27, 28 May 2007

Looking out toward Francisco Grande from 12K over table top mountain.

Table top off the tip.

The Vekol valley. I've never gone down this way into the reservation but it is probably the most consistent cloud and dust devil producer within hundreds of miles.

Table top.

Typical.

The local hill was closed by the park service yesteray so I ended up giving a ride in the Grob instead. Lift was 8-900 average to 13,600 and we did an 80 mile triangle at tourist pace (40mph), while in the southeastern corner of the state on the same day, Tony Smolder won the day in the local comp with a 428 miler at 94mph.

Today at our local hill I was lucky to hop off in between over the back cycles and catch a nice climb to get the hell out of there. I don't want to wear out the Francisco Grande welcome mat, so today I cruised out southeast to Pegasus airstrip, an airport community in the making. Pretty much a dustbowl with a couple very small grass yards that I took advantage of for breakdown. Air was typical sweet sonoran desert honey. Brisk west winds made landing a bit tricky but got it down next to a grass yard in between dust devils. So I feel great having racked up over 180 miles over the holiday weekend without ever leaving town.

Next stop, Wills Wing for some testing and glider short packing. Then, catch a flight down to Brasil for the next two editions of their comp circuit, first in Porciúncula, then in July it will be in Itamonte, two places I have never seen and I am really looking forward to it. I was seriously thinking about the east coast comp, but I am in a rush to get some quality practice in for the worlds and I really had to go with the stiff competition down south. I think I can learn a lot from these guys, just wish their weather was a little more reliable this time of year. Hopefully we will fly the majority of the days and I can make some progress.

http://superrace2007.blogspot.com/ for more info on the brasilian calendar.

26 May South Mountain

Went out today to see if I could have a little fun off the local hill. The combination of visiting pilots and locals today assured me of having a ride if I decided to go long.




Here we have Allen and Ross setting up, my two wind dummies for the day. Don't launch first: work smart, not hard.

Anyway Ross hops off and climbs right out and I launch 5 minutes later and just get worked by snaky, turbulent crap all the while sinking lower and lower. I finally get a tiny little thermal about 600 feet over the dirt and take it up to join Ross. Both of us were cruising around at 4K dodging airspace and waiting for Allen to take off. The plan was to drag Allen along for a short XC but after he plummeted I was on my own. The goal soon became Francisco Grande and the margarita vortex was very strong however I was able to overcome the pull after stumbling into a 1200 average climb on my final glide which took me to 14K and cloudbase. This was incredible since I couldn't previously get over 7K. Suddenly clouds were popping all over the Santa Cruz task area and my eyes got bigger than my driver arrangements. I headed southeast to the Eds turnpoint, got up to base again, and contemplated the situation.....13:1 to get to Marana-an 80 miler, not bad. Or, I could take advantage of the 10:1 glide into Francisco Grande alcohol and pool resort for a 74 miler. Well all I can say is the margarita was tastier than all my previous beverages today but it sure seemed quiet at the pool without all you guys there.




Sweet flight, sweet air, once again higher than you're supposed to get down here but I'll definitely take it.

pics

Just searching through the memory card, found some nice shots. Can't wait to go back down to Canoa. Hope there is a good turnout so we can work on the LAUNCH this year! Or maybe we'll just run off the low ramp over the hotel. Whatever.

Here's a pic from Canoa that I just found on Jamie's memory card.

Jonny's mantra!!!!!!!!

A windy day at Quest blew several boxes over and this is the second one that impaled itself on a this finpost, cargo-company-forklift style. I think it gusted up to 45 that day.

My landing spot this afternoon. The old greyhound track in Black Canyon City, AZ. Had it to myself except for this old crotchity lady that came out and gave me shit. Rough day today in the mountains, I am so happy that I got those miles in the flats last week. When I landed in the 100 degree heat today, my hands were still ice blocks from the miles of snow I flew through at 16 grand under the one and only cloud line of the entire flight. Shooting for Phoenix, but got pinched out of the mountains by my altitude and zero landing options, and once you find yourself over Black Canyon City, you are there to stay. At least in all my experiences there.

One more shot, a classic Canoa sunset. Gliders everywhere. I think I was drunk before I got out of my harness. Beer delivery was spot on.

the NuGget

This is the GOLD nugget I found at the end of the 283 mile rainbow. SNAG!!!

