There's a demon been running 'round launch, and it's taken down three pilots, of which I was the third. I lived to tell about it, so I'm writing this down in hopes that a word might get through to one of you boneheads (like me) and save you from avoidable pain and anguish...or worse.
First there was BJ. Bad launch at the 750 up at Crestline. Downed glider, broken tubes, but BJ got off relatively unscathed. Broken little toe, injured knee, scrapes, etc. He blacked out for about 20 minutes or so, probably from shock. He can say better than I. Thank God, he lived to fly another day.
Next came Bill Brick at Marshall. Good launch, but seconds after launch, reached down to fix a piece of gear, got turned by a strong thermal, and was unceremoniously re-introduced to Mr. Mountain. Not a pretty scene. Bill got the wind knocked out of him, his glider got pancaked, and he got some nice bruises and cuts from hitting his wires and smacking the hill. Considering he literally stalled into the side of the hill, it's amazing he got through it with just what he did.
Finally came Yours Truly last Sunday afternoon. Up at Kagel on a day when most pilots decided to pass the time at home with their families rather than risk the gusty conditions. Winds were gusty and switchy. Someone reported 10-15 kts, with gusts past 20 kts. I never used a wind-o-meter to measure. Mistake #1.
After several successful launches (Fred Ballard, Hiro and others) it was time for the rest of us. I was number two. Mike Ivey was #1. He walked it up to launch, tested the conditions for some time, and to his credit, backed down. Smart move, Mikey.
Since I was now hooked in, I decided it could not hurt to walk it up and "test the conditions" on launch. I convinced Ken Andrews to assist under that pretense, and with the help of Nancy on my nose and Ken Andrews on my right wing, I began to ground handle the glider.
The wind was coming in cycles. I called out to Ken how smooth the lulls were, and Ken called back "yeah, but when the wind comes up, IT REALLY COMES UP." He was telling me it was risky, both with words, body language and facial expression. But I wasn't wanting to hear it. Mistake #2.
So there I was at launch, ground handling the glider in gusty, questionable conditions. And then another lull came. My eyes got wide, and I got greedy. I called Nancy to clear. Mistake #3.
As soon as Nancy was behind me, but before I could make my run, a monster gust hit me from the left, lifting my wing to about 40 degrees AOB. The gust continued. I struggled to fight it, but had NO CHANCE. I called for help, but it was too late. I got sucked off the mountain and became airborne under an angry, turning glider with a 45 degree angle of bank. I heard the screams from folks behind me. The last I remember was seeing the ground rushing up to meet me. I put my head down, let go, and tucked. Next thing I know I'm standing up, shouting "I'm OK, I'm OK" to the folks on the hill, hoping to calm the panic.
The short of it is that I walked away with barely a scratch. The glider was not as fortunate. Bent leading edge, broken (and I mean broken) down tubes, contorted control bar, bent ribs and more. Andy Beem is piecing it together for me. Thanks, Andy.
There's a Demon on launch because it lives inside of each one of us. In all three of these launch mishaps, there was a common theme. A lack of focus, a lapse of attention, a lapse of good judgment, a bit of cockiness that caused us to drop our gaurd, if only for a second. And that second is all the Demon needs.
Pay heed, my fellow pilots. The Demon lives at launch, landing, and all points in between. And its birth begins with the thought "that could never happen to me because...." Make no mistake, when it comes to the Demon, your are at war. And should you falter, you will be forced to pay whatever toll the Demon demands.
... Such an amazing sport, but the inherent dangers are very real and should not be ignored at any point from prepping our equipment through a strong controlled landing!
