If at First You Don’t Succeed, Fly, Fly Again

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. Most people want to go for Gold, but I was bent on getting Silver (badge) when I woke up that morning on July 30th. I had already done my time, if you know what I mean, and had climbed to the necessary heights, so now I had go the distance. Feeling very optimistic, I overlooked some of the necessary arrangements for retrieval. But with CU’s going to 6,000 ft everywhere and a gentle northwest wind, the day looked very compelling. Now was the time. My wife Ann prepared for me a high energy breakfast, not the usual whiskey and donuts, and I was off to the Club to meet the task. My preparation precluded any possibility of not completing my goal. This was clearly the case since I didn’t prepare the trailer or have a vehicle with the proper tow hitch ready.

Upon arrival at the Club it became apparent that this undertaking took on a life of its own. Once a few key people realized that I was going to attempt to go to Hyde Park and return in the 1-26, there was no looking back. Dave Ellis gave me an invaluable five minute intensive course on the proper use of the GPS, for which I am most grateful. Tony Lauck arrived at the airport and gave me a topnotch preflight briefing. So I jumped into the 1-26 and towed up to 1200 feet and let go. The thermals were very strong, and this whole operation was going to be easy sailing.

I worked my way towards Moretown and climbed to 4500 feet, keeping Phillips in my peripheral vision. I then decided to jump over the Interstate with my second landing option always accessible in Waterbury. Once I arrived at the southern end of the Hungries, the CU’s became virtual vacuums as I soared up to cloud base at 6000 feet. I kept looking at the GPS and saw my distance to Hyde Park diminish each time I locked on to a new thermal. Fried’s field was now in sight and I felt very comfortable to go on to Morrisville, which was within easy gliding distance of Hyde Park, barely 4 or 5 miles further. How could I lose? Let me count the ways...

It seemed that my self congratulations were somewhat premature. The problem was a real estate problem. Hyde Park simply didn’t have good thermal location. You see, I was dropping off rapidly between Morrisville and Hyde Park and, of course, the situation could only get worse on the way back to Morrisville. To make matters worse, I had started this mission after 1pm—at least two hours later than necessary. Anyhow, once around the turnpoint I quickly became aware of the larger than life possibility that I would be on the ground in Morrisville if I didn’t find a ticket back up to a reasonable altitude.

After thermalling in zero lift for fifteen minutes over Morrisville I decided to call it a day and landed. I contacted Sugarbush and told them that I would tow out to the Hungries and make my way back. Of course this isn’t exactly how events resolved.

All I could do at the Hungries was ridge soar back and forth for half an hour. At 3200 feet MSL at the south end of the Hungries, I decided not to cross the Interstate but to land in Fried’s field. This wasn’t going to be the end of the world, because once committed to this action I actually looked forward to the landing itself. So I set up a glide path and used my dive brakes to get me just over the trees, and then down as quickly as possible to the grass. I really enjoyed this aspect of the flight. It’s nice to know that you can safely go into an off-field situation. The fact that I had walked all of the key fields between Sugarbush and Morrisville at least twice in the last month was to my tremendous advantage.

Once down at Fried’s I made my way to the nearest house. Not knowing what to expect, I knocked on the door, and was warmly greeted by a nice lady who asked me in and provided me with a telephone. Tony Lauck informed me that they had the 1-26 trailer but could not locate a vehicle with an appropriate fitting trailer hitch, but nevertheless reassured me that somehow they would get to me but that it might be “a little bit of a wait.”

Almost three hours later Tony and Dave Baker pulled onto the field with a borrowed truck. Two hours after that and with considerable struggle behind us, we managed to get the 1-26 apart and loaded just in time for nightfall. I had not eaten anything since breakfast, and it suddenly occurred to me that my real error in judgment that day was that I hadn’t landed at Waterbury. You see, if I had landed there, I would have been able to go to a restaurant and have a decent meal within easy walking distance of my glider while waiting for my rescue team.

People in the gliding community commonly advise glider pilots when landing out to choose a field near a suitable road, for simple retrieval. By contrast, my experience suggests to me that they should also consider landing out near a suitable restaurant. Where is the DinerSoar when you really need it?

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