So I'm at the bank and this is the first deposit after months out of the country and two expensive comps. I ask the girl at the counter for my balance after I deposit the check. She looks me in the eyes: before or after this deposit, sir? So she's cute and has a sense of humor, sweet! I went for the after version, it sounds cooler. $500.34

Thanks Wills!

Florida records and AZ margaritas

I gave myself time to think about going long in Florida and now my head is filled with visions of the Arizona meet. Jonny and I were recounting the flight in between at least fifty margaritas last week and the new impressive fact is the odometer vs. number of breakdowns on our gliders. We both came to AZ to have our very next flight after the Florida record. Well Jonny broke down his glider only once - at the end of this meet. I decked it on Saturday so I had to tear down one more time than him. So after 460 km on the big flight and almost exactly 700 km during last week's comp (1160), I have broken down three times and the Aussie twice. Good for wear and tear on the wings!

Well, although I may have seemed like I didn't care, I really was concerned about how my comp was going to work out...to the point of dreaming about it. I went away after the last day feeling like it just couldn't have gone any better. I wish I could go to a meet that gave such a spectrum of conditions with zero concern for safety and such perfect tasks. Besides Saturday, I would say every task was a very stimulating blend of racing, scratching, relaxing, and views. Not to stroke my inner task setter here - it was without a doubt all luck but wasn't it great?

Back to the Florida flight, I gave Davis my patchwork tracklogs from the dying 5030 and it seems that it was just a data mess. Maybe I will hear more later about that. It was out of character for me to commit to such an undertaking with not one second of forethought or any preparation. As Jonny mentioned, he simply strolled up the Quest clubhouse stairs to see if he could pressure me into going along with him on his record attempt. I must have sounded way less than enthusiastic because he simply walked out, stepped on a dolley, and flew away without me. After replaying my answer to him back in my head, it occurred to me that I sounded like some old, worn out has been. And he was hung over from the night before while I was fresh as ever. So in the end it was not his pressure but mine that got me. I ran out, turned on the vario which was reading less than half battery, and turned on my borrowed radio - wait - it was already turned on. Since the day before. Sweet, that will just take a little more time to borrow another radio while Jonny races off without me. I basically layed on the dolley and was off circling in lift about 7 or 8 minutes after sitting around having cereal in my underwear.

There was nothing remarkable during the flight except how the miles seemed to tick off. In the end it felt like we had done a 100 miler on a normal day. But I must stop now and take the little credit that is mine for that day - there was a low spot, well there were two hairy low spots, but during the second and final one, in a really nasty climb, Jonny begins speaking of landing. Not just landing down the road. Or in a while. But landing. Right now, this field, let's go. Honestly, after sampling the low level air I was tempted to agree, but I thought maybe it would be a little more turbulent than I had counted on when I jumped in my harness that morning so I said 'hey, let's just hit base and think about it'. After saying that a few times, he seemed to warm up to it and we were off to the races again.

Now it was amazing how close we had stayed to that point, but the next 200 miles were spooky. No matter what we did, we ended up tip to tip minutes later. I would take a shitty line, lose a solid grand on Jonny, and we would then take two separate climbs at the next cloud which would put us at base - same time, same place. Ah, but that won't keep happening. That's what I thought every time until we were on final.

And it's the final that made it all worthwhile. Most flights end in a whimper of weak air and slow climbs as you race the sun to the ground. Our epic only turned epic during the last 60 kms. The sea breeze, in fact the sea itself was in sight all day just off our right wings. It was only at around 240 miles that it pinched us up against the huge fire we had been surfing all day. Just as we hit base at the beginning of the most incredible cloud street, the sea breeze pushed under us, spawning little scud clouds way under us and to our side. Now the lift became very good and we basically had to run full speed at base to stay in front of the forming scud. As I looked back on our last climb, I could see that the sea breeze had a bit of an angle so it was zippering behind us and to top it off it was zipping up at about our top glide speed. This was all beyond me at the time, I was just in the moment, dipping one wing into tiny rotor looking clouds on my right one second, then into the crisp smoke boundary on our left the next. We glided. And glided. I'm pretty sure we just kept on gliding.

