SOARING

June, 1987

IT LOOKS LIKE A GOOD DAY TOMORROW

It all began on a Thursday night in September when the front door opened and my husband Dick announced, "I'm taking tomorrow off". It's suppose to be a good day tomorrow.

Now to any normal housewife this statement would have her pondering just what the heck "a good day tomorrow" had anything to do with her husband taking a day off. However, to a soaring couple it could mean only one thing. A good soaring day was in the making.

I'll admit to a silent moan upon hearing this news, as I had planned on golfing with some friends the next day. Although I was disappointed to have to cancel my golf date, my friends were very understanding because they knew I was torn between the two sports; golfing and soaring. They had often heard me say, "Gee, I'm playing lousy, I should have gone soaring". On the other hand, my soaring friends have heard the same thing when I have been "shot down".

"Gee, I should have gone golfing".

Getting back to the day in question---After phoning to cancel my golf date, after dinner, after showering and throwing a couple things in a bag, after packing and gassing the van, and wondering again why we were going to drive for two hours at ten o'clock at night to our hangar in Ionia, we were on our way because "tomorrow looks like a good day".

So, tomorrow became today after a few short hours of sleep. One nice thing about soaring in Michigan is that the lift doesn't start at the crack of dawn so there is time to have breakfast, dress and assemble the ship without a lot of rushing around. At this time of year, with daylight savings still in effect, if we are to have any cu's for the day, we may see a bit of haziness developing around ten-thirty or eleven o'clock and by noon, at the latest, we had better be in the air and ready to go if we plan any type of task.

Ours was a typical day! The cu's were beginning to pop and the wind was blowing our hangar doors back and forth. Everything loose was flying all over the place. A decision was made to put water in our 1-35 because of the twenty knot surface wind, and it was only noon.

About this time, while we were arguing just who was going to fly, and I was defending myself with the statement, "You know you should fly, Dick, because of the trouble I have going against the wind." Dave Nelson pulled up and asked, "Who's flying today?". He just grinned and shook his head when I said "Dick" and Dick said "Ducky".

Now you must know that Dave flies the "Schueman ASW-12" and will fly miles and miles away from the airport if he has at least zero sink.

While Dick was busy winding the barograph, installing it, getting new film in the lone camera and finishing taping the ship, Dave and I were looking at the streets forming and trying to keep our hats from blowing off our heads.

Dave declared he was going to try a 500km flight. I couldn't understand where he was going nor just what he was going to do with all the wind we had kicking up today. After he explained his plans, he said, "Ducky, why don't you do a down-wind dash?". See how far you can go. On a day like today you could go to Pennsylvania or even to Buffalo, New York. I laughed, called him crazy, and went inside to look at the sectional. Dave followed me inside saying, "If you don't want to go that direction, why not just follow the streets and go to London, Ontario or St. Thomas in Canada?". I knew then I was safe! I didn't have any charts for Canada, knew nothing of their aeronautical rules or laws, and I didn't have a clue as to the complications of their custom regulations.

All this didn't phase Dave one bit. He just went to his car and came back with his charts of Canada, saying: "Here, use my charts. Here's London and there's St. Thomas. You're always trying to set state records. This should get you a good one." With that he left to go on his own 500km flight.

Dick came in and asked what was going on. After explaining Dave's idea to him he started to pull out the declaration boards. There seemed to no question then on who was going to be flying on this day!. I'd fly but I'd be darn if I'd declare any place in Canada! Instead, I'd try a goal flight about 130 miles away which was down-wind dash enough. Besides, how did I know if there was any lift under all those streets!

Let's see---water, banana, candy, lipstick, comb, phone money, sunglasses, landing card. "Oh, there goes my hat again." Stop at the john. Drink of water. Tell the towpilot I've got water on board. Is the rope a good one? Have him be over the airport at release altitude. Is the barograph on? Is the camera wound? Why do I have to take another picture? Oh, didn't I sign the board? I've got ten shots left, right? Help me with my shoulder straps. I'll call after I notch the barograph and after I see how the lift is to tell you if I'm really going to head out on course. Guess I'm ready!? Let's close the canopy. Glad we tested the balance of the wings with this water. Positive control check, instruments set. Can't think of anything else to delay this flight, so thumbs up, and I'm off!---and just look at that, it's only a little after one o'clock!

Thank goodness I'm at 800 feet. Plenty of time to dump the water if something goes wrong now. Carrying water always worries me in case I have a rope break on take-off. It takes about two minutes to empty our wings and we aren't supposed to land with water, so what do you do? Do what you have to do but do it very gently I've been told.

