L.A.U.N.C.H.

Many years ago, I was hanging out at Kahana, on Low Launch, with Ken Berry; wind whipping at my long curly ponytail. (Anyone got a picture of me with long hair? I’d LOVE to see it!) Ken was a great pilot, even then. I was a wild-eyed P-2 hoping to learn whatever he would teach me.

Those of you that know Ken would probably attest to the fact that he is an intelligent, yet, rather quiet, private person; not prone to flowery locutions. So when he speaks, it’s because he has something important to say; one would do well to pay heed. That day he gifted me a golden nugget that has forever enriched my free flight career.

Dear reader, I will now share this precious stone with you.

Your preflight check is, arguably, the most important phase of your flight. If you’ve ever left the ground and discovered the sudden strangling sensation of your chest strap squeezing your throat; if you’ve ever looked-up and found one of your risers twisted in its carabineer; if you’ve ever been in very light lift, waiting for a nonexistent “Beep Beep Beep;” if you’ve ever found yourself parked (or flying backwards) with no speed bar; if you’ve ever been waist-deep in mud, an unfriendly/annoyed looking bull staring you down, with no way to contact your buddies to ask for help; if you are simply NOT perfect, you should read on . . .

Acronym: a word formed by the initial letters of a phrase or title.

We use acronyms all of the time: L&V, L/D, N/NE, USHPA, etc.

Here is the best one you can ever learn: “L.A.U.N.C.H.”

L: Leg Straps – “Are my leg straps buckled?”
A: A’s on top – “Are my risers connected appropriately?”
U: Undo speed system – “Is my speed bar still stowed away?”
N: Network – “The electronic 'Network.' Is my radio, vario, cell phone, MP3 player, etc. switched on?”
C: Chest Strap – “Is my chest strap (and all other buckles) buckled?”
H: Hope & Pray – “Have I made things right with God? . . . just in case.”

This simple preflight checklist will help to ensure that you are strapped in, risers connected, radio has batteries; etc.; thus, increasing your odds of a safe launch, great flight, and perfect landing.

To be fair to Ken, I have modified the acronym slightly. “Hope & Pray” is my mnemonic device. I say a little prayer and beg forgiveness of any offense I may have caused. BECAUSE . . . In the unfortunate event that, during any phase of my flight, I find myself speaking to Saint Peter, I’d like him to open up the Pearly Gates for me . . . I’m just say’n.

The original “H” was “Heeners.” Those of you who do not remember Reaper’s dog “Heeners” cannot possibly understand why this fat old puppy was so important in Ken’s preflight ritual. Those who do remember Heeners are probably laughing your asses off. (Pete may be wiping away a tear.) You see, Heeners was a great dog. Heeners loved to play fetch. Heeners loved food. Heeners loved the ocean. Heeners LOVED paragliders. Heeners would chase after any wing that moved; bite the fabric; roll around in the lines; and generally wreak havoc on any and all unsuspecting paraglider pilots. Therefore, Ken wanted to make damned sure that, while he was tied to thirty-one square meters of SkyTex, Heeners was tied to a tree.

After many years of using this acronym, I have come to rely upon it. It is a great habit to add to your own ritual. It ALMOST always works. (We can call that last sentence “foreshadowing.”)

Sometimes, even such a masterful device as “L.A.U.N.C.H.” needs to be re-engineered.

Perhaps, I’ll blame it on the “Purple Haze” of vog that had constricted my chest, scratched my throat, burned my eyes, and, in general, “put a spell on me” . . .

Perhaps, I was just in a huge hurry; trying to get out of Manic Depression before the wind speed increased from “Merely Ridiculous” to “Absolutely Ridiculous” . . .

Perhaps, it was the disconcerting sight of Alex fighting out a less than perfect launch. (You know how seldom that happens) . . .

Perhaps, I was just looking forward to some in-flight posing for the hundred or so camera-laden tourists that had gathered; "Suicide Shaka Pics" on refigerators from Illinois to Istanbul!

Regardless . . . for some otherwise unfathomable reason . . . I found myself thirty feet off of the deck doing my best possible Dave Goto impression!

That’s right . . . I launched sans helmet!

Ooops!

So . . . there I was, wind in my face (and both ears and the top of my head), looking back at my beloved 4Flight full-face helmet baking in the sun. Luckily, Czech Pete was there to rescue it; no sense landing prematurely. (Mahalo Bra!)

I managed to eek out a good flight in very weird conditions. It took thirty minutes to get to Waimanalo. Who’d a thought that Manic’s to the hang glider launch would be a technical X-C?

I landed near the heiau without bumping my noggin. So, I guess I got lucky.

I think, from now on, I should change the mnemonic:

L: Leg Straps
A: A’s on top
U: Undo speed system
N: Network
C: Chest Strap
H: HELMET!!!!!

Aloha

Qu'est-ce qui s'est passé?

So it has been over two months since I had an unplanned intimate encounter with Kam highway in front of Sea Life Park - enough procrastinating on the story!

What I remember about the crash doesn't amount to much, trauma always seems to have strange effects on one's memory of the event, so most of it just seems like a sequence of flashbacks to a bad dream.

Feb 22 was a L&V day on Oahu, and I had easily launched into maybe 10 mph wind at the cactus launch. There was quite a bit more lift than I expected on such a light day, but I remember thinking that it was some of the smoothest air I have ever flown in. No "rabbit s**t" anywhere, even those places along the cliffs that usually bounce you skyward were smooth as butter only noticeable by the sound of the vario. This made for some very nice flying from the lighthouse all the way around the corner halfway to green walls. It was very similar to flying "glass off" or "magic air" just before sunset at a mainland thermal site.

