couple of pine trees on either side in
front. A bit intimidating at first glance and something for me to
ponder overnight.
Date: Sunday July 11, 1999. Reno, NV. Bill had warned us that the
crowd would be big on Sunday. "Get there early and get a spot close
to launch", he said. We did exactly that. I was on launch at 9:00 AM
and almost finished setting up my glider by the time the first pilots
started showing up. The wind was blowing straight in with nice strong
cycles about 10-12 mph. One flex wing got off ahead of me and then a
couple of steps later I was up and away.
Nice cumulus was popping up above launch and I rode the first thermal
up to 5500' above and behind the launch. The wind was from the east
so over the back toward the west I went. I didn't know this area at
all. In fact I had only spent a few minutes looking at the map before
I launched. I was just planning on heading west until I ran out of
possible landing areas. I worked a couple of thermals to cloudbase
while a sailplane followed and leached off of me. I passed the town
of Truckee and continued westward down Interstate 80. When I arrived
at Soda Springs Ski Resort, 30 miles from launch, I was boxed in. The
only landing area that I could see for the next 20 miles was a little
dirt patch in the freeway median strip. Yuck!
I got low and played around for a while in weak lift over the ski
resort. There was a huge meadow nearby. In no wind, at high altitude
on a hot humid day, I was screaming across the ground on final landing
approach. It seemed as though I would never slow down. Fortunately
however, I pulled off a nice landing at the grassy site. That rear
wheel and front skid sure comes in handy. Thank you Steve Morris!
Date: Monday July 12, 1999. Reno, NV. We checked out of the hotel
and began driving up the road to launch. The air was as smoggy as
some of worst days in L.A. In fact I was totally unenthusiastic and
had almost called off the day because it looked so bad. There were
forest fires in the area and the smoke mixed with the high humidity to
turn the air into a thick gray soup. Erwin's encouragement kept me
going. I also remembered something that glider pilot Kevin Frost had
once written, "Sometimes days that look lousy actually turn out to be
very good." He was right. So right.
Once again I was first at the launch site. I was soon set up and
ready to go. The wind was cross from the north and thermal cycles
rolling straight in were few, far between, and weak. Launch
conditions were poor but the high cumulus clouds were beginning to pop
up all around us.
A few locals showed up and a fellow by the name of Doug Cook
introduced himself to me. I was unsure of the route to fly but since
the wind on launch was crossing from the northeast the logical plan
was to head south. Doug concurred and described the route that we
would fly.
The plan was to fly due south to Markleeville, cross Monitor Pass and
head south down 395 toward the Owens Valley. A very ambitious plan.
I liked the plan and I liked the fact that this stranger seemed so
confident and willing to help. In the back of my mind I wondered if
he was just some cocky novice blowing hot air. I didn't know that
Doug holds the site record of over 130 miles from Slide Mountain. I
couldn't have picked a better guide.
While I was hooking into my glider Doug was standing on launch waiting
for a puff of air to come up the mountain. It was mostly cross from
the North. I saw him disappear as he ran over the edge.
Erwin helped me lift the glider as I stepped over the highway
guardrail at the edge of launch. The wind was 90 degrees crossing
from the North. I was at 8000 feet above median sea level and it was
very hot. These were terrible conditions for a foot launch. I knew
that this would be dangerous and very risky if I tried it. Thoughts
raced through my mind as I stood looking down the steep rocky incline
with 135 lbs of carbon fiber, steel, instruments and oxygen pressing
down on my shoulders. I remembered a launch that I had blown in 1991.
I thought about the sickening sound of the glider breaking up as I
slid face first down that hot rocky slope years ago in Palm Springs.
I thought about the fact that at least 4 pilots had crashed while
launching a Millennium hang glider. One of them was Brian Porter, a
much more experienced pilot than I, and he had blown it right here at
Slide. I gasped for breath in the rarified air as I struggled with
the weight on my shoulders and the gusty crosswind.
Staring at the wind streamer blowing sideways across the mountainside
below me, suddenly it turned and pointed directly at me. It was my
time to go. I aimed the glider's nose down toward the bottom of the
mountain and began to run for my life. I ran and ran and the glider
began to move down the mountain faster than I could keep up. It was
getting ahead of me and I was losing it. I knew this feeling well.
Thoughts of Palm Springs flashed by and my mind screamed, "I can win
this battle! I WILL win this battle and this is how its done!". With
every ounce of strength that I could muster I took two more huge
strides and pulled back gently on the control stick.
The glider seemed to sag like an overloaded horse as I burdened it
with my 200 lb body. The elevons bit into the air and the wings
pulled me from the earth. HAH! Just another day at the office.
Now it was time to play chess (one of my favorite games BTW). That's
what XC flying is all about. Its a big chess board in four
dimensions.
I knew the wind was coming from the north so I headed out to the left
and aimed for the trigger point far out in front of launch. Halfway
there I ran into some lift. I quickly scouted around looking for a
core and soon I was blasting upward. This was no Owens Valley monster
thermal. It was fat and powerful but also very smooth.
