Steve recounting one of his adventures to his brother... further evidence of his full throttle approach to life... and his high strung sense of humor
Date: Sat, 25 May 1996
From: BounceCity@aol.com
Subject: Beer, adrenaline, and sleep deprivation....
Sorry to be so out of touch, I've been busy, busy, and more busy! Just not enough time in the day for everything. Well, I just returned from the Hang Gliding thing. What a great rush! It started off rather difficult though. I returned from a hard four day Northwest trip last Sunday. I got up early that day in Kalamazoo and flew to Detroit, then to Washington, then back to Detroit, then down to Knoxville, and finally, home to Memphis! Needless to say I was already tired when I landed about 7:30 PM! I wandered out to the employee lot only to discover that my RX-7 was nowhere to be found! I had loaned my car to a FedEx pilot buddy that was in town for training before I left and he had gotten confused on where to park it and put it in the wrong lot! He was off flying a trip and nowhere to be found so I finally had to rent a car for the week! (He's paying for it too when I find him!)
So then I drive back to the house to pack for the hang gliding thing. By now its almost 10 PM and I have to be at Lookout Mountain for class by 9 AM the next morning! I finally get the car (a Neon-ugh!) loaded, grab a beer and the dog and hit the road. I quickly start falling asleep at the wheel. As everyone knows, I don't drink coffee, but I finally had no choice. After my third stop for a large coffee I'm sufficiently wired and the dog seems happy that I'm running off the road less often. After 7 long hours I arrive at the top of the mountain at 6 AM! I spot John Owens van parked next to the launch point. After much arm twisting, he had agreed to join me on this little adventure and after he spent the whole day throwing students out of airplanes, he had made a 6 hour drive from North Carolina, arriving at 4:30 AM himself. I walked over and knocked on the door of his van and had one of those weird conversations that went roughly like this:
"John, open the door"
"Go away Steve, I can't believe I let you talk me in to this!"
"Come on, it will be fun. Look class starts in three hours, and I need some sleep, let me and the dog crash in the van."
"Go away, every time I let you talk me in to something I almost get killed"
"That's not true"
"Yes it is, every time you talk me into to one of your harebrained vacations, it involves a long drive, a death march, no sleep, no food, no water, and we get the crap scared out ourselves!"
"Uh... you're not still mad about that backpacking trip in California are you? [a trip where we ran out of food and water before we ran out of trail] That was over 10 years ago!"
"You want more recent examples?"
"Okay, okay, this trip will be different. What could go wrong? Open the door, its cold out here"
etc., etc., etc......................
Obviously John was still a little edgy from the long drive. Finally, he lightened up, unlocked the van door and I threw my sleeping bag out on a bunk and the dog and I tried to get some sleep. Unfortunately, the coffee had me WIDE awake. The dog slept fine. John was wired too, so about, 7:30 we drove out for breakfast. At 9:00 we showed up for class back at the pro shop on top of the mountain with no sleep. Our Instructor for the first day of class turned out to be a Northwest flight attendant! Her husband is also a pilot for Northwest and, both being avid hang gliding enthusiast, they had just bought a house on top of the mountain. Small world.
Early in class we discovered that only 3 or 4 people are killed each year Hang Gliding. We were shocked. We had serious doubts about the manliness of any sport that only kills that few of its participants each year. More people probably get hurt playing backgammon! Oh well, we could change that, John assured me.
Anyhow, class continued and we finally soaked up the basics and went out to the "Bunny Hill." We were informed that we might want to hire a "caddie" to carry our glider back up the hill for us between flights for $3 a pop. John loudly proclaimed, "No way! What kind of quiche eating man would do that!? WE can carry our own gliders up the hill!". I meekly agreed but sensed that our instructor knew something we didn't. Unfortunately, after we assembled our gliders (a remarkable easy task we discovered) and hauled them up the hill, the winds picked up and we ended our first day of training without getting to fly.
After we left the bunny hill, we drove to the landing zone below lookout mountain. We had rented a 32 foot trailer for the week in the flight park abeam the landing area. After making all the essential food and beer runs to stock the trailer as appropriately as any two skydivers would, we settled back to watch some of the more experienced folks flying down from the mountain land right in front of us.
Then we decided to try the first of our three "tandem tow flights" that came included as part of our instructional package. We were each strapped in to a larger hang glider with an instructor and towed up to 2000 feet behind an ultralight. It was an absolute blast and loads of fun. The dog was enjoying himself immensely also. A very "dog friendly" place, Alex enjoyed running around everywhere chasing hang gliders and stray cats. Everyone found Alex's mohawk haircut amusing although I think it made them wonder about us a little. I think they were envious. None of the other dogs had a haircut nearly as cool. The first day over, we headed back to the trailer for some well earned cold beer.