After about a hour of boating around it was starting to get dark and I discovered a few (light) bumps, over flat island. I then turned around to come in for a landing after a few short spirals. As I crossed over the beach at the north end of the LZ I got hit with a moderate bump that picked me up some 30 feet. Where the heck did that come from!*#? This messed up the glide on my approach so I made some S turns to get back on track but got at least one more bump to where the turns were getting steeper and it was hard to tell what was lift and what was just retained energy in the wing.

By this time I had angled inland over Sea Life Park for the last turn and was on glide to the LZ, straight into the wind, which was straight onshore at this point. Then I hit some sink, which then turned into free-fall. I had no idea what the wing was doing since I was staring in horror at the road rushing up at me, with everything but the spot directly below me a blur. I have experienced dynamic stalls, b-line stalls, asymmetrics, and parachutal stall, but this felt like none of those, more like my wing had just vanished, or like diving off cliffs into the ocean. I hit going straight down, I remember a loud slap as my Tevas hit the pavement, and my "shock absorbers" folding like they weren't even there, my butt hit my heels and the ground, and then rolling over.

I'm sure other pilots who there have a much better picture of what was going on than I do. It would be expedient and ego-saving to use rowdy conditions at the LZ as a convenient scapegoat, but that just doesn't cut the mustard if you view the truth as immutable. Every inland site in the western US that I have ever flown has "active" LZs, some violently so, and I've learned to deal with those, so I can't pass it off to inexperience either. I have had plenty of time to think about that day - staring at the ceiling loses its thrill very quickly, and have come to a very different conclusion as to what went wrong.

The real culprit here was the fact that I was not giving flying my undivided attention - flying on autopilot. What is that? It's like driving down the road thinking of something else (aka daydreaming) or listening to the radio or yakking on the cell phone or yakking with a passenger, etc. etc. I know I've done some of this, on occasion "waking up" wondering where I was and wondering who was driving since the last place I remembered being. I know anybody reading this has also done this, and gotten away with it - most of the time. Some may even be arrogant enough to say they are a skilled enough driver to make it OK.

True, experience does have some relevance: The more times you have dealt with some situation in the past, the more likely your "autopilot" can deal with it when it unexpectedly pops up again, but there will always be those things that happen which you are not prepared for, and for which you need 100% of your brain focused on the problem at hand. Unfortunately, a brain that is elsewhere does not come to attention instantly, and merde happens. Therefore it is never OK to drive on "autopilot", and certainly not to paraglide like that. Eighteen years and about 1000 hours of airtime may sound like a fair bit of experience, but it's only a small fraction of the time or experience most people have driving automobiles, and nowhere near enough time to have much of an ingrained response in our "flying autopilot".

For about 5 years I commuted some 20 miles each way across LA to work by motorcycle - whitelining (cutting between lanes on the freeway) without a scratch. This was partly due to luck, but mostly because I NEVER rode on "autopilot", always fully focused on everything around me, anticipating what the cars were going to do before their drivers even knew what they were going to do. Its just too scary and fast to do anything less.

I treated paragliding the same way, there is just too much going on to do otherwise, and I have always felt some anxiety about every landing I have ever done. Every landing has always been: Am I too high? Do I need to make one more S turn? What if I hit sink? What will I do if I get popped and overshoot? Am I too close to those trees? Man, that LZ looks tiny from up here! I'm going too fast! and so on and so on.

Yet on Feb 22, I was not thinking about my landing, in fact it seemed like a forgone conclusion while I was still in the air. As a result, my mind was fixated on the spot I wanted to land on the LZ, landing down at the bottom of the LZ or in the naupaka covered dunes didn't even enter my mind, nor did I think about how much I disliked approaching from over Sea Life Park as I had done a few times before in northerly winds.

A couple of things led to this inappropriate mindset. Earlier that day I had had a glorious first flight at Tantalus, climbing thermals and going way back in Manoa, even considering the Pali before chickening out and coming back to top land. After an awesome flight like that I was feeling a bit full of myself - never a good thing, and Makapuu's smooth air made it seem like a no-brainer.

Not.

For my transgression, I was penalized with a broken back: a damaged T12 vertebrae, and a crushed L4 vertebrae which squished out rearwards compressing the mares tail (nerves that service the legs and hip area). This was repaired by surgically removing the back of that vertebrae, carving away the sqished-out bone, and then bridging across the crushed vertebrae to L3 and L5 with some hardware.

Although a couple of nerves were ripped out completely, I am VERY fortunate not to have lost everything below my waist. A big scab on my chin that I discovered a week later indicates I hit that on something as well, but I don't remember that at all, nor did I feel any pain there.

The severity of the back injury would have been lessened by a harness with better back protection as I was using an old SupAir from the days when they did not have model names and did not come with any padding. I had purchased a 20cm foam pad that was sold as an accessory, but it altered the seating position of the harness to such an awkward state that I eschewed its use. The reserve was between me and the ground, but it is not very compressible.

The moral of the story is: Give flying your undivided attention: No daydreaming, jamming to your ipod, fixating on the scenery on the beach below, etc. Even having you eye glued to the vario, gps, or camera viewfinder is distracting you from something and increasing your risk more that you may realize. And don't commit the ultimate stupidity, landing on autopilot. There is no ILS for paragliders, much less an automated landing system.

In search of perfect conditions

We enjoyed two great flying sessions at two very different sites today. As the trades started to fill back in and blow away the vog, the wind strength happened to fall into that narrow margin between not too light for Kahana and not too strong for Makapuu.

