more Florida Ridge, also long (sorry!!!)

[Lauren Tjaden]

Paul and I arrived at Florida Ridge on Monday. My attitude was not as good as it should have been. I have been visualizing flying there, flying well, maybe winning the Sport class, but the week had been long. My parents visited. I competed my horse. I crewed for the Flytec and achieved my toughest free flight successfully. I collapsed a glider on top of a competitor when I pulled on his nose wires (when crewing). Originally it was believed I ruined the competition for him though later he thanked me for saving his life. Pictures taken moments before revealed a bulge in the carbon fiber where it had been damaged in a whack the night before.
And then Chris died. Impossible. I do not understand how you can talk to a person in the morning and then have them go away like that, forever. A bungee jump could not have provided more highs and lows. I didn't feel like flying. I just felt like curling up with my cat and sleeping for a couple of months. Not even depressed. Just tired.
The weather cooperated at Florida Ridge for a couple of days. The wind blew and then the clouds poured rain. It suited me. But eventually it, on Thursday, it became flyable. Instead of wanting to get into the sky, I felt scared of the wind and how the tow would be. I was late getting ready and launching. Making excuses.
Bo towed me into a weak thermal, but when it died I was only at 3000 feet. I pushed upwind to try and get higher before leaving the field, instead of joining the few gliders left in the area downwind. Finding nothing else, I decked it shortly thereafter. I thought I could do better with a re-light, but after I three tows I realized the first thermal Bo had given me had been my only chance.
Well. I had lots of towing and landing practice in windy conditions. I thought my competition was beatable, but I was tied for last after that. I only got points for launching.
At a comp, you tend to get very tight and close to the little group of people around you. You root for each other and pick each other up and help. Monica and Scott from Australia, Johan from South Africa, Tom from the US, Shegeto from Japan, all became allies, as well as my loyal instructor, Kevin, Bo, and other friends. Ah, yeesh, then there's Linda and Mark from NY. But it is silly to list them. The names mean little. It is the people, the kindnesses, the laughter that means anything. I wasn't doing much good at flying but I got lots of advice and love.
The second day was windy, too, but I vowed to be first in line to launch. I tried to picture winning, or at least what it would feel like to cross goal. I wasn't first to launch, but I was early enough to fly with the gaggle. The start window for the flexies and the rigids wasn't until a little later but the Sport class could start anytime. I headed downwind, expecting the field to catch me on their faster ships as I passed the swampy, bad retrieve area immediately to the North of the field. I trekked west, into total blue conditions, marked only by the occasional haze dome. Everyone else trekked east (you have to skirt one way or another past the swamp).
I never saw anyone else until Marc Fink picked me up where I landed, 14 miles away, totally off course line. I flew so far off course line that even though I flew further than the others (in the Sport class) I only got 6 miles on course. I looked at my GPS in disgust as I broke down, wondering if I could blame my ineptitude on being left handed.
Events became more interesting as I broke down. I decided to break down into the wind since there was little of it and I was right with the glider. A dust devil turned Griffin upside down but thankfully didn't break her. OK, one more lesson. Never, never will I do that again. I got her upright right before Marc came. He chatted with me outside the barb wire fence as I finished breaking down.
He decided to relieve himself at the exact moment the Sheriff pulled up to arrest us both. He managed to shake off his, uh, member, in time to turn and greet the law. No sh** the sheriff said he was there to arrest us. Not because of Marc and his unfortunate timing in peeing, but because I was trespassing on the Lyke's land. They own 450,000 acres (this is NOT an typo) and somebody spooked their cows. My field was empty but no one seemed to care. I was trying to look cute and throw my stuff together really quick and hoping Marc didn't get mad and start talking to the sheriff about Bush. But the sheriff let us off with a warning.
Poor Marc was recovering from the flu and had to stop and barf up his ice cream and beer on a hapless tree while we picked up the very jubilant Paul and friends. I tried not to be a total downer and climbed into the back of the truck so I wouldn't spread my misery on those around me. But then my butt started to hurt so I climbed back inside the truck. Johan had flown 5 hours and was exhausted, said he would not do it again. We found Shegeto WAY behind a gate again. I drank martinis. My standings in the meet did not improve. When we arrived back all the dinner had been eaten.
Conditions looked blown out yesterday, the last day of the meet. I set up my glider when the task committee decided to call a task in spite of the howling winds. It was a simple task, some 36 miles downwind, the same for all classes, so we could get done early enough for a party afterwards. Few thought we would be able to fly, though. But the wind abated a bit finally, and I got one more chance to decide my fate.
I was in line early but had a green tow pilot. My weak link broke after an extremely fast 350 feet. I forget how spoiled we are with our exceptional pilots to tow us. Thankfully my friend Bo was there to drag me up the second time. Thankfully also my radio had become broken so I had blissful silence. Bo dragged me downwind to the remaining gaggle. No chance of flying home from there. I was in zero sink at 2500, drifting fast towards the swamp. The gaggle flew west but I was too low. For 14 miles, I flew at 3000 feet or below, from field to field, butt clenched strong enough to break a man's arm. I tried to stay towards the edge of the swamp, so I could glide out, taking any scraps of lift I found. I saw maybe 200 a minute at best.
After Highway 29 and 27 joined, I saw 2 other gliders. At 1000 feet, unzipped over a field with cows (oh yeah, I was going to jail for sure this time) I discovered they were just as stupid as I was. They struggled in the same rat crap I did. When I followed them I just got lower. At least I would have friends to land with. But then I saw some birds. Unlike my hang gliding buddies, they knew about the air. I flew over them and found 900 up a minute. I remembered what Kevin said about hanging onto the side of your glider when it tried to pitch up too much but I was damned if I was flying out of that devil thermal. Minutes later I cruised along at 5000 feet, finally getting some cool air to breathe. The other gliders never got that particular climb, I just got lucky and caught the bullet.
The last 22 miles were nothing. Clouds formed, and I only turned in strong lift. Conditions got smooth. Mainly I just drifted along, arms slung over the base tube, pushing out when I had lift. I saw the airport where goal was a little later, just like it looked on the Delorme map. I didn't race hard enough and arrived with 3500 feet, but it didn't matter because none of the other Sport class made it to goal at all. I did it in an hour and a half. I landed really nicely.
Ah, it was so great. Paul won the day. He ran up when I landed and so did Monica. God I love her. Shegeto landed awhile later and we took pictures of each other. Linda and Mark made goal, too. I got drunk and threw Russell to the ground and kissed him. I thought Laurie, his wife, might think I was lusting after him instead of being excited about flying so then I threw her on the ground and kissed her, too. I think she liked it.
I not only won the day but won the Sport class since I got 933 points for the day and we all were fairly close before that. I couldn't sleep at all last night. Like, at all. Not ten minutes. I just laid in bed thinking about it all. Today we drove home and I have been mauling my kitty since we got in. Wow. I will really miss all our new friends. I am lucky to have these opportunities.
Lauren