Release altitude and right over the airport. Pull, and there goes the rope. Turn right. Let's get this notching over with and start exploring the conditions. My gosh, I'm flying straight and level under these clouds and gaining altitude. Great! Now, let's move over here on this side of the cloud and see what happens. Dummy, you've got a west northwest wind, why do you think moving over here to downwind side of the cloud you'd be in lift? Get back over to the upwind side. What happens when I go from this street to that one? Yep, like the book says, "sink but good lift under the next street". Okay, now what happens trying to go against all this wind? Right! If I slow up enough, I can fly backward but sure can't make much headway against the wind. It's a downwind flight or just don't leave the airport. In fact, this is the best lift I've had all summer. What the hell, "Kilo Yankee to ground. I'm on my way to my declared goal--St. Clair County Airport." "Kilo Yankee Ground. Great! I'll Pack up the trailer and close the hangar. Keep in touch."

Dave, already on course downwind, reports he is miles ahead of me and the streets are working all the way. Bob Krause, who had also decided "tomorrow looks like a good day", is flying ahead of me in his Vega and reports good conditions on course and wishes me good luck. He is keeping in touch with Kilo Yankee Ground (Dick) for me because I'm getting out of range for our car radio. At one point he sees Dick racing along the ground trying to keep up with me and even directs him by saying, "Okay, Dick, you can pull in now. You're past that car." Bob is on my course flying an out and return to Owosso. We pass one another about fifty miles from our home airport, and it's a beautiful sight to see him streaking along so fast. I ask him why he is going so fast, and he reports he isn't making much headway going into this wind, and that I'm the one that's going so fast.

The towns do seem to be just flowing under my wings. I hardly have time to look at them because after a couple of circles, I'm up to cloud base and back cruising at seventy knots, loosing very little altitude, and in fact, actually gaining altitude. I'm having a great time and feeling pretty cocky about this time. I have slug of water, a piece of candy, open a stick of gum, look at my altimeter and wonder where I lost all that altitude all of a sudden.

I'm approaching the Flint Bishop Airport traffic control area and have to have at least three thousand feet which naturally, I don't have that much altitude. "Come on, Ducky, you just have to find lift! You can't land at that airport, and you surely can't turn back. Just look at how much you're drifting downwind as it is. Your best bet is to go north of that control area. Darn, this wind must be about thirty knots now. The water ballast helps but it sure makes it harder to climb. Be calm, nice and easy. Wasn't that a bump? Don't look at that altimeter! Let's just find that bump again. Had to get cocky didn't you? If I get up again, you can bet I won't let myself get low. I'll hug those clouds." I'll---"Kilo Yankee, this is Kilo Yankee Ground, do you read?' Wouldn't you know, with all my other problems, I've got to find the mike and answer him! "This is Kilo Yankee. I read you but I don't want to talk now. I'm in a spot of trouble." Silence. Click, click.

"POW! Boy, there it is! Let's ride this baby to the top! Stop hunching over. This is a good thermal, don't lose it. You only have half of it. There, got it! Up, up and away! This is a lot better. Go to the top, five thousand feet. Good enough. Get over the Flint control area and get back on course.

"Kilo Yankee Ground. Can you read?" "I'm fine now. Sorry I was so abrupt." "Read you loud and clear Kilo Yankee, but you're getting way ahead of me. Can you wait for me to catch up?' "Are you kidding? I'll wait for on the ground at St. Clair County but not in the air." Click, click.

Just where is St. Clair County Airport? I should see Lapeer Airport if I'm back on course. There's that road, there's that drive-in. It should be right here, but I sure don't see it. Never mind forget Lapeer. You've got a compass heading for St. Clair County Airport. I'm about halfway there but I have to go more south. You could use a bit more lift since you've been crossing streets. Circle now, and "oh my gosh, there's Lapeer Airport back there." You've past it! "Get going, Ducky. You've still got to find your goal airport."

You're going the right way, crossing between the streets and pulling up in the next street. Circle if you must but keep going. You've been to St. Clair County Airport before when you made your Silver Distance from an airport which is now a General Motors plant. Just look for some tall towers, some white storage tanks, some railroad tracks. You have to be getting close now. I see the towers.

