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Besides our online directory (currently showing your name, e-mail and phone #s), your address, rating and emergency information will be kept confidential and available only for the HPA Board of Directors.

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Aloha

Brazilian Ray 808-779-9013
raimar2000@gmail.com

A Brother in Need

I stopped by to see Berndt at Queen's last night and we talked for a couple of hours. He's not usually that talkative - maybe it's the pain meds! He had his surgery yesterday morning, and it went extremely well. They removed his shattered L4 and fused the adjacent discs with a couple of short rods, and he was fitted with a back brace to stabilize the T12 fracture. He'll be at the hospital for about another week as his incision heals, and he'll be getting some physical therapy advice to help him during the six weeks he needs to wear the back brace.

But he also needs our help with that part.

He won't be able to live in the cramped little cabin of his boat while he's wearing the back brace - so he asked me to help him find someone in our group who might be able to put him up someplace during that time. He's not asking to be taken care of, just for a place to crash where he can stand up straight and lay out flat while he wears the brace. He's also hoping that wherever he stays, there's something he can do to keep himself physically occupied.

Please consider if you have any space available for him to spend his nights over the next six weeks. His accident has put him in a tough situation, without medical insurance, without any family or friends here aside from our flying community. He's going to need all the help we can give him. I have a couch available in my living room, but I'm out of town on business from March 1-14. If someone else can find space for him until at least the 14th, I might be able to take him after that. Give Berndt a call at 538-9011, room 562, or call me at 223-0144. I know he would also appreciate it if any of us could stop by while he's at Queens over this next week.

Worth the wait

Today was definitely one of my most rewarding Nanakuli flights to date. It all started out when Scot posted on the Chatter Box about heading out there with Maui Aaron. My morning was occupied, so I opted to try and join everyone out there in the afternoon.

I arrived at around 1:45 p.m. Scot, Aaron, Yaro, Alex, and Suicide Pete were just hiking up. It turns out they arrived later than the original "plan". By time I hiked up to low launch Alex, Jaro, and Pete were already all laid out there, but the wind seemed a tad to light. After a long rest stop I opted to hike up to mid launch, Aaron and Scot headed for higher ground too. Scot was able to get off in a light cycle from mid launch, while Alex and Suicide Pete didn't have much luck out of low launch.

Maui Aaron decided to go even higher, and I decided to stay at mid launch for a while. Czech Peter made his arrival and headed straight up to high launch. Jaro eventually gave up on low launch and made a short stop at mid to help me straighten out my leading edge. I waited for a long time for some semblance of a breeze to develop. I got in and out of my harness at least three times, debating whether to hike higher or just do some launch clearing. Each time I'd unhook, a tiny wisp of wind would come up to entice me to strap back in.

Finally, after what seemed like at least an hour, the wind goddess decided I was a worthy devotee, and she stirred up enough wind for me to get off. I struggled for some time - getting just above, then just below mid launch height. And then it happened - I hooked a nice thermal (yes even though the sky was completely OD) and from that point on my flight became magic. I kept getting those comforting vario beeps and climbed up above the peak. It was very satisfying once I made it up, it took some serious work.

Alex was urging me to go XC to Waikele to retreive his car, but I was simply having a great time right where I was. I didn't stay up exceptionally long, since I had taken off my flight suit in one of my "out of harness" moments so I was actually cold up near cloudbase. Jeff and Alex prodded me to fly out and land at the beach, which I happily did once Jeff said he'd come down there and get me.

I hope to see more days like this one at Nanakuli - although a clearer sky would have been nice.

A Taste of Dill

I had a short window to play yesterday because of some family responsibilities, but I made the most of my limited time: a bunch of us flew out at Dillingham in perfect light post-frontal conditions.

A phalanx of intrepid pilots marched up the cliff to test their launching skills at a variety of spots up top: Jon, San Diego Jason, me, Czech Peter, Jorge, Reaper, Sony, Brian, and Seattle Matt. Jackson Hole Andrew was getting his check off flight in a sailplane and flew fast circles around us for a couple of hours. Conditions were sweet and light - it was the most thermic day I've ever flown out there. Launching was a struggle for most pilots, since the airflow wasn't really moving across that little knob, and there's no space to run up there. I was lucky to get off first, and after a sweet hour and a half, I finally forced myself to land just in time to rush off and pick Amelia up from school.

I heard that there was a lot more great flying after I left: Jason got high over the main ridge for a sweet view of the west side, and lots of pilots flew out to Kaena point and back. Reaper got the short end of the stick though, being the last left on launch in the lightening breeze, and he finally opted to hike down.

I think we need to fly out there more often - I have a feeling it's flyable out there more often than we realize. Czech Peter seems determined to do some research on that subject, so stay tuned.

A few notes on the site for anyone not yet familiar with it:

Conditions: most of the Mokuleia coastline faces due north. We typically fly out there on light north days, which are most common after cold fronts pass through in the wintertime. It's possible that light trades and sea breeze days could work as well.

Air traffic: At Dillingham we share the air with a wide variety of fellow flyers: sailplanes, towplanes, ultralight trikes, military helicopters, skydivers, albatrosses and boobies. When you get out there, please check in at the sailplane concession and let the two glider companies know you're planning to fly. Also call the UNICOM tower at 637-8271 and let them know where you plan to launch and land so they can give the other pilots a heads-up. Please DO NOT land on the beach in front of the airfield, since it lies directly beneath the aircraft landing approach pattern. Also, please leave the drop zone landing field to the skydivers.