Day two started off early. Back to the bunny hill for our first flights and a new instructor. Although we both had a learning curve I picked it up remarkable fast. Despite what they said in class, flying a hang Glider struck me as very similar to flying anything else and reminded me a lot of my soaring training in real gliders years ago. I was doing flared landings to a stand up by my 5th flight! The instructors were shocked by my rapid progression and quick grasp of the whole concept. I really feel that for an experienced pilot, it's pretty simple. By the end of day two, sprinting for a foot launch down the hill followed by hauling the gliders back up the hill in the humid 90 degree heat was taking its toll. Despite the long hours I put in the gym, I sure seemed to be using muscles I didn't even know existed. The "caddie" idea was starting to sound VERY appealing. Since John and I are both faithful readers of the "manly manual" neither one of us wanted to be the first to suggest it...
"You look a little tired"
"No, I'm fine, how about you?"
"Oh I'm fine, but if you want to get a caddie, I'll get one also so you won't look bad"
"No, really, I'm fine, but if you want to get one, I'll get one."
"Oh no, I'm okay, really"
"Me too"
Finally, we couldn't stand it any longer and put our egos aside. Only $3 for each trip up the hill sounded like a steal. I wouldn't do it for a hundred. We asked our instructor how we would go about getting a caddie for the next day and he said he'd talk to Suzie about caddying for us. "SUZIE!?" We weren't ready for this. We quickly consulted the "manly manual" and found this to be completely unacceptable. We finally asked the instructor,
"Do any guys caddie?"
"Sure", he said, "why?"
We tried to explain that if we were gonna break down and pay someone to do the manual labor for us like a couple overpaid, lazy yuppies, we'd just feel alot better about it if we weren't making a woman do it, paying her or not. Somehow the thought of getting to the bottom of the hill and handing over the heavy, awkward glider to a woman, and then walking back up the hill unencumbered while she huffed and puffed next to us with the glider on her shoulders was just more than any fragile male ego should ever have deal with. Although the instructor looked at us as if we were a couple of Neanderthals when we said this, we could tell that deep down that he understood. He said, no problem, and he'd take care of it.
On the last flight of the morning, John pulled a muscle in his leg during the launch and we rushed back to the trailer to pack it in cold beer. About 3 PM that day, one of the instructors stopped by the trailer to let us know they were going to have an unscheduled evening class in an hour (with caddies!) if we wanted to go. "Sure" we said, as we tried to hide our beers by sliding them under the table with our feet, "No problem". We made sure we could get caddies and went back out to the bunny hill and assembled our gliders. I had become HANG ONE qualified after my last flight and was now ready to go to the "Big Bunny Hill." HANG ONE meant that I could foot launch, fly straight ahead, do a stand up landing and probably not hurt myself.
John hurt himself again after a few flights and came over to where I was on the big hill, opened a beer a watched. One of the other students was having some problems. When the instructor asked him to do two 90 degree turns after his launch, he got a strange look on his face and said, "Uh... won't I run back into the hill?" The instructor, unruffled, added that these would be reversing turns, not turns in the same direction. John and I looked at each other and smiled. We suspected that this guy might provide some cheap entertainment before the day was out. We didn't have to wait long. A few flights later, he stalled his glider and didn't hear the instructor's whistle blowing (meaning you're slow) till after his glider had nosed over to recover. Pulling in on the bar more, he dove straight into the ground in a way cool, spectacular crash that did considerable damage to the glider. John and I weren't really concerned about this, we had already decided that this guy should have been culled out of the gene pool a long time ago. As it happened, he was unhurt.
By the end of the day, my progress had been fantastic. With some luck I would get to jump off the mountain solo before the week was out. We went back to the trailer to cook some food and drink some cold ones. We had taken up the habit of feeding all the stray dogs and were being greeted by 6 or 7 dogs now every time we walked in or out of our trailer. As long as we were in the landing zone, they seemed to follow us everywhere. Alex loved this, giving him plenty of friends to play with after a hard day of chasing my glider up and down hills.
The next day it was back to the hills. I was still doing extremely well and right before a flight John looked over from where he was prepping his glider and commented that I was being too mechanical and my flying lacked the aggression he expected from a fellow BASE jumper. He was trying prod me into doing something stupid (read that- "entertaining") and I took the bait. Linda, our instructor that day, asked me to try to do my first attempt at reversing 90 degree turns. I did a beautiful launch and immediately threw my weight WAY right and held it. By the time I figured out I had screwed up, I was overshooting the first turn in a BIG way and coming close to running back into the hill. I immediately threw all my weight back to the left, forgot to push out, began slipping my turn. I ended up almost digging a wingtip on landing and tried to plow the field with my face. After I unclipped, I looked back up the hill to see John rolling on the ground laughing hysterically and my instructor giving me a scornful look. Thoroughly humbled, I gave my caddie the glider and forced my scratched and dirty body back up the hill. My training continued for the rest of the day with no major glitches.