"Hey, Ducky, this is Dave. How're you doing? I've made my turn point and I'm heading home. Are you going into Canada? The streets look real good to the north." "Hi Dave. I'm close to my goal, I think , but I don't think I'll go any farther. That's all virgin country for me over there. How are you doing against the wind?" "Not too good. I've been flying for fifteen minutes and the same town is underneath me. Looks like I'll have a struggle getting home." "Good luck, Dave. Call Dick and tell him I'm near my goal and will be landing there." Click, click.

I should be seeing that airport. There are the towers. The storage tanks are just across the water east of the airport, or where the airport is supposed to be, but I'll be darn if I see it! I've plenty of altitude to search for it. This has been some flight. I've never flown in streets for such a long time, nor as far. Didn't spend much time circling like I usually have to do. I know I'm near my goal, but where is that airport? Oh, there it is, off my left wing. I've flown too far south. It doesn't matter. You're to land anyway, and you'll have no trouble flying back to it. But wait a minute. It's not so late because you didn't take much time getting here. You didn't get lost. you're having too much fun to be tired. The streets are still good. Didn't it say somewhere in the rules that you can take a picture, have your goal flight record, then go on over into Canada to London or St. Thomas.

"Kilo Yankee, this is Dave. Dick wants to know where you are." " I'm over St. Clair County Airport, Dave." "You're going into Canada?" "Think I'll try a picture here, Dave, and I'll get back up to altitude. Tell Dick I'm thinking about going on." "Good, Ducky. I'll relay the message." Click, click.

How am I supposed to take this picture? All I need is a good picture from the right place to prove I was really here. It must be that I have to be on the other side of the airport looking back along the line from where I started. That's the way I'm going to take it anyway. Why must I always lose so much altitude when I take these damn pictures? Must be because I take so many shots just to be sure I get at least one good one. I'm not taking anymore! See if you can get back up to cloud base.

"Ducky, this is Dave. Be sure to look at the lakes while you're up. Never seen them look so pretty. How are you doing?" "Fine Dave. I've taken my pictures and I'm climbing. Tell Dick I'm biting the bullet and crossing into Canada. You're right, the lakes are beautiful and so are the streets. How are you doing?" "As I said, it's a struggle. I'll tell Dick you're going on." Click, click.

Well, my dear, here you are in Canada! Dig out Dave's charts and try to find either London or St. Thomas. Lifts great, streets are great, speed is great, scenery is great, I'm having a ball! I WILL stay high under these clouds!

Look at all those lovely fields to land in if you can't find either airport. Just follow this road. It curves here. That little road comes into a funny angle right there. Take a circle or two now. Don't let yourself get low. Boy, what flat country all around. Just look at that lake over there, and could it be? Is that it ? Good gosh, it is. That's the London Airport? Sure is big. I could just about final glide to it, I think. Hey, don't be dumb, stay high! Anyway, that airport has paved runways going in all directions. Looks like a commercial airport to me. I don't know what all these lines and colors mean from the chart. Think I'd better stay away from that place. St. Thomas Airport looks small, more my style. It's supposed to be south of this road somewhere.

Wait a minute. Straight ahead on this road is another airport. Looks like, maybe, twenty or thirty miles away. Bet I could make that one if I can't find St. Thomas. There's a town over there that should be St. Thomas, and the airport is supposed to be north, south, east west; yeah west of town. Oh, Ducky you DO have trouble spotting airports, don't you? Hmmm, lift isn't as strong but with a little work, maybe I could find that other airport up the road. Better circle here a bit. What's this? Hot damn! It is---it's the airport at St. Thomas, and it has only one paved runway. That's for me. I'm going over there now! "Dave this is Kilo Yankee. Do you read? I'm landing at St. Thomas. Will you tell Dick?" "Blur, blur, blur, you blur, blur, blur."

"St. Thomas. This is a glider out of Michigan. Request an airport advisory please." This is St. Thomas. The active runway is two-seven, the winds are fifteen to twenty." Don't think I'll ask if that's miles per hour or knots. "Thank you. Is there a grass runway I can use?" "Yes, to the south of the active. What is your number?" "It's 341--just a minute." My god, I can't remember. Dig out your registration papers and look, stupid. "St. Thomas, my number is N34136. "Read N34136. Will you want to clear customs here?" Oh, lord, CUSTOMS yet! I guess I have to. "Yes, I'll clear customs there." "Can you be here before five o'clock because if you can't you'll have to pay for overtime to keep the official on the field." "No, I can't make it by five but keep the person on the field for me. I should be there in about ten minutes after five." "What assistance will you require?" I really need all these questions right now! I've got some things to figure out before I land! "St. Thomas, I'll need a truck or car with a rope to pull me off your runway." "Understand. We will have someone standing by."

