May 8, 2007.
Sources were unison about high altitudes and convergence potential.
I launched first and soon was shivering from cold near 9K. Phil, Ron, Seabas and Chipy had ganged up and had a chase standing by. When it was time to move on at 11K+, they drifted back with thermals and were getting even more altitude and shifting towards Gleason.
My plan was to go to Wilson, and conditions permitting, go to Crestline.
I arrived at Big T at 8K and flew into the convergence line behind Big T and before Lukens. Climbed to 10,5K and pointed towards Wilson, bypassing Lukens. Flew in the line all the way past Brown and actually gained a 1000 traveling 4-5 miles.
At this time the gang was at Gleason, getting 13K+. I was preying to gods of batteries to draw all the power from Ron's radio, so he would finally shut up. (We have this fight with Ronny all the time; how can you do anything, when he is screaming into your ear constantly, I mean non stop?).
Then all the hell broke loose on the radio. I hear them screaming in distress, from what I could barely understand, Phil tumbled, threw his chute and "landed" on the top of Gleason. He was OK, and Paul was on his way to get him.
Stay tuned, and more on this will follow from first hand.
Back to Wilson. There was nothing but sink in the vicinity. I was watching the smoke from a big fire in Hollywood Hills rising to my altitude and stopping right there, with a flat top, dissipating in different directions. From the NE side of a smoke column the smoke was getting socked into the Eaton Canyon and towards Highway 2. It was a good visual presentation on air movement, venturi and to my disappointment, presence of a widespread sink on my intended flight pat.
After testing the atmosphere near Wilson, getting up and down, I flew East, from near 10K.
Soon it was apparent it was a gamble. Getting lower and lower in the kind of air I understood what exactly it was doing, I could fly as far as possible, land out and wait for X hours to be found.
Or, I could turn around from what looked like N Monrovia and come Home, Kagel that is.
One last time I looked towards mighty Cucamonga/Mt. San Antonio, towering in front of me, thinking I had to come back one day and take that challenge yet. Not now.
My return was uneventful. While I was gliding from Lowey/Brown towards Lukens Ron, Seabas and Chipy turned from Gleason towards Wilson and decided to join me. They came to Wilson much higher than I was and were surprised to see me going back. They also turned around and eventually passed by me screaming, leaving me in their dust, cursing and kicking my undermesozoyan glider. Your days are numbered, guys, my supership is coming in couple of weeks...
Oh, yeah, the gang had another casualty. They lost Chipy at Wilson. He landed in MY LZ, and got picked up by MY vehicle. I own Chipy now.
The mean time I got so low near Little T, I had to turn around, go back to Big T, and get some 5K+ to make it Home in a strong west headwind.
Near Kagel I looked at my Flytec; I had been flying for more than 3 hours.
Ron and Seabas were on the ground. So, what the heck, I could go to West Towers for Grand Finale.
Turned out to be a bitter and jagged pill, though, but I had to swallow it.
Finally, after one failed attempt I made it to West Towers. On the way back took a different pat and got rewarded with a nice one to 7K.
Came back, did some mindless wangs and boings over Volcano to burn off the altitude and landed finally, after 4 hours and 10 minutes.
It wasn't over, though, because Paul arrived shortly with Phil and remains of his glider. LZ became a CSI site, where after hot debates and analysis we decided to move further discussions to the Thai Place and celebrate Phil's second Birthday.
What a day!
Vrezh.