At some point, it wasn't clear exactly when due to the smoke, the clouds ended and we found ourselves high in the blue, but bathed in thick white smoke. Visibility was not happening and thermals were over. I thought. Actually my vario had quit around 150 miles and had only been able to turn on for about 30 seconds at the beginning of each climb to help me get friendly with the core before it decided it would take another nap. Now, 260 out, I am 100 feet over Jonny out of desparation since the vario couldn't be troubled even to turn on for me. The air was so smooth that I nearly missed it when Jonny started a turn under me. I guess we're climbing. He claims it was 150 fpm but I will never know. He grew weary of it and continued our now crosswind glide to the close highway. That was the one, by the way. The 300 mile thermal. We had a 25 mph tailwind by now and that was the 265 mark. But it would have meant a farm landing rather than a highway landing and I wasn't going to say a word, considering my vario was dead and couldn't give a location, and anyway my phone was too so who cares if I had my location!

Well Jonny comes over the headset saying we need to do a couple opposing wingovers over Chris's car when we finish. We were still so close I could hardly lift my finger to press the ptt or I would slide into him. How cool is that after 280 miles? So our baked brains both agreed and we whipped into two huge arcs away from each other right over the car and I'm pretty sure we both realized at around the same time that when our 270 degree heading changes came together we would smack helmets so Jonny, let's go ahead and do another opposing set I thought. He had the same thought and I'm sure we were both shaking our heads the last few seconds in the air. The field was that uphill into the wind, dreamy sort of place that only the lucky pilots get to land in after a long day. We touched down about 5 seconds and a wingspan apart and savored the Georgia air. Actually it smelled of South Carolina a bit.

Chris Smith was there when we landed, not to mention his in flight entertainment. When he was bored we got to sample a little rap over the air, a little pop here and there. As we crossed more or less into the bible belt, we sampled a minute or so of evangelist opinion as he held the mic to the radio, followed by some more relaxing R&B further down the line. There is really no way to convey the impact of the kind of flight we had. I don't mean the distance, I am referring to the sort of endless team flying that branded the day. It was absolutely incredible and I am well aware that it will probably never happen again quite like that.

283

Guess I caught a decent day at Quest on Thursday! I still have to think about it a bit before I can write details, but I will say the one thing that was the highlight: I have never been so close to another pilot for so long on any flight or during any competition ever. That was about the coolest part of it. Starting a final glide tip to tip after 250 miles of flying is a wierd feeling. Easiest 7 1/2 hours ever. Besides the turbulence in the first part. And the near landings. Mmmm those would have been interesting. Lots of trees up there. And clouds. It was cool as shit flying with Jonny, I will not soon forget this one.

Brasil

Still floatin' on that christmas dough, thousands poorer, but rich with the experiences of the past two months.

Hit Brasil christmas eve, five gliders, a harness, and a bag of clothes in the belly of a 767. My girl and I headed to the southern highlands of RG state for the 1st stage of the 2007 comp season down there. The sky was painfully epic while I was waiting for Nene to bring my glider and then, first day of the comp of course, the weather turned. I ended up with a fourth place finish on the single taskable day of the three day meet. I was very happy with the glider, a little less happy with my decisions for the day, but just as happy to blame it all on being a little rusty with my new vario and not having many hours lately.

That day was just beautiful for a task and, while a little under-called, it outlined what a hang glider race should be. Beautiful totally mellow skies, limited pimping, varied conditions throughout the race, and LOTS of people in goal. (Almost forgot, no arguing and rules BS on launch, just a bunch of guys eager to fly) A sports station was covering everything and got footage of the race and I did some in air footage on one of the days off. Tons of ped's out watching, it was a nice scene and I really enjoyed that place. I wanted to stay for another week and try for some open distance to the west but it just didn't work out.

Couple of days later found us in Floripa, a few hours drive north from the comp site. I have never hiked my glider so many miles in my life! And I hike a lot! I humped that thing up every bump above every beach on that island and, for the most part, I was rewarded with incredible flights, sunset views over the beach, mad acro, etc.....next time I'm bringing the PG!

The pilots were awesome, everybody wanting to help, nobody complaining that I was blocking launches even in the middle of booming tandem business. They were super cool....which is what made the local residents living near the sites seem so much the opposite.