Landing areas: the triangular grassy field next to the old roofless concrete bunker near the trailhead is a great place to land, especially if your car is parked at the tower. If in doubt about where to land near the gliderport, please discuss the options with UNICOM staff at the tower, and they can help you pick a safe spot. Of course, anyplace past the paved road towards Kaena Point is also fine.

Launches:

1. Kealia trail - a thousand feet of switchbacks leads to the top of the ridgeline behind the gliderport. Park at the ATC tower behind the gliderport and head back to the trailhead at the foot of the ridge. The launch areas we've used up there are quite committing: there is no room to run, and the air doesn't always flow through to help you inflate your wing.

2. Low launches - about a mile past the end of the paved road are the overgrown remains of an old access road that switchbacks up the ridge face, and there are a couple of decent low spots we've used to launch on stronger north days. To get out there you'll need a 4WD, or you could park at the road's end and hike out there.

3. West side access: in the old days, the guys used to get day-use permits (for hiking) from the DLNR office in town, and then drive their 4WD trucks around the west side to the Air Force gate at Yokohama Bay, and up the back to a nice grassy spot overlooking the Mokuleia coastline (past the end of the paved road). If you do it that way, you will want to be sure it's soarable so you can land back on top.

Superlative

A description of Tantalus inevitably requires us to employ superlatives: best launch, worst landing options, most urban setting, fewest flyable days. Then there's switchiest air, boatiest lift, and scariest sink.

But how about earliest flight, least qualified student, most embarassing incident? Or even, heaven forbid, longest article?

Peter B. helped me lay out and launch to join Pete in the nice boaty air over the overlook pavilion. Lots of big easy figure eights until suddenly all the lift was gone and headed into trees on Diamond Head side, came down draped over a thirty foot Koa. Took over an hour to untangle and tug it out. Waved at rescue copter. Clammed up for reporters. Sighed with relief when Pete smooth-talked the cops in cruisers.

That's the fourteenth entry in my logbook, from December 19, 1999. Not the fourteenth flight since my P2 sign-off - fourteenth flight EVER, after mostly bunny hill flights.

For those unfamiliar with Tantalus: I'll start with the positive points. It's a drive-up site. A verdant state park on the Round Top ridge (adjoining Tantalus), a thousand feet above sea level on the shoulder of Manoa Valley, with a breathtaking view of Honolulu from Diamond Head to Ewa. The vista invites comparisons to the views below the spectacular urban flying sites of Rio, Monaco, or Hong Kong. Surrounding the lookout pavilion is a huge grassy clifftop lawn to rival the best alpine launch slopes of Europe. From here you can catch thermal cycles to cloudbase while taking in a fabulous view of the Honolulu cityscape. And you can even topland right back at launch! What more could you ask for? Well, how about a landing zone, or even a good bomb-out option?

And now for the not-so-positive points. By far the best landing option here is back on top at the launch (which seems a lot smaller when you're landing than when you're taking off). But what if you don't actually get up from launch? A few hundred feet down the cliff is the so-called bomb-out LZ: a slightly widened area of the road where a couple of cars can pull off to admire the view on the way up. Only a lunatic would consider that little patch of roadside asphalt a landing zone. Quite a few more hundred feet below that sprawls the densest collection of tall buildings, power lines, and residential neighborhoods that you will ever fly over, interspersed with school playing fields and city parks, all of which have generated unwanted interest from security and enforcement personnel over the years when our pilots have dropped into them. Tantalus is very rarely flyable, at most a handful of days a year, when the winds are light and southerly and it's not too cloudy. The air here is famous for sudden switches in direction, most notably from straight up to straight down. In addition, there is a busy airport approach corridor right in front of the ridge. Venturing away from the ridge at all puts you over the grandfather of all Part 103 "congested areas".

On that fateful day a little over eight years ago, we had been waiting in vain all day at Diamond Head for the sea breeze to get strong enough to allow us to try soaring there. For future reference: a sea breeze is never soarable at Diamond Head. Late in the afternoon Reaper finally surrendered to the sea breeze, and decided instead to lead a charge up Round Top Drive to check out Tantalus. I hustled up there and watched the guys file into the air, but some modicum of sense led me to question the wisdom of following them. I couldn't see the school field the guys described to me, somewhere down below and around the corner. In retrospect, only a lunatic would consider launching here with only fourteen flights to his name.

Reaper's visiting comp pilot buddy Peter Brinkeby was there, but without a wing, and he said to me, if you aren't going to fly that thing then give it to me. I sure wish I had. For future reference: if Pete B. offers to fly your wing, let him. You can tell your kids you once loaned a wing to one of the world's top pilots. Instead, I asked him if he thought I should go for it. What did he know? My instructor was already in the air. I radiod to ask him too - he said sure, whatever. For future reference: Reaper is not the type of guy to tell you that you're not ready to try something. Seeing several gliders soaring easily above the ridge, I couldn't resist the temptation, and Peter B. helped me launch. I got up easily in smooth boaty lift and did big slow figure eights right over the park, between the lookout and the antenna station.

After a half hour or so, the lift died all at once, and everyone started to sink out and headed around the corner out of sight. I tried to follow, but my beginner turns were too slow for that sinking air and I plowed into the forest canopy just below the park road, halfway between the lookout and the antenna station. My big red wing was perfectly snared at the treetops for all of Honolulu to see, and I had to endure the unwanted attention of a rescue helicopter, two police cruisers and a news team. Peter Brinkeby turned out to be a fabulous tree climber and helped me get my wing down - it still took us at least an hour. Now I can tell my kids how one of the world's top pilots scrambled up a tree to rescue me from severe humilitation after a major lapse in judgment. What's more, Reaper turned out to be a top-notch hostage negotiator, and the cops let us all out of there with a warning.