It was fun seeing lots of folks flying in the brisk conditions at Makapuu. Jorge and Ray on tandems, Steve, Mcstalker, Nick, Jim, Jetflap, Dave, Frank, Russell, Cliff, and Alan H., to name a few. Thanks to Jetflap for the advice to use Crazys launch - there was certainly tons of nice lift down there. I hope I didn't forget to mention One-eye Jim. He showed us it was possible to punch through to the east side of the lighthouse, but it was definitely a challenge to pick the right line and power through to where the lift was clean and strong.

Conditions at Makapuu were great for launching low and buzzing the tourists, getting up fast and throwing down tricks on small wings. Dave was in rare form on his Morpheus. But some of us who were flying normal sized wings were feeling a bit parked, and soon decided to cut our flights short to head out to Kahana where the sensors promised lighter conditions: the kind where you can comfortably make turns close to the top of the ridge, do some top-landings, and maybe even take a trip downrange. For all I know, the guys started doing all that stuff at Makapuu after we left: "Let's wait until those weenies head to Kahana and then we'll really start having some fun!" I hope everyone had all the fun they could wish for!

So Jeff, Steve and I left for the greener pastures of Kahana, to be joined by Ginny and Scrappy, and much later, by Czech Pete. I spent some time with Dorothy at her parents' house before coming back to check on the launch progress. It was definitely very light out there - not the right conditions for aerobatics on small wings.

As I arrived, Steve had already flown - I heard that he had masterfully plowed through the bushes below mid launch, only to find himself too low in the light conditions to get up - he hiked back up with me but then wasn't feeling well, and had to hike down again. Hope you're feeling better now, Steve!

Scrappy scratched his way up successfully and flew for a while, but then had to land early to meet some friends.

Jeff made a series of experimental launches, toplanding each time right back at launch, before picking a cycle strong enough to get him up.

I launched soon after, and joined Jeff above the ridge, where we dodged a bunch of huge low anvil shaped cumulus clouds that were lumbering over the bay in the very easterly light drift.

Ginny struggled with the demanding launch behavior of her new Mac Eden 3, and also decided to hike down after a while, promising to do some more kiting.

I toplanded (too fast) once while Ginny was still up there, and relaunched just as a perfect blue corridor opened up to point the way downrange for me and Jeff. We headed downrange with Jeff's family chasing for retrieve.

I was feeling very relaxed and nonchalant about the trip, and ended up leaving for each transition lower than I ever have before - I left Kahana with 1450 feet, and left Punaluu with 1200. Because of this I ended up working the last hill just before Pounders for a change, and I noticed two cute little white goats down there, just like the ones at Makapuu. It was fun to make a new challenge out of a familiar XC trip. Conditions were light and easterly with some nice thermals mixed into the ridge lift. And did I mention the towering clouds overhead?

Jeff later remarked that he used to be worried about the thermals at the front of the Punaluu ridge, but after his recent flights at Nanakuli he found today's Punaluu thermals to be quite gentle and easy to work. Jen picked us up at Pounders, and on our way back to Kahana we saw Czech Pete headed downrange on a solo mission, so I grabbed my car and found him just as he was landing at Hauula Beach Park.

What a fun day! Thanks again to Jen for the retrieve.

Purple Haze

Many hearty pilots braved the toxic fumes spewing from the Big Island today, taking to the air and surfing the volcanic haze above two sites on Oahu. Jeff led the charge at Nanakuli, while Jetflap and Frank got things started at Makapuu.

Purple haze, all in my brain
Lately things just don't seem the same
Actin' funny, but I don't know why
'Scuse me, while I kiss the sky

Conditions at Makapuu varied quite a bit throughout the day, starting out with a nice light north flow which favored sweet launches and toplandings at Manics for the early birds, and later veering to a more easterly direction to allow launches from Cactus for the late shift.

Purple haze all around
Don't know if I'm comin' up or down
Am I happy or in misery?
What ever it is, that girl put a spell on me

The haze seemed to vary in intensity depending on wind direction and cloud cover. At one point when it was really thick, visibility was down to half a mile or so, and I felt like I might as well have been flying deep in a cloud, or at night. (Of course I am just imagining what those conditions might be like - it would be illegal, crazy and dangerous to fly in clouds or at night). I finally had to land because I was becoming nauseated, either from breathing the fumes or from the lack of horizon reference. Oog!

I got to fly with Jeff, Frank, Jorge, Suicide Pete, Nick, Reaper and Dave. Cliff, Russell, and Nightshift were launching as I left, and Sandy and Navy Don showed up even later. Ray and Jon stopped by but decided to wait for another chance. Great to see everyone out there.

West Maui Thermaling (Paraexploring Maui Part II)

On Thursday April 24th, four Maui pilots (Zack, Brian, Abhay, and myself), hiked all the way from the Lahainaluna school to go fly the L. Since we were 4WD challenged that afternoon, we hiked the entire distance on foot: we started out on the dusty old canehaul roads, then onto a reasonable switchback trail, and next a pigtrail, until we were so overcome with summit fever--or rather, just plain having lost the trail-- that we blazed straight up through the scratchy green hell!

So after an hour and a half of slogging it out and leaving a trail of blood, (Are you sure this is any faster, Zack?), we finally summited the fabled L! And thankfully we were greeted by decent thermic cycles, although slightly more northerly than a typical good L day.

Now I had heard the warnings from veteran Lahaina pilots before: don't fly the L on a light and variable day, only light tradewind days! But the cloud deck looked high and inviting, and we were determined after the mad scramble uphill: primed and ready for battle!

Dexter (King of the Hill) had mentioned to me previously that on light and variable days, the cycles tend to have a northerly component, which is what I've observed at Ukumehame, another West Maui flying site I've been pioneering (more on that below). So he wasn't too keen on taking part in the hike up and what could easily turn into a hike back down in twilight...