One particular stormy afternoon, aching for a flight, I decided to hike up a local pg site and try to poach a flight before a squall hit. I was just having trouble finding the trail. Asking around I finally located the trailhead behind a rundown old hotel at the base. Government preserve signs all along the trail were encouraging me to have a great time in the wilderness and pick up after myself. I got up there with 110 lbs of equipment and a mild heart attack 30 minutes later. Still catching my breath I heard someone running up the trail. This guy, way too aggressive for his body weight, introduced himself as an employee of the hotel which owned this entire mountain range. He must have been paid quite well because he felt obligated to chase me up the hill to demand $10 reais, about 4 bucks. The vibe was not a friendly one but I was still on a cardio high and I felt like arguing against what was obviously extortion....anyway I ended up winning, sort of. But then after wasting my breath on that criminal the storm hit! Another long hike and a bunch of glares from the hotel 'staff' and I was out of there. Turns out these guys are basically squatting on government land and the mayor is trying to tear their hotel down but it's sort of mob rule in certain places so....they try to make up the difference on easy foreign targets, of course never attempting this sort of thing on a local pilot. I'm glad I could at least waste an hour of his day and get tuned up a bit on portuguese. This same thing happened a couple more times at different launches and that's when I talked to some local pilots about it and got the scoop. This all sort of tweaked my view of that place but the attitude of the pilots saved me from a bad experience. It obviously wasn't about the money, what's 4 bucks when you pay a grand for a ticket? I just had about enough uneducated materialist dribble from the locals for a lifetime.

Whatever, the flying was EPIC!! I got off the lake site, a 400 foot launch looking out toward the ocean but with a 5km lake between launch and the beach. After scratching a while, I did a LOW glide out accross the lake, toes pointed, lips tight, shoulders in, and the T2 stretched it out like a champ...I love landing on the beach. That place was brown with skin there were so many people. I shoehorned the old girl in there and had a little body surf session before I packed up and walked out to the road. Nice day!

The rest of the time down there was spent catching up with my girlfriend and having some great new year's parties. While camping out on another small island for the celebrations, I discovered that my awesome 10 year old tent (it's bulletproof babe, don't worry about nothin' this thing laughs at storms)...had seen a bit too much sun in its day. During one harsh midnight downpour I decided to empty the fly of accumulated water and, a flick of the wrist later, my arm was sticking out the other side of the fly and water was pouring in the tent. Manuela was pissed, I admitted my wrongs, and a week later I was the owner of a new bulletproof, storm shrugging tent. But not until we had spent the rest of that trip under a huge plastic tarp flapping in the nightly downpours and threatening to soak us at any moment. I lost some points on that one.

Now I spend my days in Phoenix making up for lost time in the desert, just trying to catch the good flying days, make a little money painting, and relax. Organizing the comp we're having in May down in Casa Grande is at least a part time effort also with insurance, waiver, tug, volunteer, runway clearing, and other BS. It is looking good though and I am waaaay stoked to finally get my boys down here for some real racing. I just had a nice little ridge soar tonight down close to the comp site and it reminded me how excellent that area is for XC....I was watching the sunset over nearly endless flatlands studded with sudden rock cliffs sending off their last late thermals of the day. I'm already dreaming up how we can go LONG, spending hours with the map and google earth.

All pics courtesy of my awesome girlfriend, otherwise I would have no evidence of these tall tales.

FRUSTRATION........

.....with your instrument 'package' can lead to abnormal behavior. Just ask Jonny, that little ass pirate.

Is that glider hot or what? I obsessed over that thing in Texas....then Jeff Shapiro took her home, bastard. But I got a new one.........
















<---- lack-of-5030-induced violation

Who else loves the 5030?

I was so lazy and so stubborn to not upgrade years ago. I have suffered the failures and disappointments of my gps for years of comps and now after this last race I feel even worse for all the lost points and lost standings that I can only blame on my own inaction.

This thing is so brainless and so perfected. A friggin turnpoint slayer! I think it saved me about 6 seconds plus per turnpoint and start cylinder. That's 24 seconds per day at Canoa. Seventy two seconds in the race total. I wouldn't just lose first place for an equivalent performance...I would be in third! I remember taking the turns last year gps 12 style (one one thousand, two one thousand, three....). More than a couple times I would arrive ahead of Kevy and whip my 180 several seconds after him and get to see his keel for the rest of the race. What was I thinking???

