Dreams of Flight
Dan Chappell
I met up with John Borton at Kagel Mountain again on Sunday morning.
He asked me, "Were you flying in circles in your dreams last night ?"
"How did you know, John? It was SO intense!"
"It always happens Dan."
When I was about ten years old I read a book on lucid dreaming. It
described a technique whereby, with practice, you could control your
dreams. I tried it. After some months of practice, I knew when I was
asleep and I took control of my dreams. I was free to do what ever I
wanted and I created whatever dream I fancied. Of course there were
plenty of fun scenarios that my naughty little pre-teen mind
experimented with but my main passion was flying. It was damn hard to
fly though. The earth would not turn me loose. I would run really
fast and jump as hard as possible and find myself still standing in
the same spot. After a few months of practice I reached the point
where I was doing extended long jumps. Jumping a foot off the ground
and gliding for 20 feet then 50 feet then 100 feet. Eventually I
realized that I didn't have to come down if I just concentrated hard
enough. Soon I was floating. Then I was hovering over trees, then
houses, flying at night in the moonlight with my arms outstretched
soaring in the stars over houses, mountains and valleys. Zooming in
to land and zipping away again into the night sky...
Blew out both knees playing tennis a few years ago although thousands
of hours of basketball may really be the culprit. Cracked my sternum
in a motocross crash. The back is shot from heavy construction work.
These days when I go to sleep all I want to do is get a good night's
rest so that maybe, just maybe this forty year old battered body will
give me a few more good years.
About a month ago I took delivery of a new Millennium hang glider. I
headed up to the San Francisco area to do some training with J.B. We
set up in a deserted airstrip just south of the town of Tracy. We may
as well have been in the middle of Iowa. There's nothing but flat
farmland for miles in every direction. Although it was only 7:00 AM,
the wind looked like it might be a problem. On the way to the
airstrip I had passed through some 20 mph gusts.
The windsock was limp at the airport. The cool air seemed damp and
stagnant with the smell of fertilizer and freshly plowed earth. We
quickly set up the glider and tagged a thousand foot tow rope to the
bumper of J.B's red pickup truck. This was to be the glider's maiden
flight and J.B. was at the controls.
"Put it in second gear, stomp on the gas and don't let up till it
reaches 35 mph.", were his instructions. So that's exactly what I
did. I wonder if that's bad for the transmission....Hmmm..
He didn't seem to be getting very high and I was quickly reaching the
end of the 3000' runway. When he landed he said that it was some of
the nastiest air he had ever encountered there. Apparently there was
a strong gusty wind at 150 feet up while it was perfectly calm on the
deck.
Next it was my turn. The tow rope was cut to 300 feet. My task was
to fly a few feet up, level off, release and land. J.B. wanted to see
if I had "spastic wrist syndrome" or a panic attack before giving me
more leash. I laid back in the glider cage with my left hand on the
release and my right hand on the stick. Reclining inches off the
asphalt, staring at the back of the pick up truck 300 feet away, I
gave him the GO, GO, GO! The initial acceleration was a rush. I am
pressed back in the seat and all I hear is the rattle of my helmet on
the aluminum headrest and the knobby tire bouncing and spinning on the
pavement six inches behind my head. The wind is quickly blowing in my
face. Airspeed indicator reading 30 mph now. Stick back. Not hard!
Very light touch. No vibration now. All is smooth and peaceful. I
am flying! Whoops, I was only supposed to go a few feet up. Must be
at least 30 feet by now. Level off. Release. Feels like I am
floating. Nose slightly down. Maintain airspeed. Level off.
Touchdown! Roll out. Foot on front wheel to brake. Shower of new
tire nipples and bits of tennis shoe sole blast my face. Stopped.
Yeee Haaa! This is fun!
J.B. rolls me back to the end of the runway and we sit and talk about
the tow and plan my next task. A tractor rumbles by in the distance.
A baler cuts hay behind me and the wind begins to blow.
Now the wind is about 45 degrees cross and 10 to 15 mph gusting from
my left. J.B. doesn't like the conditions but I give the go ahead.
As we begin the next task I lie back in the cage with a smile on my
face waiting for that accelerating rush. GO, GO, GO! The glider yaws
hard to the left. WTF! I wasn't expecting that. I give it hard
right stick. OOPS! Can't do that while still on the ground. The
right wing tip digs hard into the pavement with a sickening grinding
noise. Left stick. Wings level and aligned with runway. Still
accelerating quickly. The glider yaws hard to the left. WTF! I
should have expected that. I give it hard right stick. OOPS! Can't
do that while still on the ground. Is this ground hog day? Once
again the right wing tip digs hard into the pavement with a sickening
grinding noise. Its all happening too fast and I don't like where its
heading. Pull the release! I'm still on the ground spinning around
180 degrees in the middle of the runway with the right wing tip
grinding in. I quickly stop with my back to the wind.
During that short tow I hadn't comprehended the fact that the glider
would immediately yaw directly into the wind. On future tows I simply
kept the wings level and let the glider wander across the runway
wherever it wanted to go. This solved my ground handling problem.
