Welcome to Autumn! The change came quickly this past week, and now it’s official. Our days will start growing shorter than our nights, but consistent thermal conditions should continue on a daily basis for most another month. It will be downright cool tomorrow (Friday), the coolest in who knows how long, with ample sun and temps gradually warming again the rest of this coming week. Recent strong westerlies will give way to a week of easterlies, and if they’re northerly enough perhaps a day or two of a Crystal specialty: bow wave.
Most people live, whether physically, intellectually or morally,
in a very restricted circle of their potential being.
They make use of a very small portion of their possible consciousness,
and of their soul’s resources in general.
Emergencies show how much greater our resources are than we had supposed.
When I took primary glider training 42 years ago we discussed emergency procedures once, for a few minutes, but that was it. From there forward, while occasionally wondering what might really happen when ‘it’ hit the fan, I never did get around to procuring more dual.
As time goes on without an actual emergency, a peculiar thing happens. One part of the brain begins to assume it may never occur, gradually diminishing its importance — while another part continues to remind you that eventually it will happen, and each additional safe passage only brings that fateful reckoning one day closer.
My introduction to actual emergencies (like all my training beyond the absolute minimum) ultimately amounted to self-training. OJT, for better or worse. I was already a low-time instructor at that point, with two passengers in the back of a 2-32, and when I tried to open spoilers the handle wouldn’t budge. Turned out the guy on the port side was so big his leg prohibited even rotating the brake handle to unlock it.
Suddenly it was time to try a stunt I’d heard of but never witnessed, the infamous no-spoiler landing. Fortunately ’32s are plenty draggy and easy to land in any case, but they also happen to be very reluctant slippers… Having no choice, I mixed full left pedal with a little right stick to see how it would work. The airspeed indicator was rendered useless by sidewise airflow, but I had long since lost the habit of checking speed on final approach anyway. I just pushed over until it felt a bit too fast and then backed off slightly.
Steady, steady, and yes it worked out fine. Surprisingly easy in fact, but if we’d been in a hotter ship that first attempt might still be floating up the runway in ground effect.
So from that day on I’ve always placed special emphasis on training (myself and my students) for what could happen, because I now know it eventually will.
Since then I’ve experienced so many takeoff and landing emergencies that, though they’re never welcome, I have to admit they’re usually kind of fun!
Temperatures have really dropped off lately, as only one week remains before the last official day of summer. Within that, we’ll see a mild ‘warming’ trend for the weekend (all the way up to the low eighties) and thermals not much higher than our local mountaintops.
Last weekend, two Crystal Squadron stalwarts made a run north under comparatively low ceilings. Their adventures are presented below. Though neither captured the coveted Diamond, make special note of each story’s final line…
CROSS COUNTRY, September 9
Dr. Jack predicted cloud bases around 10k to 12k along the entire route, and a lot of cloud coverage.
Arriving at Crystal I had a few chores that needed to be handled before getting a tow, low tire pressure, wing dolly tire puncture, etc. I got into the air at 12:00, later than planned. Even though the mountains were mostly in shadow, the climb out in the mountains was not difficult, I was able to climb to 10.5k before heading north towards Bishop. The sky had cloud coverage most of the way across the desert, but nothing worth turning in.
I struggled at Backus (Pontious) before getting enough altitude to glide to the mountain range, and once in the mountains again I was only able to climb to 9.5 K. Even though there were low cloud bases along the way, most were only decoration. I could see virga south of Inyokern moving towards Boomer, the local house thermal. It was a race to get there before rain moved in. Bradley (ES) was further behind and determined he would not be able to get there in time. I was able to get to Boomer and concluded it would be safer to not stick around and work the lift, so I pushed forward with more clouds ahead hoping they would give me altitude to stay above the ridges. Plan B was to backtrack to Inyokern approaching it from the north side. If that was not an option I would go to Plan C and land in a known farm field.
Well the clouds ahead worked. Not enough to keep me above the ridge, but high enough to make the next alternate in the valley, Cinder Cone Dry Lake. I worked north up the valley and across to the Inyos arriving at an altitude that didn’t leave much altitude for searching, but got lucky and was able to climb above the ridges. I made it to Bishop, but pushing any further north with cloud bases around 12k would not be high enough to make a glide from Boundary Peak to Mina, NV.
After being grounded for 2 months, I really enjoyed the struggle and rewards of this flight.
The day started with my radiator giving up the ghost on my drive to Crystalaire. I figured no way I’d be flying this weekend. Luck, some fast thinking and an awesome crew had me launching on time. PV and I were the only two to go straight-out on this marginally forecast, low ceiling day. We launched shortly after noon into an over-developing sky.
A shout out over the radio from our sniffer Dale Masters was much appreciated. ES left the second ridge at 11,000 and headed North a little behind PV. This was more cloud cover than I’d flown XC in and it immediately became apparent that my route ahead was completely shaded. The usual landmarks were all but obscured by darkness.
When I arrived at Silver Queen and was working a nice thermal PV radioed that the mountains weren’t working. As I climbed through 9000’ I looked down and saw PV coming in on the deck. I alerted my crew that Mojave would be my next alternate and turned toward the mountain looking for sunny areas to provide a chance of getting back to cloud base. That wasn’t working, so with enough reserve I called California City as my next alternate.
Each time I flew West to the mountains I found nothing and returned to lift over the Honda Track. There I climbed to 9000’ cloud base and had enough altitude to just make IYK. I headed North with enough margin to return to California City. The low ceiling, squall cells coming from the South and my lack of comfort with the off field landing sites ahead sealed my fate. I radioed my crew and landed at California City. We had ES in the box just as the rain and wind started.
With trailer in tow, my crew dropped me at the repair shop in Van Nuys, which had replaced my radiator and I was good to head home. Not a great straight-out XC day, but I learned much more than on an easy booming one.