After that embarassing incident, I soon figured out that Tantalus wasn't a regular flying site for students or novices. In fact, the only people that seemed to fly there on the few days it worked were the hottest of dogs, the boldest of cowboys; notably Nalu, and later on, Fireman Dave. Guys who were willing to take their chances with the man, and with mercurial flying conditions. I heard horror stories of pilots getting ticketed on launch by irate DLNR officers, and even one storied weekend in jail for a city flyover. I heard about security guards hassling pilots who landed at private school playing fields and golf courses and city parks. One of our more notorious hot dogs once sunk out onto a rooftop below the lookout. Another time a pilot pulled off a miraculous spot landing in the tiny triangle park at the foot of the hill, bundling his wing into the bushes just in time to see police cruisers speeding all around trying to find the fiendish parachutist.

Seven years went by, and we heard fewer stories of persecution from the few pilots that flew there. At one point there was even a newspaper column that described our flying there as "rare but allowed". I drove up there numerous times with other folks, but even on the occasional days when the weather supported it, I didn't launch. The recent closure of Round Top Drive forced us to drive almost an hour around Tantalus Drive, and that made checking the conditions up there quite a bit less appealing.

But this past year I finally flew Tantalus again, with Suicide Pete. It was his first flight there, and my first since the ignominious tree crash. We drove the long way around, and spent a while checking it out, before Pete bravely decided to take the plunge. The air was going up like gangbusters, with some kind of massive convergence, and Pete was quickly sucked up to cloudbase high overhead. I gritted my teeth and forced myself to join him, but I instantly regretted it, finding that the strong lift wasn't helping me get over my long-simmering anxieties about this place. After frantically trying to spiral down through the rising airmass for what seemed like eternity, I gradually managed to fight my way below ridge height, and then made numerous attempts at toplanding, before finally tumbling onto the hilltop in relief. This was certainly not the therapy session I had been hoping for. I drove down to pick up Pete at Manoa District Park, wondering if maybe this just wasn't a site I'd ever come to terms with.

But this past Friday, I achieved a breakthrough in my treatment - I flew Tantalus a third time. I actually flew twice, toplanding and re-launching for the second one. I can only describe the flying with the most hackneyed term in paragliding: epic. To my great relief, I found that the flights were not only safely executed and free of persecution or encounters with foliage, they were supremely enjoyable. I drove up the short way, since the road has been reopened, and met Pete out there again (see his florid and sesquipedalian account here), along with Jaro and Berndt, and Bob who just came to watch. The four of us enjoyed surprisingly smooth thermic conditions, exploring Round Top ridge, Manoa Valley and the vast sky above them until we just couldn't handle any more of that sweet air. We all pulled off interesting but effective toplandings below the pavilion, and as we packed up our gliders on the lawn, in the long shadows of the date palms, we felt like the luckiest people on earth.

Needless to say, Tantalus is not an appropriate flying site for a pilot with only fourteen flights. In many ways it is our most demanding and risky site. Demanding of our skills and judgment, and risky for our safety and our criminal record. I guess that's why the hot dogs like it so much. The majority of pilots will never even consider flying here, but for those who aspire to it, I urge you to take your time, try all the other sites first, and work on your thermalling and your top-landing skills elsewhere before finally launching Tantalus. I can tell you, it's worth the wait.

The Days (and Nights) Of Our Lives

So ... I was just watching my favorite soap opera today, and started daydreaming ... What if I flew the Full Moon the other night? Of course I wouldn't actually do it, because that would be illegal, crazy, irresponsible, some would say stupid ... but, what if ...

I think I'd launch from Crazys. The lift would be perfect, maybe around 7 o'clock. Then I would probably go check out the Lighthouse, notice a private little helicopter perched on one of the bunkers, and soar there for a bit, maybe with some visitor, could be named Jason. Firedave would probably be flying as well, that guy would not miss a good night flight for anything.

We would all watch, as it's getting darker, whales are playing just outside the bay and the moon is slowly rising behind the clouds. Then it would get dark pretty fast, and the moon would finally pop out of the cloud, with a chunk of it missing.

At this point, I mean, if I was even there, I'd see someone landing, assuming it's the visitor, being smart and going to meet the waiting girlfriend, before he gets in trouble, for missing a romantic dinner, or a make out session on the beach, or both. The Moon is low and there are plenty of clouds, Dave nowhere to be seen, so probably somewhere close by - time for my flashing headlamp.

For a little bit I would regret not bringing my iPod, Pink Floyd would be perfect right about now. I keep hearing all these stories about hangies zoning out on The Floyds ... I guess those guys knew what's up a long time ago (except for all those tubes they have to carry).

I always thought that music would bother me at night, make me paranoid not being able to hear other traffic, but now I'd realize, that thanks to FAA they are all easy to see - except for Fireman, who's still swift, silent and invisible.

If I flew that night, I would also notice, by local standards, that it's a little chilly at 20 degrees (sorry, I have my vario set in Celsius), and I'd be very glad to put on jeans, for the first time since I got here in November - I guess I learnt my lesson on previous soap opera day-dreaming adventures.

If I had to guess, since I don't actually do it, what the Full Moon flying looks and feels like, I'd say, back home in Jackson it's beautiful, but cold and usually just sled rides. Kahana is probably nice and quiet at night, mostly dark, except for the moonlit ocean.