At one point, some other students were having launch problems and John (having an army flashback no doubt) suggested to our instructor that she should change her motivational technique. Instead of politely saying "run" John suggested she scream "Run faster you worthless maggot!!!!!!" at the top of her lungs. Fear, sarcasm, and ridicule were time tested and proven methods in the military he assured her. Upon being told this, it looked like Linda was making a mental note to keep a closer eye on what John was smoking out behind the hill during breaks.... Oh well. By the end of the day I was cleared for HANG TWO (pending passing the written test) and approved for making the first of three mountain flights I had planned. HANG TWO means I probably won't hurt myself, any bystanders, or spectators unless they can't run very fast. I went up to the pro shop to take my written tests for HANG TWO and Mountain clearance. I did real well on the tests except for a couple aerodynamic questions I took issue with. In the military, "quibbling" with instructors over questions missed is also a time honored tradition. Since I'm omnipotent, surely, the questions must be wrong or badly worded. I tried to explain to the instructors that the absolute statements made on the test concerning aerodynamics were incorrect. Certain questions were not true if the aircraft was traveling faster than Mach one (or the airfoil had reached critical mach). They didn't seem to comprehend what I was telling them and although I didn't get credit for the questions, I left the pro shop with the smug knowledge that the first time these guys tried to take a hang glider anywhere near mach one they would be in BIG trouble. So much for my attempt to enlighten other segments of the aviation community (sigh). We finished up the day by doing two more tandem tows to 2000 feet and called it a day.
John and I cooked out with some other folks that night to celebrate my upcoming mountain flight. I had finished the hill training in record time. Normally it takes seven days and I did it in four despite being weathered out the first day! We partied late into the night with some other Northwest pilots that going through training also (they had an "airline special" promotion going on all month). We were all doing incredibly well, which just goes to show that Northwest pilots CAN fly sober! The next morning we were all in serious pain with particularly bad hangovers. As John drove me to the top of the hill, I groaned that this might be "stupid". John assured me that he had seen me do plenty of stupid things before and now was no time for me to change. Ah yes, nothing like reassurance from an old friend.
When we got to the top, the wind was tailing and they said I couldn't go. Since I had to drive back that day, I figured that I'd just go buy a couple T-shirts and load the car. Somewhat relieved, I figured it would be a lot more fun without the hangover anyway and I could come back in a couple weeks. We dragged our feet talking to people we'd met and just before I could make a clean getaway, one of the instructors came up and said the winds had changed and told me to grab a glider, harness and helmet and "gear up". I looked over and John was smiling (he was enjoying this...) He said he'd drive back down to the trailer and grab a camera. We both believe in "California rules" which means if it's not on film it didn't happen. By the time he got back I was still assembling my glider and he helped me finish up. As I carried my glider over to the exit point, I wondered out loud why none of the experienced guys have gone off yet. John said it was probably just like the drop zone - throw a student out first and see what happens. (Now I really felt better).
As we approached the ramp, the instructor gave me some last advice - "Just don't do anything stupid and everything will go fine". John started cracking up when he said this and the instructor looked confused, not knowing about our earlier conversation. I felt like saying "Gee...I was planning on doing something really boneheaded but since you said not to, I guess I won't". Right as I was getting ready and making my last checks, on of the experienced guys behind me said something that came out as "feel the wind, BE the glider", although those weren't his exact words. Obviously this guy had one acid trip too many (or maybe he was from California) but after this "Use the Force, Luke" advise I was having some serious doubts about this crowd. Anyhow, it was too late to back out now so I looked around, checked my wingtips and nose one last time, called "Clear" and ran off the edge of the cliff.
The launch went picture perfect. The flight was relatively uneventful except for a minor pitch trim problem with my glider and I had a wonderful flight and flawless standup right dead center in the middle of the landing zone. After I landed, I was breaking my glider down and I looked up to watch another student making his second glider flight. He did real good until he got into the field. I noticed he was flying straight at the large (and high) windsock which was sitting kind of out by itself. Then I noticed he was looking at the trees on the edge of the field and not straight ahead. (I felt an impending sense of cheap entertainment about to happen) Sure enough he flew straight into the wind sock about 10 feet off the ground. (Natural selection is an amazing thing isn't it?). The glider's downtubes got bent up pretty good but the pilot was unhurt (Natural selection sometime tries but fails...).
John arrived from the mountaintop and helped me finish breaking down the glider. By the time we got back to the top, the winds were less favorable for students and I had to get going anyway. So we packed up, drank a beer and hit the road. John and I both had long drives in opposite directions. The biggest risk I took all week was dealing with the holiday traffic all the way back to Memphis. (A Neon at 85 is a hazard in itself) I got back about 6 PM and was going to repack and get ready for the three day jump boogie at the parachute center here but I was so tired I decide to blow it off today and jump tomorrow and Monday.
Well enough about my "adventure of the month". I can't wait to go back and make some more flights. I should head back in about two weeks! It was such a blast. John has to go back to finish up, but his leg might not be better by then so I'll have to go back at least a couple times. I'd like to work on getting my 10 hours of air time so I can apply for my HANG THREE rating.
Next month will be a mixed bag of short skydiving, hang gliding, and scuba vacations (Bay of Fundy with Pat Fitzgerald). I'm hoping to do a backpack also but I may not have the time. Any how, this babbled on forever, so I've got to run. Between vacations, work, and the military stuff, I've been home maybe 3 nights in two or three weeks! I've got a stack of unopened mail almost a foot high! Gotta run and hit a workout at the gym!
Blue Skies,
Steve