On a true light tradewind day, with Kahului reporting a solid NE flow no stronger than 18 mph, the L sits in a thermic bubble, with the tradewind shearline visible out on the water of the Pailolo channel near Ka'anapali. On those days the thermic cycles will usually come perfectly straight in.

Anyway, there we were, and it was 3pm and the sky looked like it was only going to get darker and shut us down. So I hastily called the Kapalua airport. They've heard a bunch from me in the past months, so I knew the drill:

Hello, Kapalua Tower, this is JT.

Uh, yeah, hello this is Aaron [again], I'm a paragliding pilot [crazy bagger], and I'm with 3 other paragliding pilots [oh jeez], and we're gonna be flying at the L and possibly all the way down to Olowalu and Ukumehame ridges [thinking very positively there] ... launching in about 10 minutes or so and flying all afternoon [yeah right] ... so if you could please alert all the helicopter tours that we'll be up there [don't rotor them please!] that would be much appreciated.

OK. Will do. Good luck.

I set up first and kited my wing in a decent cycle, then got popped as I spun around, and I crabbed out to the frontside in buoyant lift. I turned right and spent the next few minutes scratching along the north face overlooking a deep gulch. Eventually I was high enough to start making 360s as I rode the elevator up and behind launch.

Back in the saddle again! I must say the thermals over the L are nice and organized once you're high enough. I was hitting 400-600'/min up with ample space to turn compared to the nebulous thermals of Polipoli!

As I was ascending I watched Zack take off and then Abhay, and finally Brian (who was an L virgin!) But once at cloudbase, about 4000' that afternoon, I wasn't sticking around for the mini-gaggle. I had a mission! You see, I secretly wanted the general flow to be out of the north, and I hadn't let on much to my companions about the general warning about flying the L on l+v days. I was hoping it was a soft and malleable rule, not a hard set-in-stone one. And as luck would have it that afternoon I found myself high above Lahaina heading south on an XC attempt.

Now it would probably benefit to check out a general map of the flight.

The previous day, April 23rd--the beginning of the most recent light and variable winds on Maui--I had flown the Ukumehame ridge. I've been hiking up and pioneering a launch there for a few months now, and so far have not had any bomb-out flights.

The ridge faces the incoming-but-slightly-northerly winds that we get on the l+v days and it had delivered multiple hour+ flights for me! But I had one small problem: XC options from there are not very good. Heading north, you would need to cross the Ukumehame valley which seems to be anywhere from a half to a full mile wide depending on how you measure it. With a stiff headwind and a generally lower cloudbase at this ridge, and with sinking air in the valley, I have not been successful in striking out to the north.

Heading south from Ukumehame ridge, you run out of island! Heading southeast toward Ma'alaea town might be doable, but I'll need to study the aeronautical sectional charts a little closer to make sure I'm not violating Kahului (OGG) Class C airspace.

So my XC goal was to make it back to my truck, parked at the Ukumehame wayside park just off the highway and easily reachable on glide...from Ukumehame ridge launch! If I wanted to reach my truck from the L, I'd need to find lift along the way...

Leaving the L, everything was going well! My GPS showed a range of 25-35 mph, so I had a good tailwind and I was still getting plenty of lift as I headed across the gulches enroute to my first waypoint behind Laniuopoko. I was hoping to find some lift there.

As you can see from the general map, there are quite a few ridges and valleys along the route. The glide in between ridges was generally smooth, but punctuated by areas of sink and turbulence. Luckily my flight plan was working, since the next big thermal I found and turned in was coming off the ridges behind Laniuopoko. The core was a decent 800'/min+ up and was the biggest I had hit so far.

I turned hard and kept myself winging around the core until I was back up to cloudbase. It didn't take long. Then back on glide. I was hitting some decent sink as I approached the ridges behind Olowalu, my next waypoint, just before the Ukumehame valley. I was again hoping to find something buoyant to take me back up to the cloud deck before I was forced to flee toward the coast and land short of goal.

Then, all of a sudden, my wing got yanked hard as my vario went almost instantly from sink alarm to the most urgent beeping I have ever heard while flying on Maui! It was, after verifying when I was safely on the ground, almost 1200'/min up!

I was gripped by a ragged turbulent thermal with a very hard core, and I turned to play with it, taking it back up to the clouds, concentrating solely on staying nicely underneath my wing! I was just playing my part as the marionette on a string while the churning atmosphere lead the chaotic dance...

I kept getting boxed around for quite a distance after leaving this rowdy thermal. Finally, when I was back on glide high over Ukumehame valley with my goal in site, and familiar terrain beneath me, I let myself relax. And of course this is when I got whacked: I took a little asymmetric collapse in some random turbulence half way across the valley. But I just leaned to the good side and it popped out just fine, thank you DHV 1-2! I lingered for a bit in the lift along Ukumehame ridge, before realizing how tired I was and that I should probably quit while I was ahead!

My landing in the big field alongside the highway where my truck was parked was, thankfully, uneventful, except for the barrage of car horns as I helped do my part to stall the afternoon traffic!

Now that I was safely on the ground, just a spitting distance from my truck, I checked my phone to see that Abhay had called me. I called back to find him hiking out of the gulch on the North side of the L. He had an adventure of his own, thermalling above the L, but then reporting problems with his vario (possibly your cell phone too close?) and finding himself scratching low and then lower until the good options ran out. He was hiking out after putting in at a very tight sandy streambed wash. OK, you're all good? No keawe tree nightmare aborts? No giant pigs snarling at you? Good! Now to call Zack...

Zack had done some XC himself and had made it to the beach at Olowalu and then hitched a ride back to the regular Lahaina LZ. And Brian, no longer an L virgin, was still boating around at cloudbase above the L waiting for the fat lady to sing or something, outflying all the veterans that day!