The last day's race start was a true illustration of this instrument's time saving..you have to time the glide from the main ridge to the start cylinder-it's about 3m40sec more or less. The last day I was determined to ace it and save a few seconds more. During the last ten seconds I realized I was going to be too early so I began to slow down....but time began to slow with me it seemed. As the countdown clock fell to 00:00:00, I was full vg, banked up, and stalled to avoid tagging the cylinder early. Luck was with me and I was late by a hair and heard the tone right before my glider half-spun and I dropped right onto courseline. HAHAHAHAH

pics

Jamie Shelden was the photographer in all the shots. The last one is cool, it really captures the feeling...which was-there was a tailwind and I was intensely focused waiting for my pause in air movement to perform a three step no winder from a sort-of cliff. Sort-of because there was only about 50 or 60 feet of drop before you encountered level ground again. There was not even enough room to turn the glider around on launch-it had to be set up facing the edge. This was our Andes launch from last year. With about one mph in my face it was a non event in the thick jungle air. Really it is a great launch with a clean edge, steep smooth running surface, and little turbulence. One day we will encounter a sky without so many clouds and we'll be able to launch the upper site.

The Andes day was our next to last day and it was late enough to be a sledder but the last couple minutes were coolasshit. It was a flat smooth glide and as I got lower I began to hear all the noises of life down below. I soon realized that all the sounds were being directed at me and included horns honking and kids screaming. The whole village seemed to have spotted me but the funny thing was that they were all trying to run and catch me even though i was still at 2 or 300 meters. It was really incredible toward the end of the glide how the entire populace had gathered this strange momentum. The town had no width, only length, and was situated along a thin highway. From the lines of structures located parallel to the highway, swarms of people were running in an arcing path...first toward the highway then gently curving as they all realized that they wouldn't catch a moving object by aiming toward its current location. And it was so odd that they all traced this curving path..all of them for a couple km's. It was quite a sight from just above and I could hear all of them as if I was running in the crowd myself.

Well I began to get scared of the mob mentality likely to greet me down there so I stretched glide a bit and turned at the last minute down a narrow little dirt road through the middle of a makeshift soccer field. After testing the ground with my foot I decided on an impromptu slider...I haven't done one of those for years since being at the Point of the Mountain. It was a cool way to arrive in some foreign village-airliner style. I guess I must have crossed some ditch or fence or something on my glide because I never got mobbed by that crowd. It looked like about 70 or 80 people in the end...all of them super super nice and one guy that helped my break down and carry my wing through some yards to the highway. We set the glider down next to the road in the dark literally at the moment that Raul and company went flying by in the truck. I was without radio or phone so I was glad for the coincidental timing!

The drive was another defiance of death but again we were victorious. A sweet day in the end.

THE north cliffs

THE is right. We see them every day flying Canoa, just a bit out of reach it seems. Canoa's most frequently flown stretch of cliffs totals about 15km and ranges from vertical sand cliffs to sloped leafless-tree-covered ridges, always with a couple hundred meters of beach in front. The north end of the ridge disappears into the sand at the edge of town and reappears about 10km later-only this time it emerges as a 200 meter vertical wall thrust straight out of the breaking waves. No beach. Following it's crest you will see it run out to a point another 5k's further on and then turn out of sight into who knows what. I never went there last year...I always figured that it just ended there...like when the earth used to be flat.

The first two days of the race on the main ridge were just a little too close for comfort with Mikey always 5-10 seconds behind and Raul as his shadow. Now, we had this sort of informal agreement to not use ballast...but take Mike's 200+ pounds and consider that I discovered Raul was using lead and I just figured I had to make things fair.

The only chance to run the north cliffs would be day 3, and we only do one flight a day and usually it's a late finish to the race. The first two days were so close that I had to finish at ten feet off the beach to keep Mike at bay. There was just no way to get back up from that height so I did some thinking the second night and this is how I am going to justify my role in the ballast war.

Anyway, last lap-last day, and I finally have about 30 seconds on Mike. It looks like I will finally be able to finish on the ridge next to the finsh line and get back up for a north ridge run. Our finishing order is set in stone so Mike decides on the same plan. We did a few passes, headed back south to get on the big ridge, and tanked up for the long glide over town to the north. Scott was ahead with a keel mounted video camera and the sun was getting low and giving some awesome light on the cliffs. We connected and, with the camera in mind, I ran the ridge under Scott fast and low with no beach in sight. Pretty cool stuff, it had me tense for sure. Then I pulled up, expecting to see the edge of the flat earth just ending right there...and I have to wipe the salt out of my eyes. There is the most excellent cliff running as far as I can see-totally vertical, an even 200 meters high all the way, bathed in evening sun, and a pristine beach running the entire length. The wind was on so what the hell...