I had forgotten about Doug Cook and as I headed away from the earth at
over 1000 feet per minute, Doug raced in from above to join me. He
was about a thousand feet over me and began panting and laughing
hysterically as he passed through 17,998' msl with no oxygen. He kept
repeating, "Oh man, this is friggin unbelievable! I not even near
cloudbase yet!" Add lots of whooping and hollering and laughter and,
well, you get the picture.
Doug put his old Wills Wing HP AT flex wing into high speed glide
mode. He ended up miles away, low in the foothills south of Carson.
From my vantage point he looked like a little speck down near the
ground. Then I lost sight of him. I was staying high and jumping
from cloud to cloud along the east shore of Lake Tahoe. I flew
directly over the town of South Lake Tahoe and then over Heavenly Ski
Resort.
I heard Doug on the radio saying, "I'm working it, I'm working it
man!" He had found a great thermal in the foothills and was getting
back up. I continued down range near Highway 88 passing the towns of
Minden, Centerville, and Woodfords. Doug had gotten high again and
was pointing out the landmarks to me as we cruised toward
Markleeville. At Markleeville we were boxed in. We would need to get
stinking high so that we could make the glide out over Monitor Pass
(8314' msl). At Markleeville we were not in visual contact. Doug was
working the foothills to the east of the valley and I was hanging back
on the hills to the west of town. I was having a hard time gaining
altitude and spent a half hour scratching around in zero sink until I
found something workable. Fifteen minutes later and I was directly
over Markleeville at 17,500' and scraping the bottom of cloudbase.
The sky to the southwest was dark gray and I could see decaying
cumulus 5000 feet below me. 18 miles to the East, we both could see a
spectacular dust devil 12,000 feet tall rising to feed a cumulus
cloud. I slid down in the seat, pointed my feet out in front of me
and screamed to the southeast.
Twenty miles later and I never even saw Monitor Pass until I had
passed it. I was just aiming for the south end of Topaz Lake. I was
now at 3000' agl and scratching on a ridge in a hidden valley just
west of Highway 395 and the town of Topaz. Doug was far to the north
of me but had much more altitude. He glided in below me to join the
thermal. After all this time we were finally once again in the same
thermal. The sky above was quickly clouding over and it seemed that
the day would soon reach an end. Doug raced forward hoping for one
last thermal. I held back and began to milk this one for everything
that she was worth. Doug got lower and lower as he glided over the
foothills above the town of Walker. He was hoping for a miracle
thermal to get back up. As I watched him glide down the shade covered
hillsides I knew that it was over for him. He vectored Erwin to a
field, got wind directions and landed.
The sky was solidly clouded for miles in every direction now. No sun
was reaching the earth. I rode the dying thermal to over 16,000 feet
and began my final forty five minute, twenty mile glide to the south.
As I glided through the silky smooth evening air I cruised by Sonora
Pass and viewed the majestic mountains that I had driven through only
last week. I slowed the glider to minimum sink speed, laid back in
the hammock and soaked up the beautiful view of lakes, mountains,
meadows and streams unfolding below me. I cruised over the highway
and reached a beautiful high meadow about 5 miles north of Bridgeport.
A couple of circles and I brought the Millennium down in the calm
evening air as a few drops of rain fell from the sky. Ten minutes
later the fellows were there and smiles, congratulations, and
handshakes were shared all around.
The next day I tried the route again but got grounded by rain in
Markleeville. Erwin and I headed home. I feel the satisfaction of
creating one of the most beautiful flights that I may ever experience.
This is why I fly.
Dan Chappell
Dan Chappell
<bjac...@NOSPAM.analogy.com> wrote:
>For those of us not on the HG list, maybe you could tell us what sort of a
>glider this was? Sounds interesting, like a Carbon Dragon maybe or a
>Millenium (seems to be foot launched but stick controlled?)
>
>Great story
>
>Bill Jackson
>Russia AC-4A, #007
Thanks Bill, glad you liked the story. This glider is called a
Millennium. It has a stick and rudder pedals. It can be flown with
the stick alone however because the tip rudders are mixed with the
elevons. For more information on these new hybrid type wings take a
look a Stewart Midwinter's website.
http://www.globalserve.net/~midtoad/RigidWings/index.html
WEFLY UNIV
adventures. I am very glad to hear of your success.
Stay safe,
Ken de Russy
Anacortes, WA, USA
Dan Chappell
And thanks to you for teaching me to fly else there would be no story
to tell! :-)
Dan Chappell
WEFLY UNIV
>to tell! :-)
>
>Dan Chappell
>
>
Thank you Dan but it has been clear to me for some time (I may not have had
this clarity when I taught you) that as an instructor I serve much like a
guardrail on a highway. I can sometimes prevent you from going in to the ditch
and generally help keep you going in the right direction.
Every student who is successful deserves full credit as the sole author of
their own achievements. Learning is an internal experience. Ultimately we are
ALL "self-taught".
Thanks for allowing me to watch!
XcNick
How about "facilitate" instead of watch