Makapu'u on the other hand is most likely very visual, with luau and lit up dolphin pools down below in Sea Life Park, still busy traffic on the highway, fairly busy air traffic, light show of Hawaii Kai, Kailua and Kaneohe MCBH. Lights in the distance, what could be Moloka'i, but maybe more likely Mau'i. The bright flashes of the Lighthouse, still the lurking helicopter next to the Lighthouse, which could take off at any moment, not having any idea I'm right above it, in my dreams ... but the coolest show would be the whales breaching in the moonlight. It's a nice sight even in the daylight, but being in the air and watching them playing just like me, would make me smile.

If I was flying that night, I would also remember I had a stash of chocolate flavored Cliff gel, so I'd just sit back, pop one open and sip it like an ultra expensive creme brulee in an exclusive restaurant, with the finest view, in the company of the most special people I know ... someone I lost a while ago, someone I just recently met, some good friends I haven't seen in a while ...

I'd wake up from all this nonsense, in what would have to be Rabbit Shit, strange place for it ... the shadows of my glider, on the Makapu'u walls, racing with me thru the darkness ... and, finally, getting cold and tired, pulling one brake a bit harder than the other, watching the lights get blurry below, mild G forces in the darkness and familiar soft, grassy LZ, brightly lit by the Moon, tall boy in the cooler of my beach front property on wheels. Sometime around midnight, tired and smiling, I'd be driving back home to North Shore, thinking how we're not jealous of birds, we just admire some of them. Most of them can't fly at night. We don't either, but we could.

Listening to Alpha Blondy on my headphones - yep, that is not exactly legal either, but Big Brother can't see at night, I just checked. I've had quite a few flights, some great, some not so great, almost all fun, some I will never forget, some I do my best to forget soon, but, if I ever was privileged enough to fly it, for over two hours, the Makapu'u Full Moon Eclipse night would be in my memory forever.

The next episode of Days Of Our Lives is March 21st, time for another day-dreaming session ... to be continued ...

Czech Peter

P.S. Thanks to The King of Bad Ideas, for the check up phone call, making sure I came down to earth safely, after my imaginary flight!

Disclaimer : The above is a product of my imagination, influenced by toxins in the environment, second hand smoke, asbestos in building insulation and mercury in tuna. Not enough breast feeding could be at fault as well. I do not suggest or condone night flying, night driving or Pink Floyd.

Best Wishes for Berndt

Lots of folks have been asking, so for anyone that hasn't heard: Berndt was hurt at the Makapuu LZ on Friday, and is at Queen's now, awaiting back surgery. He would appreciate visitors - he's stuck on his back with nothing but his morphine button for entertainment. I know he'd appreciate it if anyone could stop by to chat; he's in room 562. Let's keep him in our thoughts during the days ahead. Hang in there, Berndt! See comments for updates on his progress.

Tanta-less, Tanta-more, Tanta-lize

He didn’t just anger the gods, he REALLY pissed them off. After stripping him of his kingship, he was banished to Tartarus (The Underworld); hung from the limb of a very productive fruit tree; submerged to the neck in sweet, drinkable water; and left to suffer for all eternity. “Wait!” you say. “His hands weren’t bound. His lips weren’t sewn shut. He wasn’t blinded or made senile. He was surrounded by soft water and delicious fruit. You call that ‘suffering?’”

OK, here’s the thing: He hungered. Yet, every time he reached for the fruit, the limb of the tree would withdraw to just out of reach. He thirsted. Yet, every time he bent his head to drink, the water would recede to just out of reach. Need – burning need – forever unquenched; the object of desire forever just out of reach. The word “tantalize” originated from his name.

Tantalus – that fickle, seldom flyable (most often disappointing) little thermal site – seems intent upon living up to its name.

You drive up to launch (Yes . . . I said “drive up” . . . on Oahu!) You walk across the beautiful grassy knoll; a babbling brook of leaves rustling in the cycles of wind moving up from Manoa valley toward the big puffy cumulus fruits hanging overhead. You feel the need – the burning need – to grapple the core of one of these plumes and, hook in place, climb the circular path that allows you to intersect Apollo’s golden chariot. Unfortunately, somehow, as you contemplate fly-ability, the wind turns a little too cross . . . just out of reach; or, as you’re setting up, the wind blows a little too strong . . . just out of reach; or right after you launch, the lift gets a little too light . . . just out of reach.

How many pilots have paced about the Pu’u Ualaka’a lookout, gazing at Diamond Head in the distance, dreaming about unpacking his/her DHV-2? How many flight suited & helmeted pilots, after 30 minutes of sweating in the south pacific sun, patiently waiting on a good cycle, wasting batteries & patience, have begrudgingly packed up her/his rig? How many wings have been pulled from trees? How many cars have been dodged on the scary little road that serves as the only bomb-out? How many DL&R officers have chased after pilots, citation in hand? How many epic flights have been just out of reach?

Oh, sure, Fireman Dave flies there all of time . . . that doesn’t mean that a mere mortal, such as myself, has the skills, talent, or sheer dumb luck needed to hear the “ooo’s & ahhh’s” of the tourists that invariably gather to watch Icarus spread his wing. I’ve been up Round Top Drive enough times to know that, Tantalus is as much a lesson in humility & a warning against arrogance as the Greek Myth after which it’s named. Ask any senior pilot on Oahu, I’ll lay serious odds that he/she has a horror story to share; and a warning.