[John Simon]

Holy Cows....?
??? Congrats Lauren and Paul!? Sounds like a dream down there.? Please come back up here and teach me how to fly... Quick.?
?
John
?

-----Original Message-----
From: Lauren Tjaden [mailto:Giddyupandglide@yahoo.com]
Sent: Sunday, May 01, 2005 8:17 PM
To: hg_forum@chgpa.org
Subject: more Florida Ridge, also long (sorry!!!)



Paul and I arrived at Florida Ridge on Monday. My attitude was not as good as it should have been. I have been visualizing flying there, flying well, maybe winning the Sport class, but the week had been long. My parents visited. I competed my horse. I crewed for the Flytec and achieved my toughest free flight successfully. I collapsed a glider on top of a competitor when I pulled on his nose wires (when crewing). Originally it was believed I ruined the competition for him though later he thanked me for saving his life. Pictures taken moments before revealed a bulge in the carbon fiber where it had been damaged in a whack the night before.
And then Chris died. Impossible. I do not understand how you can talk to a person in the morning and then have them go away like that, forever. A bungee jump could not have provided more highs and lows. I didn't feel like flying. I just felt like curling up with my cat and sleeping for a couple of months. Not even depressed. Just tired.
The weather cooperated at Florida Ridge for a couple of days. The wind blew and then the clouds poured rain. It suited me. But eventually it, on Thursday, it became flyable. Instead of wanting to get into the sky, I felt scared of the wind and how the tow would be. I was late getting ready and launching. Making excuses.
Bo towed me into a weak thermal, but when it died I was only at 3000 feet. I pushed upwind to try and get higher before leaving the field, instead of joining the few gliders left in the area downwind. Finding nothing else, I decked it shortly thereafter. I thought I could do better with a re-light, but after I three tows I realized the first thermal Bo had given me had been my only chance.
Well. I had lots of towing and landing practice in windy conditions. I thought my competition was beatable, but I was tied for last after that. I only got points for launching.
At a comp, you tend to get very tight and close to the little group of people around you. You root for each other and pick each other up and help. Monica and Scott from Australia, Johan from South Africa, Tom from the US, Shegeto from Japan, all became allies, as well as my loyal instructor, Kevin, Bo, and other friends. Ah, yeesh, then there's Linda and Mark from NY. But it is silly to list them. The names mean little. It is the people, the kindnesses, the laughter that means anything. I wasn't doing much good at flying but I got lots of advice and love.
The second day was windy, too, but I vowed to be first in line to launch. I tried to picture winning, or at least what it would feel like to cross goal. I wasn't first to launch, but I was early enough to fly with the gaggle. The start window for the flexies and the rigids wasn't until a little later but the Sport class could start anytime. I headed downwind, expecting the field to catch me on their faster ships as I passed the swampy, bad retrieve area immediately to the North of the field. I trekked west, into total blue conditions, marked only by the occasional haze dome. Everyone else trekked east (you have to skirt one way or another past the swamp).
I never saw anyone else until Marc Fink picked me up where I landed, 14 miles away, totally off course line. I flew so far off course line that even though I flew further than the others (in the Sport class) I only got 6 miles on course. I looked at my GPS in disgust as I broke down, wondering if I could blame my ineptitude on being left handed.
Events became more interesting as I broke down. I decided to break down into the wind since there was little of it and I was right with the glider. A dust devil turned Griffin upside down but thankfully didn't break her. OK, one more lesson. Never, never will I do that again. I got her upright right before Marc came. He chatted with me outside the barb wire fence as I finished breaking down.