All in all, it was an epic day of thermaling and XC over here! And, in summary, light and variable days at the L are reasonably do-able. And they could be made even easier with a bit of launchsite maintenance; like, say, having someone lug up a chainsaw to clear weed trees on the north side!

Aloha!

...

NOTES: the picture(s) were not taken on the day in question, sorry for the false advertising! However they depict a previous aborted XC attempt from awhile back and give a good view of what the flight is like. Check here for some crappy quality video of my recent Ukumehame flights!

2009 USHPA Calendar Photo Request

As chapter of the year we should submit a few pics and hope to make the 2009 calendar. Here is how:

SEND IN YOUR PHOTOS FOR THE 2009 CALENDAR!

PHOTO SUBMISSIONS DEADLINE – MAY 31st

Please send us your horizontal-format digital photos or 35mm slides as candidates for the 2009 calendar project. Pull those flying shots that deserve consideration for next years calendars! Since our calendars are printed large format at high resolution, we prefer slides for the best possible reproduction, but high resolution digital submissions are accepted as well. (Pixel specs outlined below)

PHOTO SUBMISSION GUIDELINES

Please be aware that some cropping is required due to the proportion of the printed calendar and bleed requirements.

Submit horizontal photos in slide or digital format. Digital photos should be a MINIMUM of 3120 W x 2400 H (7.5 mega pixels), although 3900 W x 3000 H pixels (11.7 mega pixels) is preferred. Submit unaltered photos. Do not resize or change photo. We will make appropriate adjustments to the photos for calendar use. Only submit photos taken after January 2006.

Each submission MUST INCLUDE:

Signed contributor agreement (1 per photographer)

Each photo MUST INCLUDE:

A submission form with the following: photographer’s name, mailing address, phone and email address. AND a photo caption, location, site name, pilot name, wing maker & model.

Submission info & forms are found here.

If possible, please submit digital photos and caption information on CD or DVD to:

USHPA 2009 Calendar
ATTN: Martin Palmaz
PO Box 1330
Colorado Springs, CO 80901-1330

Please inform me directly of calendar submissions through FTP, so that I am aware of your entries on the server. Photos that are not used for the calendar will be forwarded for potential use in the magazine.

All contributors will receive confirmation of receipt and slides will be returned upon completion of the project. Digital submissions will not be returned.

Looking forward to seeing your submissions!

Regards,

Martin Palmaz, Business Manager
United States Hang Gliding & Paragliding Association
Tel : 719-632-8300 / 800-616-6888 (8 a.m. - 5 p.m. MST) -7 GMT
Fax : 719-632-6417

US Mail:
PO Box 1330
Colorado Springs, CO 80901-1330

UPS or FEDEX:
1685 W Uintah ST
Colorado Springs, CO 80904

TOP SECRET - Nightshift Wayne's Birthday tonight

Formagio's restaurant at 8:30 pm tonight (Thursday) - next to Aaron's dive shop & Kailua Post office in Kailua. Also across from Starbucks ! Shhh... hehe

RSVP here so we can make reservations for all the pilots and family?

PS. This place ROCKS. Great food, great atmosphere...

Paraexploring Maui: Lipoa Ridge

This past weekend, Saturday the 5th of April, I ventured out to a small ocean ridge on West Maui accommodating a rare north wind. It was the second time at a site I've been pioneering. On this island, at least, when we get the rare day of non-nuking trade winds, this pilot sits up and takes notice, and then goes paraexploring...

OK, so to put a bit of a damper on your anticipation it's not at all like the world-class Ko'olau range that produces state records and epic freestyle flying conditions. But given the dearth of ridge options on Maui and the prevalence of nuking wind days, we'll take what we can get!

The ridge is near Lipoa Point and can probably accommodate a wind direction of NNW through NNE, so basically it's flyable on the same post-frontal conditions that allow O'ahu pilots to fly Dillingham. The Lipoa Ridge is about 70' MSL and has a reasonable beach bailout zone off to the East side (if ya ain't gettin' it!) However directly below launch is giant boulders and pounding surf, kinda like the Makapu'u Crazy Man launch.


View Larger Map

In addition to the beach LZ, there are a few toplanding options, with nothing too tricky for you Kahana jockeys! And behind Lipoa Ridge is basically acres of flat grassy meadows and pineapple fields, so the turn-n-burn bailout option is available. This is an important consideration on Maui, where it seems the wind can pick up very quickly and violently while you're not paying attention!

The launches are all accessible with a short walk from the highway, but are nicely secluded, so you can set up and go without attracting too much attention until airborn. They resemble Kahana in terms of launch difficulty and could of course be improved a bit. I even forward launched at one point because I was having difficulty hefting my wing up into the smooth stream through the dead air near the ground!

Flashback: the first time I flew the ridge in December I had set up in an obvious party spot with plenty of broken beer bottle evidence that could put a snag in wing or pilot! And as Murphy would have it, that's exactly what happened to me then! Focusing on keeping my wing above me after a reverse inflation, I hardly noticed the "scrape" after tripping on the turn around. Got up into the buoyant air, looked down, and was surprised to see a deep gash in my leg and blood trickling into my boots!

Needless to say after a couple of passes in butter lift, I realized I had to land and continue the pioneering another day... As luck would have it I was heading out to O'ahu the very next day, so I needed to get myself patched up for the flying over there. So now you know why I was sporting a nasty wound last time I saw you!

Well that was then. And now, for obvious reasons, I avoided the party place and set up in a different spot: a tight grassy alley framed by ironwood trees and facing the incoming breeze. After a bit of site maintenance: twig cutting, Lantana shrub removal, I was ready!