I made a trip up to the Bright Star factory and Brian Robins dropped
what he was working on and took a look at my wing tip. The bottom of
"D" cell was ground completely through and there was some minor sail
damage. No structural damage, it was purely cosmetic. A little
carbon fiber, epoxy resin, a needle and thread, a few hours later and
I was good to go. The repairs were on the house. Now that's service!
BTW That's when I got a chance to see the new Millennium CB prototype.
It looks pretty sweet.
J.B. went to the Nationals competition and I was left with nothing to
do except dream about flying and read the Digest for the next two
weeks. Well I suppose I could have dusted off my old flex wing. Nah.
Someone on the Digest suggested that a little stick time in a sail
plane might be a good idea. I agreed. I left my home in the Los
Angeles basin headed North through the mountains and into the high
desert. I dropped in unannounced at Caracole soaring in California
City http://members.aol.com/soarca/caracole.htm. Cindy and her
husband are the owner operators of this fine sail plane training
facility and are also long time hang glider pilots. Cindy even worked
in the USHGA office at one time. I told her that I wanted some stall
and spin training and, if conditions were good, I'd like to do some
thermalling. A little ground school and off we went.
I couldn't quite fit my 6'-4" frame into the cockpit so I took my
shoes off and I could just manage to squeeze in. I had to fly
barefoot. Cool. Actually cold, really cold when we got to cloudbase.
On tow she controlled the stick and I controlled the rudder pedals.
That poor tug pilot must have been turning green by the time we
released cuz I was dragging his tail all over the place. We pinned
off in a nice thermal at 5000 ft agl.
I practiced thermalling up to cloudbase then spinning and spiral
diving back down. The continual 5 G pullouts were intense. I could
feel my face sag as my body weight went from 200 to 1000 pounds in a
few seconds. After three hours my brain was turning to Jello and my
feet were getting numb. It was time to land and Cindy let me take it
in. What an awesome flying day and an unforgettable experience.
J.B. Got back from the Nationals and I was raring to go fly.
Conditions at the airstrip in Tracy looked favorable. I drove up and
had an excellent day of towing. I did about a dozen 800' tows off of
the bumper of J.B.'s pickup truck. It was totally uneventful and a
great learning experience. We planned to fly Funston but the next
couple of days were blown out. We finally ended up at Marina Beach on
a Saturday and I had a chance to practice some foot launches and
landings in the sand. J.B. had me take a few steps and then I would
hover a few feet off the ground while he held my rear cage by a leash.
Finally I was ready to give it a go at soaring. Unfortunately, it was
not to be. My launch went smoothly but I was too far away from the
dune. I was landing slightly down wind and the beach was sloped 90
degrees perpendicular to my landing. My left wing tip dug into the
sand and I was surprised by a very loud pop at that instant. My nose
catch had broken and the trailing edge consequently collapsed. The
wing began to fold up while my feet were still a few inches off of the
sand. Interestingly, the exact same damage occurred to J.B.'s
Millennium just an hour prior. Another pilot pounded it in a bit
harder though.
J.B. had a guest who had flown in from Colorado for the weekend. He
was scheduled to test fly a Millennium the next day. A three hour
drive back to the shop to fix both gliders and things just went
downhill from there.
It was night by the time the three of us arrived at Bright Star.
Brian Robbins dropped what he was doing at home and opened up the
shop. He spent the next few hours making new parts for the gliders
and patching things up. When he was finished, both gliders were
better than new. We headed South for the two and a half hour drive to
J.B.'s house at around 10PM.
15 minutes later I looked out the rear window and noticed a huge smoke
cloud behind us. I asked J.B. if his transmission was slipping. He
said, "No". 5 seconds later we didn't have a transmission. So here
we are, powerless, rolling down the freeway with no transmission, 2
1/2 hours drive from home, smoke billowing out the rear, twenty some
odd thousand dollars worth of gliders on the roof, and police lights
are flashing in the rear view mirror.....
The California Highway patrol got on the bullhorn and told J.B. to
close his door. "Next time stay inside the truck if you don't want to
get shot.", they said. Fortunately these two cops weren't trigger
happy. They asked us if we were hang gliders. J.B. and the passenger
in front seat said that yes we are hang gliders. I just rolled my
eyes. The CHP guys said they'd get us a tow truck. J.B. called home
to ask Jamie for some help. Jamie's new truck didn't have a rack yet
but at least we had a ride. She started the 2 1/2 hr drive North to
pick us up. I wryly commented that she would probably get there
before the tow truck.
The tow truck stood us up. After two hours sitting on the side of the
road J.B. started walking to the next exit. His cell phone batteries
had died, we didn't know exactly where we were and we needed help.
A while later the CHP rolls up next to us and I tell them what's been
going on. They take off looking for J.B. and call for another truck.
Ten minutes later the CHP arrives with J.B. Jamie pulls up behind
them and thirty seconds later we finally see the tow truck.
We tow the truck back to Bright Star, stash the gliders in the shop,
and head home for some much needed sleep.