He decided to relieve himself at the exact moment the Sheriff pulled up to arrest us both. He managed to shake off his, uh, member, in time to turn and greet the law. No sh** the sheriff said he was there to arrest us. Not because of Marc and his unfortunate timing in peeing, but because I was trespassing on the Lyke's land. They own 450,000 acres (this is NOT an typo) and somebody spooked their cows. My field was empty but no one seemed to care. I was trying to look cute and throw my stuff together really quick and hoping Marc didn't get mad and start talking to the sheriff about Bush. But the sheriff let us off with a warning.
Poor Marc was recovering from the flu and had to stop and barf up his ice cream and beer on a hapless tree while we picked up the very jubilant Paul and friends. I tried not to be a total downer and climbed into the back of the truck so I wouldn't spread my misery on those around me. But then my butt started to hurt so I climbed back inside the truck. Johan had flown 5 hours and was exhausted, said he would not do it again. We found Shegeto WAY behind a gate again. I drank martinis. My standings in the meet did not improve. When we arrived back all the dinner had been eaten.
Conditions looked blown out yesterday, the last day of the meet. I set up my glider when the task committee decided to call a task in spite of the howling winds. It was a simple task, some 36 miles downwind, the same for all classes, so we could get done early enough for a party afterwards. Few thought we would be able to fly, though. But the wind abated a bit finally, and I got one more chance to decide my fate.
I was in line early but had a green tow pilot. My weak link broke after an extremely fast 350 feet. I forget how spoiled we are with our exceptional pilots to tow us. Thankfully my friend Bo was there to drag me up the second time. Thankfully also my radio had become broken so I had blissful silence. Bo dragged me downwind to the remaining gaggle. No chance of flying home from there. I was in zero sink at 2500, drifting fast towards the swamp. The gaggle flew west but I was too low. For 14 miles, I flew at 3000 feet or below, from field to field, butt clenched strong enough to break a man's arm. I tried to stay towards the edge of the swamp, so I could glide out, taking any scraps of lift I found. I saw maybe 200 a minute at best.
After Highway 29 and 27 joined, I saw 2 other gliders. At 1000 feet, unzipped over a field with cows (oh yeah, I was going to jail for sure this time) I discovered they were just as stupid as I was. They struggled in the same rat crap I did. When I followed them I just got lower. At least I would have friends to land with. But then I saw some birds. Unlike my hang gliding buddies, they knew about the air. I flew over them and found 900 up a minute. I remembered what Kevin said about hanging onto the side of your glider when it tried to pitch up too much but I was damned if I was flying out of that devil thermal. Minutes later I cruised along at 5000 feet, finally getting some cool air to breathe. The other gliders never got that particular climb, I just got lucky and caught the bullet.
The last 22 miles were nothing. Clouds formed, and I only turned in strong lift. Conditions got smooth. Mainly I just drifted along, arms slung over the base tube, pushing out when I had lift. I saw the airport where goal was a little later, just like it looked on the Delorme map. I didn't race hard enough and arrived with 3500 feet, but it didn't matter because none of the other Sport class made it to goal at all. I did it in an hour and a half. I landed really nicely.
Ah, it was so great. Paul won the day. He ran up when I landed and so did Monica. God I love her. Shegeto landed awhile later and we took pictures of each other. Linda and Mark made goal, too. I got drunk and threw Russell to the ground and kissed him. I thought Laurie, his wife, might think I was lusting after him instead of being excited about flying so then I threw her on the ground and kissed her, too. I think she liked it.
I not only won the day but won the Sport class since I got 933 points for the day and we all were fairly close before that. I couldn't sleep at all last night. Like, at all. Not ten minutes. I just laid in bed thinking about it all. Today we drove home and I have been mauling my kitty since we got in. Wow. I will really miss all our new friends. I am lucky to have these opportunities.
Lauren

