The long week-end knocked at my door and I promised myself not to check my e-mails last Friday night. At first, I succeeded. After dinner, my wife and I went to Silver City to watch an IMAX movie and on our way back, we planned something for Saturday. Upon return, without even thinking about it, I turned on the computer and discovered an e-mail from Ian Grant inviting me to participate in the May Fly contest the next day and, by the same token, take a few steps toward my Bronze Badge. Without even knowing it, my better half had now entered into a competition with Ian. As they say, the road to hell is paved with good intentions and I anticipated the worst.
But none of that occurred.
I guess she must have realized that a grounded pilot constantly looking at the sky makes a pretty miserable partner. Instead, she left for the cottage with her sister for the whole week-end.
On Saturday morning, I started my “guilt trip” toward Pendleton. Ian had told me this would be a great day for thermalling and as a Roman Catholic pilot, I could not avoid the guilt of accepting the pleasure of being in Mother Nature’s arms for the afternoon. At the pilots’ briefing, however, I felt somewhat cheated when Ted Froelich gave his forecast. It was not obvious that Mother Nature was going to be so hot after all. But glider pilots must have faith. Delaying our departure to maximize our chances of staying up meant I could receive a “cross-country 101” from Ian while still on the ground, a real bonus.
But none of that occurred.
I guess she must have realized that a grounded pilot constantly looking at the sky makes a pretty miserable partner. Instead, she left for the cottage with her sister for the whole week-end.
On Saturday morning, I started my “guilt trip” toward Pendleton. Ian had told me this would be a great day for thermalling and as a Roman Catholic pilot, I could not avoid the guilt of accepting the pleasure of being in Mother Nature’s arms for the afternoon. At the pilots’ briefing, however, I felt somewhat cheated when Ted Froelich gave his forecast. It was not obvious that Mother Nature was going to be so hot after all. But glider pilots must have faith. Delaying our departure to maximize our chances of staying up meant I could receive a “cross-country 101” from Ian while still on the ground, a real bonus.
Ian and I had lunch on the flight line while I experimented with the final glide calculator, which proved to be a very good idea later in the day. We took off at 14:28 and immediately after release, I thought I was going to heaven as we hit a very strong thermal which launched us to 5,400 feet in one shot.
We managed to maintain enough altitude to go through the gates and start what was going to be the Way of the Cross, a combination of courses that must have been designed by Brother Hormidas, bringing us from one steeple to another within the Pendleton area, starting with Plantagenet.
This first leg was not too difficult as we encountered zero sink most of the way.
We then met Karl Boutin in an L-33 over the church and flew in formation with him toward Fournier, at least for a while because we lost track of him along the way. Maybe I was just too busy looking at Ian’s map and giving him a vector. The total absence of thermal made me wonder if I could still recite my act of contrition. I was somewhat relieved when I saw the steeple of Fournier’s church, with a cross pointing at the sky like a glider desperately looking for a thermal.
This is when we commenced our descent into hell. Ian asked me to use the final glide calculator to figure out whether we could make it to Pendleton. We could but with a thin margin. I kept recalculating along the way, using Wolfgang’s genial contraption as if I were saying the rosary. On the other hand, landing out began to appeal to me when I realized that I would need to tell my wife I had abandoned her for a flight of such short duration. Was it better to go through purgatory before going home? We arrived over Pendleton just in time for an abbreviated circuit and made it in one piece. We had flown for 27 km via Fournier and back to Pendleton without encountering a single thermal. Our glide took 3993 feet for an average L/D of 26.5. It was a challenging day for a novice cross-country pilot!
Once at the flight shack, we found out that Karl had landed out in Fournier and we needed to retrieve the glider. One more tick mark on my new Bronze badge sticker. I gladly volunteered.
We came back to the Club tired and lucky to get assistance from other pilots to rig the glider. Doug Laurie-Lean and I held one wing and took the instructions from Normand Fortin, wiggling our hips each time he would tell us to wiggle until he told us to stop our silly antics and start wiggling the tip!
My evening ended with a free dinner with Karl at the Bourgetel restaurant, our latin temperaments soaring over a nice bottle of red, discussing how to convert new souls to our wonderful sport.
My evening ended with a free dinner with Karl at the Bourgetel restaurant, our latin temperaments soaring over a nice bottle of red, discussing how to convert new souls to our wonderful sport.
What a spiritual experience! Thanks to my wife and Ian for letting me go on a wing and a prayer!
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