Alex and I stared at a layer of big puffy clouds coming in from the ocean. Oh, how beautiful they looked. A few hundred feet above said layer, another layer of big puffy clouds were rushing in to meet us from over the back of the mountain: Kai & Aina converging directly over our heads; cycles of big lifty air rushing at us, interrupting the constant light breeze rustling the leaves out front, only slightly cross.

You know how it goes, you sit there discussing the situation, analyzing the variables, sizing-up potential hazards, rehashing previous disasters, retelling adventure stories of epic-flights-gone-by: You scare the doo-doo out of yourselves. This is how we talk ourselves out of doing stupid stuff; like launching a paraglider into unstable conditions a thousand feet above paraglidivorous plants, with no visible (let alone “safe”) bomb-out, under the watchful eye of curious tourists.

There are only two types of pilots that attempt to fly Tantalus: Those who possess the rare qualities of wisdom & skill and those who possess the not-so-rare qualities of arrogance & ignorance.

A few additional pilots, Berndt, Jaro, and Bob, decided to join us. I went first . . . jokes about “wind dummies” and “strange fruit” and “road kill” swirling about my frontal cortex. Nervous? Who? Me? If you’ve ever found yourself dangling beneath a canopy, searching for lifting air, the most comforting feeling in the known universe results from the sum of the audition of “BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!” coupled with the equilibrioception of “going up!” (Yes, I purposely use big, fancy, college-boy words. I spent a lot of money on my vocabulary . . . seems a shame not to share with my friends.) Since I didn’t crash into a tree or careen into a moving BMW on Round Top, my compadres began to think it might be flyable. After about 25 more minutes of watching me reinforce that notion, by turning pretty circles in the sky, Jaro joined me.

Magus: A master magician; one who has truly mastered the Art. Whether you are describing his MACPARA Magus 5 high performance cross country comp glider or the way he used it to carve his way up to 4000 feet in just a few minutes, you would be correct in describing Jaro. I wanna be like Jaro when I grow-up.

The lift got light. So, I demonstrated a spectacular “da-kine-one-almost-fly-off-the-cliff-flair-high-roll-on-the-ground-kine” top landing.

I was feeling good about the flight; successful thermal flights always make me feel good. Fireman would say it’s due to an, “Addiction to the raised dopamine and serotonin levels (feel good substances) that I get in my brain while flying, hours after flying or pretty much any time I start daydreaming about flying.” I think its because its programmed into my DNA; I am genetically predisposed to fly (i.e., I must.)

Not long after I top landed the wind picked up again. Alex and Berndt launched and made it look good again; so, I set-up for flight number two. It was an epic two-minute flight: Prefect launch; five, maybe six passes over launch; textbook top landing . . . EPIC!!

In characteristic Tantalus modus operandi, the lift shut down. All of the pilots in the air top landed to cheers and ooo’s & ahh’s.

A memorable flying day was coming to an end. Of course, we wanted more, but "more" was just out of reach. That’s when we learned that Makapu’u had 2-3 MPH blowing onshore!

Light winds at Cactus! . . . Tandem-able! . . . Now, that’s TANTALIZING!



Aloha

Bumpin' It UP!

...Or as Doug said "looks like a Nana-schoolie day". Joey, myself, Doug, Ray, visitor Jason, Scrappy, and "Jackson Hole" Brian had some west-side fun today. Joey and I hiked up first, thinking "seems a little breezy" . . . but, of course, we made our way up to low launch.

The windspeed from school side seemed a bit brisk, so we opted to wait for some more adventurous spirits to show the way. Doug came along and launched nicely into some strong, straight up, thermic action. Within 10 minutes or so, he was already reporting being up around 4000 feet! As he headed off to the North, visitor Jason launched next. He was followed by Joey, Scrappy, myself, Ray, and Brian.

Jason and Doug continued out toward the North, with Doug checking in with reports now and then: "I'm out over Makaha valley workin' the bowl" and "I'm at the end of the road thinkin' about jumpin' over to the parachuting LZ out in Mokuleia"; Jason, meanwhile, was out there chasing Doug down the range. The rest of us seemed to be content with staying in the local area. Joey and Scrappy headed to the beach. Ray followed suit and then Brian too.

I decided to land at the more traditional LZ - in the baseball field over by the school. For me, this was the strongest, bumpiest day I've flown to date. I definitely "upped" my bump tolerance today. Thanks to everyone out there for the encouragement. I really learned a lot today!

A sledder's better than hike'n down!

If one is staring at the Chatter Box, waffling between going to Nanakuli (hiking in the desert sun, fighting thorn bushes and boulders, getting shot in the face by bullet thermals, and pumping-out tip collapses) or being a responsible adult (doing household chores, running errands, taking care of children), the phrase, “Doug sent me a chart that shows the most epic lapse rate ever!” will make you point your car towards Makaha. (Alex, I hold you completely responsible for everything that follows . . . )

We all remember the day . . . I got five grand, Alex & Don & Ray & The lovely June went to Waikele; Doug went to Kaena Point & back and then to Waikele . . . the greatest day EVER!!!! This promised to be BETTER!!!!!

I was NOT going to sit around my office helping old ladies regain their independence or children learn to walk. No. I had IMPORTANT work to do; that work was going to take place at NANAKULI!!

We met at 1:00 PM. The hike was, as expected, hot, dry, exhausting, and LONG. I hate hiking Nanakuli. If you’ve ever done it, you know . . . it sucks. I, specifically said to Don, “You know, I hate hiking up Nanakuli, but I REALLY hate hiking down.”