[mcelrah]

Thanks for sharing the sorrow and the joy. - Hugh

On 1 May 2005, at 20:17, Lauren Tjaden wrote:

> Paul and I arrived at Florida Ridge on Monday. My attitude was not as
> good as it should have been. I have been visualizing flying there,
> flying well, maybe winning the Sport class, but the week had been
> long. My parents visited. I competed my horse. I crewed for the Flytec
> and achieved my toughest free flight successfully. I collapsed a
> glider on top of a competitor when I pulled on his nose wires (when
> crewing). Originally it was believed I ruined the competition for him
> though later he thanked me for saving his life. Pictures taken moments
> before revealed a bulge in the carbon fiber where it had been damaged
> in a whack the night before.
> And then Chris died. Impossible. I do not understand how you can talk
> to a person in the morning and then have them go away like that,
> forever. A bungee jump could not have provided more highs and lows. I
> didn't feel like flying. I just felt like curling up with my cat and
> sleeping for a couple of months. Not even depressed. Just tired.
> The weather cooperated at Florida Ridge for a couple of days. The
> wind blew and then the clouds poured rain. It suited me. But
> eventually it, on Thursday, it became flyable. Instead of wanting to
> get into the sky, I felt scared of the wind and how the tow would be.
> I was late getting ready and launching. Making excuses.
> Bo towed me into a weak thermal, but when it died I was only at 3000
> feet. I pushed upwind to try and get higher before leaving the field,
> instead of joining the few gliders left in the area downwind. Finding
> nothing else, I decked it shortly thereafter. I thought I could do
> better with a re-light, but after I three tows I realized the first
> thermal Bo had given me had been my only chance.
> Well. I had lots of towing and landing practice in windy conditions.
> I thought my competition was beatable, but I was tied for last after
> that. I only got points for launching.
> At a comp, you tend to get very tight and close to the little group
> of people around you. You root for each other and pick each other up
> and help. Monica and Scott from Australia, Johan from South Africa,
> Tom from the US, Shegeto from Japan, all became allies, as well as my
> loyal instructor, Kevin, Bo, and other friends. Ah, yeesh, then
> there's Linda and Mark from NY. But it is silly to list them. The
> names mean little. It is the people, the kindnesses, the laughter that
> means anything. I wasn't doing much good at flying but I got lots of
> advice and love.
> The second day was windy, too, but I vowed to be first in line to
> launch. I tried to picture winning, or at least what it would feel
> like to cross goal. I wasn't first to launch, but I was early enough
> to fly with the gaggle. The start window for the flexies and the
> rigids wasn't until a little later but the Sport class could start
> anytime. I headed downwind, expecting the field to catch me on their
> faster ships as I passed the swampy, bad retrieve area immediately to
> the North of the field. I trekked west, into total blue conditions,
> marked only by the occasional haze dome. Everyone else trekked east
> (you have to skirt one way or another past the swamp).
> I never saw anyone else until Marc Fink picked me up where I landed,
> 14 miles away, totally off course line. I flew so far off course line
> that even though I flew further than the others (in the Sport class) I
> only got 6 miles on course. I looked at my GPS in disgust as I broke
> down, wondering if I could blame my ineptitude on being left handed.
> Events became more interesting as I broke down. I decided to break
> down into the wind since there was little of it and I was right with
> the glider. A dust devil turned Griffin upside down but thankfully
> didn't break her. OK, one more lesson. Never, never will I do that
> again. I got her upright right before Marc came. He chatted with me
> outside the barb wire fence as I finished breaking down.
> He decided to relieve himself at the exact moment the Sheriff pulled
> up to arrest us both. He managed to shake off his, uh, member, in time
> to turn and greet the law. No sh** the sheriff said he was there to
> arrest us. Not because of Marc and his unfortunate timing in peeing,
