By Angelo Mantas
I read Lisa Verzella's King report with great interest and some bemusement. Bemused, because I thought King would be a great place for a first competition! Yep, my third ever day of competition was that Sunday Lisa talked about, when the Lemhi Valley air was churning like a washing machine.
Local sky god frank Gillette said you needed at least 13,000 AGL (2,000' over the peak) before going over the back, and since I'd only gone down the valley and never went over the back of anything before, I seriously considered not launching. But everyone was getting up pretty easy, so I decided to launch.
The first part of the flight was actually easy. The lift was strong and smooth as I rocketed toward King's peak. I made up my mind to get at least 14,000' before going over, and I just hit it as the lift broke up. On with the VG and straight across the top. The crossing was anticlimactic, pretty smooth and the sink wasn't even all that bad. I saw a few gliders way below me, and I'll bet those were the ones that got flushed just the other side of King.
Now safely across, I started looking for lift. A few nibbles, then a thermal blast that nearly ripped the bar out of my hands! "Sweet Jesus, what was that?", I thought, as I turned tail and ran. Checking my vario later, it registered a spike of 1780 FPM. Soon I found a more manageable thermal and started going up again.
The air was getting worse, and I was getting batted about. My glider had developed a left turn, and my VG had stuck in the off position, which was fine with me, since I wanted all the control authority I could get. Part of me was saying "make that first goal" but another was saying "dear God, just let me land this thing." Soon I approached the southern end of the Lemhis, some ridges that were a few hundred feet high. I turned into the wind, thinking I might be able to soar the ridge while waiting for a thermal.
As I turned into the wind, the glider came to a dead stop, and I hadn't even slowed down yet! I suddenly realized that the wind had picked up, and I was caught in the compression on the ridge top. There were power lines in back of the ridge, so I couldn't race downwind. I was stuck, fighting to penetrate forward of the ridge. With the bar to my waist, my GPS said I was barely moving, 4 to 6 MPH. The turbulence and left turn in my wing made it almost impossible to keep straight, and I was tiring quick. Finally I got clear of the compression and lift, and hovered down to a zero-ground speed landing in the cactus - infested dust, just after my chase pulled up.
I titled this post "King Contradictions" because it is run as a low-key meet. You are not timed to goal, only scored on your distance, so it has none of the cutthroat tension I've heard about at "serious" meets. Lisa Tate, who has been running the meet for several years now, is extremely easy going yet runs the meet like clockworks. As far as I can tell, everyone enjoys the atmosphere created there.
But the conditions in the air above King are anything but laid back. At first I thought I had "wimped out" Sunday, but after getting back to Moore Town Park, all I heard was story after story of pilots landing with no ground speed or even going backwards on touchdown, then we heard about the 'chute deployment. Talking to other pilots about the turbulence, several told me this was as bad as anything they had seen in the Owens. Years ago, I had decided to never fly the Owens, It just sounded too radical. And here I was, just having flown equally extreme air.
Will I come back? Don't know. The two previous days I flew, Friday and one day in last years meet, the air wasn't quite as terrifying. I launched pretty late both times, so the air settled down a bit from midday conditions. But if you want to get any distance, you've got to launch earlier, and mellow meet or not, it's still a competition.
I will say this; On Friday, after safely crossing the notorious Ram's Horn, I caught a boomer in front of a beautiful ridge called Sunset. The lift started at 600 FPM, and soon went through 1,000. In stunned amazement, I listened as my vario made noises I had never heard before as the indicator went to 1600 FPM. And it was smooth. Since I didn't have oxygen, I decided to pull out. I was at 15,000' when I finally left that lift. Climbing out over Sunset on that Friday afternoon is something I will never, ever forget.
One thing's for sure; if I do come back, I'm bringing oxygen.