A Trip To Remember

By Pete Detore

Here is a recount of my fantastic voyage into the deep blue sky over Indiana and Ohio in early May of 2002. That flight won the greatest distance traveled in one flight award this year. An award I shall cherish for ever. On this one day, I was the big fish in the little pond, or so I would like to think.

The opportunity of a glider flight first presented itself to me last season as a surprise. Having checked our new and still developing web site for the club calender many times over the winter I admit I became lax, and figured I'd get an e-mail about it when ever it appeared. I had attended the last meeting and beer session, but there was no mention of a club downwind contest. So imagine my surprise when I checked the WT site the Thursday before my crew weekend, and there it was DOWN WIND DASH. The weather up to this point had been quite disagreeable for CISS and I had not made a single club flight yet in the season. A quick call to Ron Clark affirmed the weekend contest was on, so I inquired if a Friday flight in a club ship would qualify for the contest, of course he said without hesitation. So out came all the flight gear and on went all the battery chargers. After a good night's sleep, I was rearing to go.

Weather conditions for a possible cross country flight to CCSC looked very favorable. A tailwind of 10 at the surface blew steadily, and from looking at the Jet-Stream forecast, I was confident that it would continue all day. A slab of white cirrus lay beneath the Jet-Stream (over Indy running E-W) and stayed there just as predicted. Having already made a CC flight to Richmond, I felt very confident I could get to CCSC no problem.

Arriving at Terry at around 8:30, I began preparing PW for it's big adventure. A thorough washing and towel dry was needed for the bird droppings were profuse. I spent a couple hours getting PW in shape to fly when the other guys began to show up to rig. Terry Wools was first to get rigged and ready, so I got him to walk my wing out to the stub. Then my old friend and the guy who gave me my check ride showed up to fly the Grob. I said if it is in the same shape PW was in, your Going to need a hand. So I diverted my attention to helping Don get the Grob washed dryed and dragged out to the mid field stub. Now it was close to noon, and the tow pilot showed up. Don T said I would be first off and I had only about five minute to put my stuff in the plane, do preflight checks, move my car, hit the head, and get back to the plane. My launch was at 12:00 straight up.

A series of small cu's popped for a while, then the sky turned to blue. To test the thermal activity, I ran downwind for about ten miles then turned back toward Terry. On the return, PW and me ran into several good thermals. My confidence in the sky soared, as did the thermals, up to one mile high in the early afternoon. Turning downwind again and making way for Anderson, I followed HW 32. I was there before I knew it. Get high, Stay high! That was the rule of the day, for I was able to climb to 6 or 7k agl pretty much at will. I was quite high over Yorktown so I pulled out the cell phone and gave the wife a ring. Pity she never answered, I wanted her to come outside and see me circling with the hawks high above, but she was in the bath tub at the time and couldn't come to the phone.

Floating over Reese airport in Muncie, I picked up HW 35 and made a SW run to my old familiar Richmond. From there, I continued, finger on chart, all the way to Caesar Creek Glider Port. Once in the area of CCSC, at about a mile high, I searched for signs of glider life on the ground. Alas the airport was soggy with all the rain, and no airplanes were to be seen. Up and down the creek, back and forth to the reservoir and still not a hint of the landing strip. With shadows beginning to grow long, I sadly made my way back toward Indiana. The last hour of flight gradually became more and more challenging. The sun reflected brightly off of a runway in the east. Making good headway in the weakening lift, I was going for "any port in a storm". So, there I was, safely on the ground and Papa Whisky safely in a hangar. I mused "if only my mates could see me now... if only my mates would come get me now."