> but because I was trespassing on the Lyke's land. They own 450,000
> acres (this is NOT an typo) and somebody spooked their cows. My field
> was empty but no one seemed to care. I was trying to look cute and
> throw my stuff together really quick and hoping Marc didn't get mad
> and start talking to the sheriff about Bush. But the sheriff let us
> off with a warning.
> Poor Marc was recovering from the flu and had to stop and barf up his
> ice cream and beer on a hapless tree while we picked up the very
> jubilant Paul and friends. I tried not to be a total downer and
> climbed into the back of the truck so I wouldn't spread my misery on
> those around me. But then my butt started to hurt so I climbed back
> inside the truck. Johan had flown 5 hours and was exhausted, said he
> would not do it again. We found Shegeto WAY behind a gate again. I
> drank martinis. My standings in the meet did not improve. When we
> arrived back all the dinner had been eaten.
> Conditions looked blown out yesterday, the last day of the meet. I
> set up my glider when the task committee decided to call a task in
> spite of the howling winds. It was a simple task, some 36 miles
> downwind, the same for all classes, so we could get done early enough
> for a party afterwards. Few thought we would be able to fly, though.
> But the wind abated a bit finally, and I got one more chance to decide
> my fate.
> I was in line early but had a green tow pilot. My weak link broke
> after an extremely fast 350 feet. I forget how spoiled we are with our
> exceptional pilots to tow us. Thankfully my friend Bo was there to
> drag me up the second time. Thankfully also my radio had become broken
> so I had blissful silence. Bo dragged me downwind to the remaining
> gaggle. No chance of flying home from there. I was in zero sink at
> 2500, drifting fast towards the swamp. The gaggle flew west but I was
> too low. For 14 miles, I flew at 3000 feet or below, from field to
> field, butt clenched strong enough to break a man's arm. I tried to
> stay towards the edge of the swamp, so I could glide out, taking any
> scraps of lift I found. I saw maybe 200 a minute at best.
> After Highway 29 and 27 joined, I saw 2 other gliders. At 1000 feet,
> unzipped over a field with cows (oh yeah, I was going to jail for sure
> this time) I discovered they were just as stupid as I was. They
> struggled in the same rat crap I did. When I followed them I just got
> lower. At least I would have friends to land with. But then I saw some
> birds. Unlike my hang gliding buddies, they knew about the air. I flew
> over them and found 900 up a minute. I remembered what Kevin said
> about hanging onto the side of your glider when it tried to pitch up
> too much but I was damned if I was flying out of that devil thermal.
> Minutes later I cruised along at 5000 feet, finally getting some cool
> air to breathe. The other gliders never got that particular climb, I
> just got lucky and caught the bullet.
> The last 22 miles were nothing. Clouds formed, and I only turned in
> strong lift. Conditions got smooth. Mainly I just drifted along, arms
> slung over the base tube, pushing out when I had lift. I saw the
> airport where goal was a little later, just like it looked on the
> Delorme map. I didn't race hard enough and arrived with 3500 feet, but
> it didn't matter because none of the other Sport class made it to goal
> at all. I did it in an hour and a half. I landed really nicely.
> Ah, it was so great. Paul won the day. He ran up when I landed and so
> did Monica. God I love her. Shegeto landed awhile later and we took
> pictures of each other. Linda and Mark made goal, too. I got drunk and
> threw Russell to the ground and kissed him. I thought Laurie, his
> wife, might think I was lusting after him instead of being excited
> about flying so then I threw her on the ground and kissed her, too. I
> think she liked it.
> I not only won the day but won the Sport class since I got 933 points
> for the day and we all were fairly close before that. I couldn't sleep
> at all last night. Like, at all. Not ten minutes. I just laid in bed
> thinking about it all. Today we drove home and I have been mauling my
> kitty since we got in. Wow. I will really miss all our new friends. I
> am lucky to have these opportunities.
> Lauren
>
>
>
>