OK, reverse inflation through the dead and rotoring ground air, until my wing is high enough and getting a solid grip on the breeze... Turn and moonwalk to the void and...

beep, beep, beep!

Right turn toward the beach bailout, just in case... Vario is still chirping happily... Now above the ridge and starting to attract attention from the tourist vehicles... It's all good!

I played it fairly conservative in terms of not going out to do some XC ridge. I stayed within glide distance of the beach. However I did make a few playful passes at a toplanding area before finally committing and getting down.

On the next flight I got high in a slight increase in the wind and decided to test the turn-n-burn bailout option. Verifying I could get way downwind from a stand of ironwood tree rotor, I blazed far downwind, turned back to face it and had a nice mellow landing in a grassy field. It's really good to know that option is available here!

After that I flew two more times and just relaxed and played at the edge of the lift band above the crashing waves, happy to enjoy some smooth and mellow ridge lift on Maui! But I couldn't help but look longingly over toward Halawa Valley on Moloka'i and imagine what the XC ridge potential along that north coast would have been on that brilliant Saturday afternoon...

Aloha!

P.S.: I'd say this site, unofficial as it is, would require a P3 (or advanced O'ahu P2) with a local guide -- ME! -- to fly safely.

Greener Pastures

Yesterday I convinced Don and Suicide Pete to join me out at Kahana, to try our hands at a bay crossing on what was forecast to be our final day of northerly winds. It had averaged around 9 mph NNE all morning. The direction and wind speed were looking so perfect, I went so far as to claim that you could even fly a mattress across the bay on a day like this. But by the time we got to mid launch on the north ridge, the average wind speed had dropped to 5 or less. Our bay crossing dreams slowly faded - as it got lighter, we realized we'd be lucky to make it across the bay just to reach the beach LZ!

I hucked off first, from the high launch, but sank like a brick (or a mattress), and went for an emergency top-landing, pretty far below the low launch. I managed to kill my wing in just such a way that it snaked down perfectly between the umbrella trees, and didn't snag on anything - cool! But then I lost my balance on the steep terrain, and did a back somersault into a deep hole obscured by the undergrowth -- a nice hiding spot for wild pigs. I frantically clawed my way up and out of there. Yikes! You just can't tell what's underfoot sometimes. Later in the day I realized I probably lost my sunglasses there - if you see a wild pig sporting an old pair of Maui Jims, maybe you can politely ask if they found them on the north ridge.

I hiked back up as far as mid launch, and watched Pete take off from high launch. He worked it hard for a few minutes, but eventually sank out and barely made it over the boat ramp to the beach. It just wasn't looking good for the bay crossing crew. Maybe the hubris of that mattress comment I made had ticked someone off.

After watching Pete disappear, I took off for a second attempt from mid launch, and actually got some good cycles, probably more thermic than anything else at that point, and it was enough to get me to high launch altitude. I headed around the corner to where I expected to find the good stuff - but there wasn't any good stuff there, just shade and still air. I continued on a slow steady descent along the north face, kicking treetops, hoping for a little cycle to save me, and knowing I was definitely not going to make it back the way I came. But that was okay - as I've always told folks, if you get low around the corner, there are plenty of nice pastures to land in along the north ridge. (I landed in one myself a few years ago, and I don't remember that it went too badly, except for a little mud and some trailblazing to find the highway.)

I made it to the far corner of the north face, ridiculously low, but then at the last possible moment I got a little thermic boost that made me think I could at least punch out to the flat fields of Punaluu. But that boost was instantly followed by a hard sink cycle, and I realized I'd never clear the high dense tree line in front of me, with its power lines and farm buildings. So I turned back and looked closer at the pasture below me - it was full of bovine type critters, and surrounded by barbed wire fences, with power lines on the low side. Now that I was faced with the reality of actually landing in one of these pastures, it was looking like a pretty poor option.

I aimed for the high end of the field, making a big swooping turn and intending to touch down on a nice high plateau just over the fence from the pasture. But at the last moment I sank too low and slammed into the barbed wire fence with my boots. As I bounced off, the wing draped over a large bush on the fence line. I fell backward onto my rear end, and immediately lost my balance on the sloping ground, reaching out to catch myself with my right hand, still holding the brake handle. My arm sank into a muddy hole up to my neck. Ewww! I pulled it out of the stinking hole and tried to stand up, but both my legs sank into mud holes up to my knees - the suction was powerful and I could barely move.

I realized I had fallen into a truly diabolical paraglider trap: this upper part of the pasture with no cows in it had appeared to be solid grassy ground, albeit sloped and sort of lumpy - but now I realized that there was a constant flow of water from the forest above, that turned the lumpy grass slope into a pockmarked bog of mud and clay. Maybe the cows had designed this trap in their resentment at our carefree soaring life: they had repeatedly perforated the slope here with deep holes, which were filled with mud from the constant flow of water from above, and hidden from casual glance by lumpy tufts of grass perched on the few remaining borders of solid ground. I cast a wary glance at the cows, wondering if any bulls would take offense at the red fabric of my glider in the tree. I knew I'd better hurry out of there before they got too curious.

I managed to unstick my legs, and started to navigate the little ridges of hard ground with the grass lumps growing on them, but every few steps I would lose my footing and sink into another mud hole up to my knees. As I got to the bush and started yanking my wing out, the air was instantly filled with white fluffy seeds floating around and sticking to my mud soaked skin and clothing, and burning my eyes. Now I was truly tarred and feathered. A nice coast guard helicopter buzzed by, and then buzzed by again, and then again. I waved politely, trying to convey that I was fine, but I'm sure I must have looked awful down there.