Little did I know how prophetic I could be.

At Low Launch, I thought it might be best to hike higher (whether I liked it or not.) Don and Tim (Chicago) agreed. Alex and Ray thought otherwise. As we trudged upward, Ray and Alex set up and launched. At Middle, Don, Tim & I discussed the best launch site. The wind was coming up the spine, but was mostly “school side.” I laid out and launched. Ray had gotten very low, but fought it out like a champ. Next thing I know, Ray & Alex are 500 ft above me. I, on the other hand, was barely maintaining. For 15 minutes, I scratched back & forth; desperately seeking lift.

Then, in classic Nanakuli fashion, the thermals tricked me. There was a puff from the dump side (the Dark Side); I sniffed at it. I went UP! (A little bit) So, I crossed over (Once you cross over to the Dump Side, it will forever control your destiny.) I was going up!! It was BEAUTIFUL!! . . . BEEP, BEEP, BEEP . . . Until, I was going down. Ya see . . . after the lift ends . . . the ROTOR happens. Yes, that’s where my left wingtip started collapsing . . . over & over & over & over. I chased my wing all over the sky until it, reluctantly, decided to remain overhead. I fought my way to safety (which means I was WAY THE HECK AWAY from anything that might even resemble lift.) I fought, and fought, and fought . . . and then landed out on the dirt road. Damn it!!! I hate Nanakuli!!! (except when it’s REALLY good . . . which is almost NEVER for me.)

Alex & Ray, who were very high, inexplicably, headed to the beach. (Apparently, it was very rowdy at 1900 feet . . . if only I had had the privilege of finding out.) Tim rode a sled to the cars. I packed up. McStalker, graciously, picked me up on the dump side and returned me to my car. (Mahalo Nui Loa!)

What to do? – What to do? Alex suggested that we get some beer and hang out on the beach (which had recently been policed, removing the homeless . . . so, it felt safe.)

Alex, Ray & I sat on the beach drinking IPA & ESB (yes . . . we’re beer snobs) while everyone else spent HOURS waiting for a good cycle. I have to say . . . those two guys are fun to hang out with. If you ever get the chance . . . I recommend it.

Doug & Scrappy gave it the ol’college try, while everyone else hiked down.

I felt bad for the hikers & the sled riders. I mean . . . Hiking up Nanakuli SUCKS!!! (see above), but, hiking down Nanakuli . . . well . . . that is THE LOWEST CIRCLE OF HELL!! (see one of Alex’s previous posts.)

OK . . . tomorrow will be better. See you at the meeting.

End of blog.

Aloha

Centerfold

Eleven pilots flew in perfect tradewind conditions at Kahana today. Eight of us sauntered downrange to gaze at the pornographic splendor of the scenery around Sacred Falls. Along with Don, Czech Pete, Jon, Berndt and me, visitors Jaro, Pete Reagan and Bernie were treated to views of unabashed natural beauty. One-Eye, HillBilly and Chicago Tim held down the fort back at the Kahana ridge, joined by Berndt for his second flight. Welcome back, Bill!

Finally, The Dill - I Love This Place!

A while back, after my landing on the beach, which happened on the wrong - ocean - side of the shore break, Alex asked me to write a story on it. I was still kinda pissed off at myself for doing that (the wet landing), and there was not much to tell - I never wrote it. Well today, there is not much to tell either, but I still can't stop grinning about this evening's flights, so, sorry to bore ya'll, but here it comes.

Wasted half the day running errands and watching windlines, hoping to get airborne again somewhere. According to Alex earlier, the Dillingham wouldn't be flyable again, since it was pretty east. But, I talked to my skydiving buddy, and he said it was actually NW out there .....

Decided to go for it, despite not knowing how to get up there and going solo (Firedave, who's always up for adventure, is down with a cold and pinched nerve, and everyone else seems to always be too pessimistic, lazy to drive, lazy to hike, busy working, and/or all of the above).

The worst case, I'll find the launch, give it a shot and hike down if it's not flyable. I was also curious about the "grueling" hike the locals were talking about ;))

Windsock at the glider park was pretty limp NW, but decided to go for it anyways. With the headphones on and iPod blasting reaggae, hike went by pretty fast. Even stopped for a few minutes to talk to a hot chick that was there on a hike - I love this place.

Alex gave me great directions, but I had to call him again, after bushwhacking for a while, looking for the launch clearing - could hear his vario beeping in the background, thanks for answering buddy.

Launch is pretty tight, especially with no wind. I gave it a couple of tries anyways, then luckily some super light puffs started coming in, the windsock on the runway still limp, but now directly East, parallel with the "080" runway ...

After a few minutes, I took the cycle and "jumped off the mountain", expecting no lift, but trying not to hike down.

Well, lift was there, so were couple of gliders, ultralite trike, couple of heavy military helicopters, tow plane ... but also a couple of albatrosses and a sailboat and whales in the ocean - I love this place.

Eventually, after about an hour in the air, rocking to da rastafarai and soaring in the seabreeze, the wind direction switched to ESE (I guess some catabatic (??) influence before sunset), and I went to land.

Luckily I picked the grass strip behind the hangars, because a couple of powered hang pilots were watching my landing and came by to talk to me. They were so stoked by the whole "backpackthinlinessailinghikingupthehillsmoothlandinglaughing" thing, that they offered a ride on the trike.