A few hours later J.B. is out of bed and heading out in my truck to
retrieve the gliders and take Don for a flight. I decide to sleep in.
Six hours later they arrive at the airstrip but conditions are bad.
The wind is honking. They kick back until late afternoon when the
wind quiets down. J.B. is using a Lookout Mountain threaded bridle
release system. Prior to launch the system is repeatedly preflighted
and tested. At the top of tow, with a slack tow rope, the pilot
experiences a primary release failure. He pulls the secondary. It
releases. The bridle fails to unthread from the tow ring and the
pilot, unaware that he is still attached, flies away trailing 1000
feet of rope.
Fortunately Don is a very experienced HG tow and sail plane pilot and
was able to keep the craft under control. He never realized why the
glider flew so poorly until he landed. Unfortunately he can't make it
back to the airstrip and lands on the two foot high furrows in an
adjacent field. The pilot is uninjured but the front of the crash
cage takes the furrows impact and is destroyed. J.B. swears he'll
never again use this tow release system on a Millennium. Monday
morning I head back home.
In the late 80's I trained to fly flex wings in Santa Barbara and
learned how to thermal at Pine Mountain in Ventura County. I lived
near Los Angeles at the time and split most of my flying time between
Santa Barbara, Pine, Elsinore, Crestline and Kagel. I've never really
had what some call a "home site", although Kagel has always seemed to
be my most convenient flying site, and a great group of pilots hang
out there.
Kagel is the place that I decided to attempt my first high altitude,
soaring, Millennium flight. J.B. was coming to Los Angeles to pick up
some gliders. We decided to meet at Kagel.
Saturday morning J.B. showed up with "Bunny Boy" Jack. Jack had an
early morning flight task and pulled it off flawlessly. It was about
1:30 PM when the three of us, accompanied by long time local pilot
Danny Black, made it back up to launch. Danny is quite experienced
and has logged about 700 flights from Kagel. On the way up to launch
we discuss how dangerous mountain biking is. Sadly, later that day a
local pilot hits a speed bump while riding his mountain bike. He
landed on his unprotected head and may not survive.
With J.B.'s help I have my glider set up and ready to go in about five
minutes. The only problem is that I am missing my rear wheel bearing
due to a hard landing the prior week. I had a new wheel assembly
sitting in my truck in the landing zone so back down the road I go.
Pilots were reporting a strong inversion and severe turbulence at a
horizontal shear line about a thousand feet above the mountain. Jack
launched and flew around in the blender for a while. Danny Black
launched next, popped the nose, rocketed up then slammed back down
into the launch ramp and slid off the end taking out a down tube.
J.B. launched last and flew the Millennium out to the landing zone to
meet me, getting rocked all the way down to a beautiful foot landing.
It was Jack's first real thermal experience and it was baptism by
fire. He took a real beating and landed in a thermally gusting LZ at
around 2:30PM. He pulled off a very nice landing in extreme
turbulence.
After lunch, J.B., Jack and I made it back to launch at around 4:00PM.
Jack was exhausted from his two prior flights and especially the
whipping that he took on his second flight. J.B. got to fly Jack's
Stealth. I set up my glider and headed out to launch for my first
real high altitude flight in this machine.
It was 4:30PM. The wind had died down to about five mph and the
stronger cycles were consistent but not overpowering. Joe Greblo was
flying tandem back and forth in front of launch. After a couple of
minutes he was out of the way, a nice cycle began, my wing was
balanced, and I yelled, "CLEAR!". J.B. ducked under the nose, I took
two steps and was airborne.
A few hundred feet away from the hill I leveled out, released the
control stick, placed both hands on the cage and swung my feet up.
For the first forty five minutes I practiced thermalling with a few
remaining pilots. After that, for the next forty five minutes I had
the mountains to myself and flew effortlessly up and down the range in
the magic evening air.
The sun was getting low on the horizon and it was time to land. I
flew out toward the LZ and with tons of altitude to spare decided to
feel a stall break and spin. I bled off my speed to about 14 mph with
a wing low. The wing began to argue with me. It was bucking and
sounded like someone was slapping it with a wet towel. A 1/4 spin
ensued, forward stick and I was flying again.
I chose the traditional H3 river wash landing that I had used so many
times before in my Sport. Left hand aircraft approach, boards on,
line up the front skid like a gun sight pointed fifty feet in front of
the bullseye, down in ground effect, level off, tail wheel touching
down, bleed off speed, the nose skid plops down in a hail of sand and
debris and I am stopped dead on the bullseye. I can't help but yell a
big, "YEE HAH!!" at the top of my lungs. J.B. comes over and I give
him a high five.
I head home and go to bed tired but happy. My face is burning from
the sun and wind. My head is spinning from pirouetting up the thermal
cores. I close my eyes and the intense and uncontrollable dreams
begin.
Dan Chappell
Whittier, CA.
Airtime in 1999:
4 Hrs Millennium
3 Hrs AS-K21
To respond, remove the X's from my email address.
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Sean
It was a good read.
Sean
--
se...@direct.ca