"Sir, we've spotted a possible terrorist paratrooper, camouflaged in mud, and we're heading in for a closer look . . . oh well, never mind, it's one of those nutball paragliders, and it looks like he'll be cow fodder before we can even get to him". Sure enough, the cows were starting to head my way. Nice cows! Nice little cowsies! I ripped the last few lines off the bush, choking and squinting through the airborne fog of fluffy seeds, and hastily rolled my gear up into a muddy, gooey blob. I lofted it over the barbed wire fence and scrambled over to join it before the malevolent fiends could get to me. Whew! There were cattle tracks on the other side as well, but no cattle visible, so maybe I was safe for a moment.

I gathered up my muddy gear and slowly tiptoed my way across the last of the mud holes to the high flat ground I'd originally aimed for. From here I could see a road below with power lines along it, and at that moment I also spotted two large dogs loping down the road together. Uh oh. I waited a moment for them to get out of sight, then hustled down to the road, climbing over a gate to get there, and I headed in the opposite direction, towards Punaluu. The dogs were headed more towards Kahana, which would have probably been the shortest way to the highway, but I didn't think the chances were good that those dogs would give me a free pass. I would have scared my own dog in my current state, covered with slime and lugging a dripping mud ball along with me.

I was definitely heading out the long way around: the road wound deep back into Punaluu Valley before hooking back to pass by the shrimp ponds and out to the highway, about a mile, or maybe closer to fifty. On the way I passed a bull that was roaming free in the woods - I pretended I didn't see him, just kept my head down and chugged on by, and luckily he ignored me. Almost at the gate, a farmer drove by and asked if I was okay. Turns out he is a buddy of Chopper Dave's, an airplane mechanic named Richard who now works on Fedex planes and runs some farms back in the valley.

I got hold of Peter on the radio and he met me at the gate and drove me back to Kahana. I hope his truck isn't too muddy after that ride. I unloaded my soggy gear, rinsed myself off in the park shower and put on some clean clothes that Don happened to have with him. Then I began to take stock of the damage.

First, the electronics: my phone was rebooting every few seconds and vibrating for no reason. When it did occasionally power all the way up, it would give me a warning about an incompatible accessory. Wait, water and mud aren't compatible? The phone is working okay today, although it is still giving me the warning. My camera was soaking wet - we removed the battery, but the viewfinder was completely fogged over - it won't turn on today, and I'm pretty sure it's a goner. My vario and GPS were smeared with mud but appeared to be okay. My radio was okay.

As for the flying gear: the canopy was pretty filthy, but the risers and lines were caked with mud. The harness was thoroughly smeared with mud - and my reserve surely got wet. My boots weighed 10 pounds each from all the mud stuck to them.

Then I remembered I had left my jacket and my helmet (well, Dave's helmet) at the pasture. Don and Pete kindly offered to help me retrieve them - otherwise I probably would have just left them to the cows as souvenirs of the big one that got away. We waited at the gate until a nice farmer came by and let us in, so we could drive all the way to the pasture. We passed by a bull roaming free (a different one from the one I passed before) and heckled him from the safety of Don's truck. We met another farmer at the pasture, who explained that the water at the top was running from an old leftover water line that used to irrigate the plantation in the old days. He said he hoped I didn't have any open cuts, since the water was pilau (polluted). Hmm, it would be hard to find a part of me that didn't have open cuts at that moment. Hopefully I don't come down with anything too nasty.

I'm spending the day today sorting through and rinsing off my muddy gear. I have plenty of time now to reflect on my mistakes. After that exhausting ordeal in the mud trap, and the exciting escape from the cows, bulls, dogs, and bacteria that lurk under the north face of Kahana, I can now say with some confidence that the pastures over there are actually not that great an option for bombing out after all. Next time I head around that corner, I plan to start with a bit more altitude, and I will be sure to turn back before the pasture becomes the only option.

Makapuu Helo Ops on Thursday, April 10th

We just got a note from the flight scheduler at the US Coast Guard Air Station at Barbers Point. He wrote to inform us that the Coast Guard will be conducting helicopter operations around Makapuu Lighthouse on Thursday, April 10th. Please give them a reasonable amount of room to maneuver in this area, and pass the word to anyone who might be thinking of flying at Makapuu on Thursday. Thanks!

Strong north day at Kahana

After several attempts this past week, and after waiting out squalls and strong winds with my buddies all day today, I finally managed to harness these northerly winds to cross the bay, during a surprise lucky window this afternoon. It was beautiful over Kaaawa in the afternoon light, just like I remembered it! It would have been even sweeter with some company over there, of course. But it was still great to see everyone who came out today.

Jim called me early from Kahana, and I joined him around 9. I launched for a quick warmup flight in moderate NE conditions, and toplanded to avoid a massive squall. Jim almost got airborne, but decided to wait out the squall. Jeff and Don hiked up just as the squall hit. Suicide showed up not long after that and made his way up as well.

But after the squall passed through, the wind filled in behind it with a vengeance, strong and cross from the north. We waited up there another hour or so, before it seemed to grow marginally lighter and less cross. I executed what the guys called a creative launch, shooting between some trees and working the strong turbulent crosswind around the corner and up into the abundant lift. It was the stiffest north wind I've ever flown there. After quite a while waiting to see if anyone else would feel like launching to come up and park with me, I decided it was too strong to enjoy properly, and I landed - it was nuking on the beach, about the limit for kiting.

As I landed, Fireman Dave and Czech Peter appeared and hiked up, passing Don, Jeff, Jim and Suicide as they were hiking down. I talked to visiting pilot John from SF for a while at the LZ. Dave launched his tiny Morpheus as Reaper and Sony showed up, and we did some extreme kiting and beverage consuming at the LZ while watching Dave parked up there.