So, after not so epic, but still really special and for me an awesome flight, I got to go for a refill, on an ultralight, over the ocean, into the sunset, steering it by pushing a few tubes around ;))

I love this place ...

czech peter

Rat Race and WCPC Registration this Friday

Our pals Mike and Gail are running two competitions at Woodrat Mountain this year, the annual Rat Race event from July 6-12 and the first-time West Coast PG Championships from June 8-14.

If you are at all interested in either of these events I urge you to register this Friday, February 15, when registration opens, since they tend to fill up fast. You can sign up by mail or use their website. I am going to sign up for the Rat Race again this year - any other Hawaii Monkeys interested? And I am also hoping I can make it to the Nationals in the Owens Valley this fall.

Because . . . you have a good answer!!!

Aloha folks! Since last year I've been working on a new project called "Because..." that is finally live on the web @ www.flyozone.com/because.

"Because..." is based on a simple question: why do you fly?

I know all of you have a good answer, I have seen you guys working fast to get at least 5 minutes in the air, hiking up three times per day to get more of that, it's never enough, so I don't think it will be too hard for you to share your answer.

This contest will be on for three month. Our answer (Ozone team) to this question will be revealed in "Because…" the movie that will be downloadable on our site starting on May 15, 2008.

Guys, this is the first invitation I have done so far, I'm starting from the base camp, I'm looking forward to getting your answers. By the way, check out the trailer - the music was made here on the island by Tempo Valley (click the icon in the bottom to know more about them, they are just awesome). I really appreciate if you could share this info with your contacts, friends and anyone you think has an answer for this question.

I forgot to mention the main thing: we have a lot of good prizes to give away. Anything else you want to know, please don't hesitate to contact me: jorgeatramiz@gmail.com.

Mahalo for your support,

Jorge

Because... created by Jorge Atramiz & Herminio Cordido with the Ozone Team
Music By Tempo Valley (www.tempovalley.com)

Writers on the Storm...bum...bum, bum, bum, bum

The weather has been terrible for weeks . . . months really: Rain; Wind; Rain & Wind; Wind & Rain. Needless to say (but, I’ll say it anyway), there has been VERY little flying on Oahu as of late. What little bit there has been, has not been done by me. Additionally, given the poor weather, I have been rather sloth-like; no exercise, except for twelve-ounce curls. That all changed today.

At 0735 hrs, the NWS’ readings were not promising. But, I was hopeful. By 1000 hrs, the Kahana faithful were already preparing to hike up. Don & I arrived about the same time. There were already a couple of gliders in the air and a few pilots on various launches; High, Middle, Low. “It’s blowing really north,” we were informed, “If it were me, I’d go to the North Launch.” We didn’t even check the conditions at the LZ; we just headed for the North Launch trailhead.

Mud. Slippery, slimery mud: the result of weeks of rain . . . months really. The trail to North Launch was exhausting; one step forward, two slips back. My lack of exercise reared its ugly head as I huffed & puffed and dragged my weary butt up the side of the mountain; watching Don disappear into the forest. By the time I reached the lower launch, Alex had top landed and Don was setting up. The wind was light and NOT north. In fact, the lovely June was radioing from the beach, “It’s light and 70 degrees on the beach. Why are you dumb asses on North Launch?” (That may not have been her exact words.)

After a nice light-wind launch by Alex, I felt a bit of a breeze building. You know how, at the middle launch on the north ridge, if you try to launch your glider in light wind and you have a snag and your wing comes up cock-eyed and, after you fix it, you have to run really really fast & hard in order to get flying speed, but you don’t really have much room before you crash into a bunch of trees, but you decide to run anyway . . . well . . . Don said I looked like a bowling ball crashing into a bunch of pins.

The trees pulled me out of my harness and I was hanging by my . . . uh . . . well . . . it was a fairly uncomfortable flying configuration. After about five minutes of scratch & sniff, I finally got enough altitude to safely adjust my position and my . . . uh . . . flight suit.

Above the rhino horn, lift was abundant; as were the clouds. Everyone skyed out. Then, the rain came. I was in the back of the valley, watching a squall that promised to moisten all of our skins. Several pilots were discussing plans of action: Top land and hide in a spider-hole; head to the beach and ball up wings; fly around the squall; fly through the squall.

I was very high and gaining altitude. So, I headed to the ocean. Funny thing about clouds . . . they suck your wing upwards. I was very, very high when I reached the road: Rain pelting me in the face; but, I had a good tack on Crouching Lion. Hmmm . . . cross the bay in a deluge or run back & top-land . . . decisions, decision, decisions. I reached the road with about a grand of atmosphere between me and the pavement; clouds pissing on my wing like a soldier on a three-day pass during Oktoberfest. The lift at Crouching Lion was LIGHT.

When I say, “LIGHT,” I mean . . . you know how, when you’re over at Crouching Lion and your wing is NOT sodden with fifty pounds of rainwater and there is very little lift and you wonder, “Should I continue to scratch & sniff on this side of the bay or head back to the safety of the LZ?” and you say, “What could possibly go wrong?” and you find out that NOT finding lift will cause you to get too low and when you try to head back to the LZ and you know you are not going to make it and you crash into the fish pond and have to drag your wing out of the Pacific Ocean . . . that sucks.

Not wanting to do that (again), I headed back . . . back through the squall . . . as if I weren’t wet enough already. Very wet paragliders land (fall out of the sky) very differently than dry, crisp paragliders. Let’s just say, I had 1/3 of a good flight (not so perfect launch, wonderful -- though quite wet -- flight, not so perfect landing.) After kiting my wing dry, Berndt suggested we fly again.