That takes care of that! Now, down to business. Open those valves and dump the water while straight and level. Remember what happened to you that time that you opened them while you were circling and how heavy that lower wing got before you realized why it was happening. You sure had to stand on that rudder hard to get that wing up. Runway two-seven, which one is that? Think, Ducky. The wind has been out of the west helping you to fly east all day. You land into the wind, so it has to be the one where you land going WEST. Yeah, that has to be right. Now, the grass runway is south, he said, of the active runway, so--north, south--south is on the left side of the runway if I'm landing on two-seven heading west. North, south, east, west--yeah, now I've got that all figured out. They must fly the same pattern here as we do at home. Anyway, that's the way I'm going to do it.

"This is St. Thomas calling that glider. Are you're sure you're at the right airport? We have an east-west runway and sort of a pie shaped grass pattern with some buildings on the north side. We don't see you!" Will you listen to that! How does he know I have a hard time finding airports? "This is glider N34136. I've been flying straight and level, but I'll circle and then you'll be able to see me. I'm north of your airport at about twenty-five hundred feet losing altitude for an approach." Boy, am I trying to lose altitude! Naturally, without water I gained altitude. I've lowered my landing gear, put in thirty-degree flaps, and am circling in sink, "Okay, we see you now. You are at St. Thomas." I'm not going to say a thing!

All you have to do now, Ducky, is get this thing on the ground. Make it a good one. Get your airspeed right. Do everything by the book. Announce where you are in the pattern when you get there. Check for traf--Hey, what's that guy doing over there? He's saying he's going into my airport. Okay, I can wait if I retract my landing gear and rais---"This is St. Thomas. We have a glider getting ready to land. Advise you go around. You are cleared to land after the glider." How about that! The same rules apply here in Canada. Let's go in and get out of that guys way. "This is glider N34136 entering a left downwind for runway two-seven on the grass. Glider turning left on final for two-seven on the grass." Looking good, Ducky. Airspeed good for this wind; a little more flaps, push the stick forward a bit. Fine, but straighten up on the runway a bit more, time to flair, eyes looking ahead. OH DAMN!. No forget it. The gear IS down. There's the ground, and here's the air, and there's the ground again. Throw in those negative flaps and roll it straight. I'm down, stopped and in Canada! Now what? Here comes a truck and I haven't even opened my canopy yet. Sure hope they didn't notice that small bounce. I could blame it on the rough runway but guess I'd better not. I'm a guest in this country. Let's just get out of this baby and stretch!

A young man gets out of a big flat-bed truck, reaches in back for a half-inch thick rope, asks me where I flew in from, looks at the charts I show him, and says, "That was a nice flight." He's through fooling with his rope, turns, and as nearly as I can figure out, sees my ship for the first time because he says, "Hey that thing doesn't have a motor!" I couldn't believe he really said that nor could I help laughing when I replied, "No, it's a glider." "I know that but I thought you had some sort of power assist on it somewhere. That WAS some sort of flight, hey."

After hooking up to the truck, I warned the driver not to go to fast because I had to walk the wing while we pulled the ship to parking place. Yes, I ran all the way, hollering for him to slow down. He pulled me right up to the Administration Building and parked me behind a turbo-prop plane which was ready to fire the engines. I decided to sit on the wing while he did his thing and got out of there.

Meanwhile, a woman in a uniform walked out of the building, came over to the plane and was inspecting it inside and out and threw me a couple of glances while I was perched on the wing. When it was safe to leave the ship, she said rather sternly, "Follow me!" I grabbed the papers we are required to have in our ships at home, my license, my goody-bag, my landing card, and follow thinking, "Oh boy! Here comes trouble." Inside the Administration Building she turns and says, "We better talk in my office." Now I KNOW I've got trouble! We need privacy?

She walks into her office, goes to her desk, puts both hands on the desk, bows her head , and says, "OH, let me take these shoes off. My feet are killing me!" I laughed and completely relaxed. I knew then I wasn't going to be in any trouble with this customs lady. As a matter of fact, she didn't know exactly how to fill out the papers she was required to keep, as I was the first glider pilot she had ever had to clear through customs. She was wondering what her supervisor would say about this incident tomorrow.