After Dave landed, Reaper, Sony and Suicide left to join Quentin at Piikoi's party; Jim went home; and Dave went to check out the kiteboarding. Me and Czech Pete hiked up again, because we thought it had grown a bit lighter, and we wanted to try and land at Piikoi's party to surprise the other guys. Sure enough, it was launchable, though still kind of strong and still super cross.

I got to 1900 and managed to just barely cross the bay, flying the last half on full speed bar, and finally squeaking low around the knob and into the lift over there. Czech Pete had to work valiantly to get up in the tiny Buzz, and got to about 1700 before trying to follow me across the bay, but ended up bailing for the LZ midway. I flew over Kaaawa for a while in very strong lift, before coming back to join him at the LZ - the guys had already left Piikoi's party so there wasn't much point landing there.

Dave ended up finding it too light for kiteboarding at Kailua, so he hiked up Lanikai and launched from the low shoulder there, flew for a bit in very strong northerly conditions, and then landed on the beach, where he happened to meet visiting pilot Chris from DC.

It was great to see everyone out there - maybe we can try again tomorrow!

Dreams and Legends

Over the last couple of days we have enjoyed some interesting flying out here at Kahana, in tradewinds that were blowing more northerly than usual. When the trades turn anywhere north of their usual easterly heading, we typically expect to have a better chance to make the easterly crossing of the mile-wide bay and get up on the far side. According to the forecast I had dreams of epic missions to Kualoa, or beyond. It seems like ages since we've been over that way!

On Tuesday we enjoyed a gorgeous sunny afternoon in breezy NE trades. Flying with Jim, Jeff and visitor Steve from Washington, we tried to cross a bunch of times (I personally made three attempts) but it just seemed to be a bit too strong. The direction was more straight in to the bay than usual, so the headwind factor was definitely reduced, but the windstrength required us to crab so hard to the left that we expended too much glide to make it all the way across. This just wasn't the day to make the bay-crossing dream come true. Heading in to land and go pick up Amelia, I was compelled to pause over the trees on the beach to make a few passes in the nice straight-in airflow. I didn't realize Jim was following me in, and for a moment there we were playing chicken over the beach and surf, before I bailed out of the lift to allow him to make a typical approach. Glad we worked that one out!

Yesterday, wind conditions improved to moderate NNE tradewinds, and I was hopeful that the decreased windstrength and the increased northerly component would bring the bay crossing into easy reach. I launched first from the north ridge and found the airflow to be very cross from the rhino horn side - I barely managed to squeak around and get up. Don tried to follow, and struggled valiantly just above launch height for a long time, but couldn't quite get around into the lift on the Punaluu side, so he skillfully toplanded after a while to take a break.

Meanwhile, I managed to get just above 1600 in pretty light lift, and blazed across the bay encountering no headwind at all. But I still fell just slightly short of the knob over there, sinking behind the knob just as I got close. Dang! I turned back thinking I'd be lucky to make the LZ with less than 500 feet of altitude to work with. But as I retreated, I was surprised to find I wasn't losing much height, and I continued back across the bay towards the launch ridge while keeping an eye on my height and on the LZ. My vario actually started beeping at around mid-bay position, and I began to think I'd actually make it back, and save myself the trouble of folding, packing and hiking back up. As I got close, I realized I was coming in a lot lower than I'd hoped, but I still managed to drop into a small clearing just above the treeline on the north side. Sheez, maybe a bit too close for comfort. Don helped me detangle from some small rubber trees and hike my stuff back up, while Scrappy radioed to say he was just arriving. Thanks to Scrappy for calling the fire bureau to counter any potential reports of a hang glider crash at Kahana.

I got back up top, and quickly relaunched in conditions that were decidedly even more north than earlier. A swirly gust from the rhino horn picked me up off my feet, and I spun to face forwards as I was lofted and deposited on my back at the ridgetop. Laying there, I kept flying the wing, until another swirly gust picked me up and shot me off to the east, away from the rhino horn, but also slightly upwards. Then I noticed an instantaneous and disconcerting feeling of rapid descent, and saw my leading edge rippling. Hands up! Then it happened again. Um, Maybe the airflow was really just a bit too northerly after all. This dream-chasing adventure was turning into a nightmare! I flew out to the east, away from the ridge area, hoping to find some lighter level of turbulence that I could handle, and maybe work it wide around the corner in some net lifting air, but I ended up getting way too low and had to beeline back to the LZ. Fortunately I hit no sink on the way, and pulled in with enough height to clear the trees and soar them for a few passes. I even got to soar the Kaaawa side of the trees and got nice lift there for the first time ever.

Just was I was landing, Czech Peter and visitor Steve showed up. Peter made the hike to join Don and Scrappy at launch, while Steve wisely opted to wait with me at the beach. After over an hour waiting for better conditions, Don hiked down, leaving Scrappy and Peter to continue their vigil at launch. Peter finally decided to attempt a launch, but after inflating his wing briefly up there, the swirly turbulence convinced him to abort before he was forced to repeat my little adventure. Peter and Scrappy soon joined us down at the beach, just as Wayne showed up to join the fun.

The airflow at the beach felt brisk and perfectly perpendicular, and the guys decided to do some kiting to salvage the afternoon. I suggested we try to re-enact the timeworn legend of hand towing pilots up into the lift over the trees. Scrappy found a nice long rope, and Wayne contributed a cool kite-surfing bridle release, and soon Peter, Scrappy and myself all got a shot at being towed up over the trees. Scrappy enjoyed the lightest wing-loading and got the most airtime, almost getting fully established up there for a legendary tree-soaring flight, but not quite. It's harder than in the old days because the trees have been thinned out, and some of them lean way out, but I think if the wind had been slightly stronger, it would have been a sure thing. Or maybe I'm just dreaming.