Hiking twice . . . did I mention I’ve neglected to exercise lately? I huffed and puffed my way to Low Launch and managed to launch like a pilot who knows how to fly paragliders. Everyone in the air was already heading downrange. I benched up and took a hard left turn. There were HUGE squalls heading right for us. People were heading for LZs all over the place. I landed at Hau’ula with Alex, Scrappy, Berndt, and the lovely June. I was the last to land. Apparently, there were several . . . uh . . . "exciting" landings preceding my arrival. My landing was “OK,” but, not “perfect;” 2/3 of a good flight . . . good launch, good flight, marginal landing.

Back at the LZ, with beer! Chef Dorothy Colby treated a bunch of smelly, tired, beer-drinking PG pilots to a WONDERFUL buffet of beautiful cheeses, breads, peppers, veggies, and olives. We felt as if we’d been transported away from our island paradise to a valley in the French countryside. All praise to Chef Colby!!

Nightshift and the lovely June decided to hike up. Don suggested that we do the same. So . . . there I was, huffing & puffing as I made my way up the mountainside for the third time. (Did I mention that I’ve not been exercising much lately?!) We were running out of daylight. There was a squall coming in. Two scratch & sniffers (Nightshift & the lovely June) were already heading for the beach. I was the third to launch. Of course, the moment I launched, the big, grey cloud overhead pissed all over me. I managed to get high, fly through the squall, and stay aloft for 35 minutes before darkness threatened to make packing-up difficult. This was 3/3 of a good flight . . . good launch; good flight; and good landing. I guess the third time really is the charm.

Pro Bowl tomorrow!!
Aloha

Riding the Storm Out

Today brought choke pilots out of the woodwork to Kahana. The early arrival, Sub Steve, reported some squally conditions, but the omens were good and the wind gods were on our side this time. By the time McStalker arrived the sun was just breaking out and the conditions were looking good.

Steve, McStalker & me headed up the trail first followed shortly by Joey and Berndt. Alex and Scrappy weren't far behind. A little later Suicide Peter, Czech Peter, Sandy, Don, & Airborne Ken all made their appearances. Sub Steve got off high launch after a slight disagreement with one of the roots, a little help from your friends is always appreciated. As Berndt was setting up Alex got off from low launch. Berndt finally got a good "low" cycle to get off high launch and soon reported not much lift, even though the wind was a bit spicy. That made some of us come to the conclusion that the wind had shifted to the North. So a few of the later arrivals hiked up the North ridge to give that a try.

In the meantime Alex made his first of at least a couple top landings over on the north ridge, and Scrappy took off out of mid launch and then had to top land soon thereafter. A few minutes later I made my escape from high launch, and that's when I stopped keeping track of who was launching from where when. The first part of our "session" was wonderful, smooth air, with as many as nine pilots airborne at the same time. And then came the squall, which McStalker quantified as "transparent". So while Alex and Scrappy top landed to wait it out the "Storm Riders", Berndt, Suicide Pete (partial credit) Jeff, Steve, Joey, & me, all hung out with the idea that the squall would pass quickly.

Needless to say our judgment was a bit off, so we all ended up flying around in the rain for 20-30 minutes and got pretty wet. After that of course we all had to stay aloft to try to dry ourselves out. After we landed, Nightshift dropped in, with hopes of getting an early flight (for him). There was an extravagant picnic table party feast thanks to Dorothy, with bread, cheese, olives, fruit, and of course beer. And a few people went up for a late try. Nightshift, Sandy, Berndt, Czech Pete, Don. When I left Czech Pete and Don were still up on launch.

Thanks to Don for the article title.

Second Chance

After a massive squall put a damper on our Lanikai flying plans yesterday, we returned today to fly our hearts out in perfect conditions. Quentin, Don and I got an early start, joined later for first Lanikai flights by visitor "Marathon" Bernie, Brian, Czech Peter, One-eye Jim and Sony, before a massive squall finally shut things down later in the afternoon.

CG Helo at Makapuu Lighthouse on Wed, Feb 6th

I just got a note from the flight safety officer at the US Coast Guard Air Station at Barbers Point (he was one of the folks at the Oahu Safety Meeting last August). He wrote to inform us that the Coast Guard will be conducting helicopter operations around Makapuu Lighthouse on Wednesday, February 6th. He mentioned that the last time they did the training, they had to maneuver around a glider, which at times impeded the training. He asks that we please give them a reasonable amount of room to maneuver in this area. Please pass the word to anyone who might be thinking of flying Makapuu on Wednesday. Thanks!

Kealakekua Light Wind Clinic

This weekend, four of us jetted over to Kealakekua, the Big Island's premier thermal site, for a brief respite from the wet and windy weather on Oahu. Jim, Joey, visitor Tonya from Vancouver and I stayed at the Ah Paradise B&B and flew two days in light overcast conditions. The second day was still overcast, but marginally more thermic than the first day. Several pilots managed to get above launch for a while, and we all made solid efforts trying to hook those wily thermals and reel them in. More than anything, it was just a rare pleasure to hang out with the Big Island boys and share their world class site. Thanks to Charlie, Greg, James, Scottie, Neil and Gene for their aloha and for all the rides to launch.

Sled City

Reporting in from the Big Island mission: Jim, Joey, Alex and Tonya flew 11 flights and milked light lift under an overcast sky. Light wind launches and zero wind landings proved challenging for even the most experienced ridge soarers, as our battle wounds will attest. Tomorrow is supposed to be a better thermal day. We don't care - at least we're flying!