She admitted feeling a bit foolish, but she had to ask me about luggage and firearms. I thought the only thing I had to declare was my banana, but she wasn't interested in that! She asked what happened now. I explained my husband was meeting me here with a trailer. We'd have dinner in Canada and drive back to the States tonight. She gave me a blue piece of paper to show to customs when we got back to the border to prove I had cleared customs earlier. While she was gathering up her papers and putting on her shoes, I came to my senses and asked her to sign my landing card to verify I was here today so that I could claim a Michigan feminine record for distance. After reading the card carefully, she signed it, returned it to me, and said, "Since this is your lucky day setting a state record, I won't charge you for waiting for you to land. I have a commercial flight waiting for me at another airport(London), so I'll just charge the overtime to them. Congratulations. Good-bye.

I was through with customs. I could make a much needed pit stop, wash my face and hands, comb my hair, put on some lipstick, and find the airport manager to have him sign my landing card. I asked to use the phone, I didn't know if Dave had received my last message to relay to Dick. I called St. Clair County airport and left a message for him in case he showed up. After using the phone, I asked the only person left in the building, "Is there a wall chart around. I'd like to know how far I flew today?" "You belong to that glider?" "Yes." "It's about two hundred miles, hey." I thanked him then began to wonder how he knew where I had flown from. I hadn't told him. The man walked out and I was all alone in the building.

I dug a couple of quarters out of my goody bag for a cup of coffee. I found the machine took US coins but gave change in Canadian money, so at the rate of exchange, that coffee cost about eighty cents. I sat down and remembered a story Dave told of his landing near Buffalo, New York, flying out of Ionia, and the big deal he had with the news people coming to interview him; men patting him on the back and saying, "One helluva flight, fellow! No motor huh! Can't believe it! Have a drink and come to dinner with us." Well, there I sat with my coffee, my signed landing card, my papers piled next to me, all alone waiting for Dick to find me. Looking out the window, however, there was a swarm of people around my 1-35. One day I may learn why men soaring pilots receive so much attention while whenever I have an outlanding, I have to flash a dollar bill just to get inside to use a telephone. About the only thing I ever get are directions!

"Lady, you looking for a guy with a trailer?" "Yes." "Well, he's outside, hey." My gosh, already? Dick had received my last transmission after all and wasn't at St. Clair County airport. Now I got the big grin, the whoopla, the hug, the pat on the back, the invitation to have a drink and dinner. I even got a big kiss and that is something I never hear the guys talking about when they have an out-landing!

Now I was grinning, talking, explaining and saying over and over, "I can't believe I'm really in Canada! I can't believe I did it! Let's go outside and take my picture of the glider and me under the maple leaf flag. Did you get the flag? Are you sure you got the flag in the picture?

When we walked out to the ship, the people around it gave a nod of their heads and just walked away. There wasn't much left for us to do but put the ship in the trailer, wash up afterwards, ask for a good place to eat locally, and leave. But now I had a chance to ask Dick if he had any problems coming through the border with the empty trailer. "No, no problem. When the customs lady asked, 'What have you got in the trailer?', I said, "Nothing. I'm just going over to pick up my wife. Her eyes got big and she said, 'In that?' After Dick stopped laughing, he explained the situation to her and she said, "Okay, go on."

After dinner we started the trip back to our hangar in Ionia. We thought it would take about five hours, We were about right. At the border, incidentally, we were asked, "What have you got in the trailer?" "A glider." "How long you been in Canada?' "Only a few hours. I just flew over this afternoon." "Did you clear customs?" "Yes, here's my blue paper." "Did you buy anything?" "Only dinner." "Okay, go on." And I had worried about customs regulations!

On the long drive back to our airport, I kept saying how much faster it was to fly the distance than to drive it. Dick, on the other hand, said, "Yeah, the trip chasing you was fun. Didn't seem as though it took this long to drive after you this afternoon.

Very late that night, we pulled into our home airport, tired but happy. We blew our horn from the time we pulled on to the field until we arrived at our hangar in a last celebration of the flight. Also, several pilots spend the night sleeping on the field either in motor homes, trailers tents, or as we do, in our hangar. We wanted everyone to know we were finally home!

As we were opening a beer and turning on the television to maybe catch the last news and weather report, in walks Dave and Bruce Bagley whom we had awakened. We opened a beer for them, handed a crying towel to Bruce who had to work today, and heard about Dave's flight. No, he didn't make his 500km. That west northwest wind that helped me get to Canada was too much even for Dave to buck coming back west. He landed about fifteen miles short of the airport which I think was remarkable! After Dave kidded Dick about taking the day off and then all he did was drive all over the countryside chasing me, we turned our attention to the weather report.

It looks like a good day tomorrow!