[silverwings]

Congatulations Lauren, glad the third flying day went great for you. When are you and Paul coming back up here?

[Paul Tjaden]

In a message dated 5/2/2005 11:31:31 A.M. Eastern Standard Time, silverwingshg@netzero.net writes:

When are you and Paul coming back up here?

We will be back no later than June 1st. I can't wait to see all of you. Soon we will have a huge party together and tear up the skies!! Thanks to everybody for the congrats, too. The meet ended up being just the medicine?I needed. Nothing like that feeling when you see goal and know that you have it made.
Hey, an aside, David Glover said we could have a sport class at the Highland comp, and?I think Adam and Sunny would agree if we could get enough pilots for it (I am probably getting in huge trouble right now for writing this). It is really hard to complete huge tasks made for topless gliders, particularly when they are serious cross or upwind. Oleg against me on a Sport is not really fair, either (OK, Oleg against me on anything is not fair). But downwind, against other king posted gliders, it is really fun to test yourself. And Highland is perfect for starting XC flying, like the best place in the world. Can I convince lots of club members to enter? I think this would be just great fun.
Congrats to everyone on their Woodstock flights. Sounds boowah!
Lauren

[mcelrah]

I'm in for Sport class. Will a 4005 vario/GPSMap 76S be OK? - Hugh

On 2 May 2005, at 11:43, Tjadenhors@aol.com wrote:

> In a message dated 5/2/2005 11:31:31 A.M. Eastern Standard Time,
> silverwingshg@netzero.net writes:
> :
> When are you and Paul coming back up here?
>
>
> We will be back no later than June 1st. I can't wait to see all of
> you. Soon we will have a huge party together and tear up the skies!!
> Thanks to everybody for the congrats, too. The meet ended up being
> just the medicine?I needed. Nothing like that feeling when you see
> goal and know that you have it made.
> Hey, an aside, David Glover said we could have a sport class at the
> Highland comp, and?I think Adam and Sunny would agree if we could get
> enough pilots for it (I am probably getting in huge trouble right now
> for writing this). It is really hard to complete huge tasks made for
> topless gliders, particularly when they are serious cross or upwind.
> Oleg against me on a Sport is not really fair, either (OK, Oleg
> against me on anything is not fair). But downwind, against other king
> posted gliders, it is really fun to test yourself. And Highland is
> perfect for starting XC flying, like the best place in the world. Can
> I convince lots of club members to enter? I think this would be just
> great fun.
> Congrats to everyone on their Woodstock flights. Sounds boowah!
> Lauren
>
>
>
>

[Flying Lobster]

The only thing you need to worry about is having the right download cable--you can find one and any good marine supply store.

marc