We threw a little expression session at ridge height for the camera (which was out of batteries as it turns out) before gaining some exploring height. I decide tentatively to head north and see where the wind would take me. Cliffs turned to smaller cliffs, then to shallow hills with their soarable sections way back from the beaches. The going was slow with little lift but the ground speed seemed alright. Mikey had mentioned something about going around this corner a couple years back and turning around only to find he was beating a huge headwind to get back...I'm a rock star...I don't care!! What I didn't realize was that the coastline was angling imperceptlibly (to me) to the north east. Turning around at about 20 km north of the nearest retrievable landing area, my glider parked in the now super cross wind. Strangely enough the vario stopped beeping too. Add the fact that I had been cruising fast and low the whole time, and the beach below took on a much harsher appearance as I thought of the day(s) it would take to send a boat to get me, if sea conditions would even allow it.

An eternity passed while I crossed two gaps, all the time sinking and battling a head wind. Things were looking pretty grim. I stretched out, pointed my toes, and somehow got on the windward side of the next section of cliffs on a more favorably facing section and got into the comfort zone again. Mike laughed the whole time from his vantage about 200 meters above and a kilometer behind, fully aware of the hole I had been digging. It's amazing what a different night I would have had with 30 meters less altitude or if I had turned around 15 seconds later. As luck would have it, my night was spent drinking with friends and making new ones in Canoa on a hoppin Saturday night.

It was mildly entertaining to drift through town, laughing with friends and throwing back shots while thinking of my alternate self, the one with 30 meters less altitude on that north ridge run, who was now screaming at Wilson the volleyball on some forsaken beach.

MORE PICTURES

A few more here, and more to come of our great week in Canoa. On the last morning we focused our time on the trike and tandem setup. Some people got their first taste of air, it was pretty sweet not to mention fun as hell for me. After the race in the afternoon, Mike took the shot of the north cliffs. Later we got these shots of Mike and Jamie post race, pre beer, the brightest moment of the day. We all gathered at the local restaurant in Canoa for the parting shot.

I think we will make a run at the local Guayaquil 200meter hill for a last flight before packing it all down and heading back to the states. Plans are already laid for a return in a few months! Flying meets culture meets beautiful scenery meets incredible people. It's been hard to find a better spot.

Shit! Jamie I edited out your beautiful glider pic....you'll have to send it again if you want your fame to continue in the wingman blog.

Pics in no particular order

Me, Jamie, Raul, Mike, and you can't actually see Alex Morillo....but he's down in those trees somewhere. He was pissed hahahaa.

CANOA OPEN FINALS

I really wasn't lazy to update this thing, it's just that it was a waste of otherwise quality beach time to wait on the crazy slow connection of the computers there. Anyway, the flying was even better than last year...the wind was on, the sun was out, we were ballasted up, and Canoa gave another great week. We broke the course record by something like 3 minutes or so on the last day with a solid 14 mph wind, pretty brisk for this place I guess. It's a 48 K course and I think I did it in 38:22. Thanks Kevy for staying home with the little bundle of joy, I finally won! The results run like this..

Dustin Martin 1st
Mike Glennon 2nd
Raul Guerra 3rd
Rafael Arcos 4th
Jamie Shelden 5th and first woman (only woman and she got a huge trophy for it hahahaha)

The last day we did a bunch of tandooms on the beach. It was cool as shit, I love seeing the look on their faces. The wind was on enough that I could let the passengers soar the launch ridge back and forth on their own. Then land on the wheels and stay in the harness while the guys clip another one in.....

Pics will follow, I have to track Jamie down and get her memory card. We have some cool shots.

We short packed Mike and Jack's gliders tonight after driving back to town from Raul's sweet little beach house. We have to get them to the airport by 4:30 tomorrow morning, but first....party tonight

Next----the Andes, we're gonna be there day after tomorrow I guess, a new spot that I didn't see last year.

cross-ecuador rally style

We have arrived!! Canoa is showing it's good side again as we arrived in the evening to snag a quick sunset run. Raul, Mike, Jamie, myself, and two Peruvians who were flying when we showed up all had a dream run up and down the almost endless cliffs. I finally got my chance at the big north cliffs a few miles north of the town. Three of us headed out at about 1500 feet and easily reached the cliffs. We did a several mile run over beachless vertical cliffs with waves crashing against vertical cliffs just below. The wind was ON. On the way back south I guess Mike and Raul decided to do a practice course run so I followed them into the moonlight to the first turnpoint...even though we were cookin it was getting pretty dark when we arrived and on the way back we all resigned ourselves to a pitch black landing. We had the hotel floodlight on the landing spot and we couldn't see eachother in the air so we just waited until we saw a glider appear on the ground in the spotlight and then we knew it was our turn...ecuador air traffic control. Today is race day. No holding back, except ballast...right Raul? Tomorrow I might tell the story of our ferry boat bribery that cost us 80 bucks and got us ....nothing. hahahhhaha Raul. pics??? Ok I tried, but it took forever, maybe tomorrow this computer will be faster.

Thoughts on Ecuador

Well it's been a year since my epic flight at the Harq's and I finally made another go at it last weekend. That place is so sweet. And it reminded me that this blog is still around so I guess I will start updating since I do have a lifestyle that allows some opportunities for writing about a lot of cool shit....thanks in no small part go out to my sponsors Wills Wing and Flytec USA who have turned me from your typical aiport kid to a globe-surfin hang gliding comp bum. This year I'm planning on focusing more and hope to post some results to make me worthy of such support.

Next stop: ECUADOR. It's that time of year again and this year promises to be sweeeet since I convinced a couple friends to come fly with me down there. Jamie Shelden and Scott-LookAtMyNewT2-Beery. Two opposites for sure. Helping Scott pack his wing will be an episode all on its own.

We fly out of L.A. Sunday morning and meet Jamie in Miami followed by a quick hop down to Guayaquil. Raul, our Ecuadorian brutha, has once again arranged digs for us all not to mention airport pickup in style.

Last year consisted of about three days of aerotow in Guayaquil at Raul's kinda-private paved strip next to a consistently soarable ridge. This year we will be using his recently cleared launch and lz on that ridge and hopefully we will set the Guayaquil xc record that eluded us last year. This will be followed by a week of the best coastal ridge soaring available in the world. Last year we hit Canoa, Cruzita, and Montanhita. They are all such cool places that you'll just have to wait for pictures to understand. And the best air......did somebody just say LOOP? God I am cravin a throwdown.

So keep an eye open. I will start updating this thing with pics and cool stories of Jamie getting wasted starting Monday.

Imaginary Borders

The harder I tried to understand the difference between the far side of this sign and the side you see now, the more they merged. Behind me, mountains and cactus and bighorns and large cats and the sun setting. Ahead, mountains and cactus and bighorns and large cats and the moon rising. And launch as it turned out. Hey, I don't decide. The mountain was shaped before the sign.

Hundred mile views in every direction were served up while I focused my energy on assembling my flying machine. The transition from big slow land animal to human-become-bird was as smooth as a thought. A few light steps down the slope seemed like unnecessary formality as the wings became mine.

Well I'm not a bird even with these wings and the air reminded me on this flight. So I kicked and screamed on my way down, refusing my destiny until my altitude wouldn't allow me to ignore or wish away the thousands of saguaros below and ahead and to my side and...

You see, it's already three hours driving to get to launch and it just wasn't on my schedule to check out the other side for landing areas. But we make our decisions whether we think so or not. I had made mine and this moment had been speeding flat out toward me all day. It was as impressive as I had imagined.

The distant sliver ahead was the highway connecting two small forgotten western towns for the people who wished to make the journey. I would be landing approximately in the middle of nowhere at just about..sunset. This was a perfect recipe for solitude while I waited for the rescue car. The saguaros turned to palo verdes, which seemed to morph into greasewoods unnoticed. The stress and excitement both faded as I found my clearing in the desert. I dipped in, tasted the cool air of ground effect, and stepped back down to the ground.

The glider jumped into the bag. I guess I've done that enough times. I watched the pink sky turn blue then black as the crescent moon grew brighter. I could hear my heart in my throat. The shadows on the mountain spread until the entire ridge was just a black shadow against a black sky. I thought about a lot of things and of course about how long until my rescue arrived.

It's these moments that have molded me from my bed head to my flip flops. It doesn't have to be flying but, through flying, I have met the most important people in my life and discovered the best places the world can offer me. This is awesome.