Tormenting Molly 2.0

I've been sick for 5 days now and it has been pure hell. I'm up to my knees in tissues filled with my own thick greenish-brown nasal excrement. Needless to say I don't do well when I'm confined to the couch and forced to stay inactive. Luckily I've kept my sanity by continuing a pointless and solitary hobby left over from last winter, RC Helicoptering. It all started with a pair of Air Hog micro toy helicopters that Doug gave me for Christmas. Those were fun, but they didn't last very long. In a bout of winter induced boredom I took the next step (or skipped ahead 5 steps like going from a tricycle to Ducatti) and picked this up:



It was a full 3D collective pitch electric RC helicopter called the Honey Bee King II. I spent many obsessive hours learning, tuning, flying, crashing, and rebuilding it. At my best I was able to hover it facing away from me and fly in any direction or altitude as long as the nose continued to face away from me. The thing I couldn't do was keep control if the nose turned in any other orientation. I've flown RC airplanes in the past and never had orientation problems, but the helicopter was different. Here is a short video of me attempting to hover the Honey Bee and loosing control as it flys toward the camera and off screen:



After a few crashes it became harder to tune and soon would make uncommanded flight path changes. Eventually one of the those uncommanded inputs resulted in a spectacular crash which sent carbon fiber fragments flying everywhere. It was at a party with lots of spectators, but luckily no one was injured. A few weeks ago I sold the remnants of the Honey Bee and picked up the easiest RC Heli out there, a co-axial Blade CX 2.



A co-axial helicopter uses two main rotor blades mounted vertically spinning in opposite directions to cancel out each other's torque. It's easy to fly because you don't have to learn to coordinate the tail rotor with the main rotor blade. My Blade CX2 is basically stock except for an aluminum rotor head, carbon fiber tail boom and upgraded motors. It still needs to be tuned a little, it drifts forward and to the right. I'm taking small steps in learning to hover with the nose in other directions, so far I can do it nose right no problem. Here's 30 seconds of my work:



What does any of this have to do with the title "Tormenting Molly 2.0", you ask. Last year I posted a video of me tormenting Molly with the Air Hogs (here). To Molly the helicopter is nothing but a mysterious flying dog toy. She barks at it relentlessly, but doesn't try to attack it. The blades are flimsy enough that they wouldn't hurt her if she made contact, but it would be the end of the heli. I don't want to take a chance so I hover it just out of her reach. It's challenging to keep it stable in the blowing air currents of her barking breath. I only let her play about every third time so she knows it's just a game and not to chase it every time. Here she is in action:

I hope I get over my sickness soon because Jo and I have a couple winter trips coming up. In the mean time at least Molly and I have something to keep us busy and sane.

A Local Red-tailed Hawk

I've been at home sick for the past couple days. It's horrible, but I've had the chance to sort and edit some pics I've been meaning to post. I thought I'd stick with the local wildlife theme and share some pictures of the local red-tailed hawks in my neighborhood. There are several nesting pairs in the area. I haven't got enough pics or raptor knowledge to discern individual identity yet, but I'm working on it. I seem to be blessed, or cursed if your in the passenger seat, with the ability to keenly spot random things at a glance while in fast motion. I'm not sure if this a result of years of subconsciously scanning for traffic (other aircraft) at work or if I've always had it. My best guess is that I've always had it and just refined the skill once I started flying. In high school when I drove a 1973 VW bus I remember annoying my friend John by acutely pointing out every other air cooled Volkswagen that came within visible range of us. Opposite direction, abandoned in a backyard, or just a fender peaking out from under a car cover I could always spot them which made for some landslide punchbuggy victories! In the hang glider I've had numerous low saves from spotting a circling raptor, dust cloud, or bubble gum wrapper floating in lift just as I was setting up my landing approach. It's always been a great tool for spotting wildlife.

Anyway back on topic, I spotted this red tail on the way to fly at Look Out Mountain back in November. He was flying low, about 3 feet off the ground in front of a fence line near a bike path in my neighborhood. I refer to this one as a "he" because of his slightly smaller size than the other locals I have seen. The male red-tailed hawk can be up to 25% smaller than the female.
I kept my eye trained on him as he flew up into a group of cottonwood trees. I pulled over, grabbed my camera and crept slowly to the base of the trees. I was amazed at how perfect his plumage was camouflaged against the bark of the tree.



Undisturbed by my presence he swooped down to a grassy patch on the other side of a small stream from me. I moved slowly and quietly to get in a good shooting position. From what I could tell it looked he was trying to snag some kind of ground-burrowing prey. What ever it was, he missed. He stood there digging and pecking at the dirt, occasionally lifting a leg or a wing while constantly monitoring his surroundings. I moved in closer to get a better shot.

Then the intense quiet of the moment was broken by the obnoxious voice of a young kid screaming from the bike path behind the hawk. He yelled "Look at the birdy Mommy" and chased after it. I secretly hoped the hawk would take him out, but instead he abandoned his hunt and flew back to the safety of the cottonwoods. The suburban mother was oblivious to the danger her son had just put himself in or that they had ruined my photo mission. It only reinforced the disgust I have for my neighbors since I moved to suburbia. I got a sequence of the hawk as he took off, but my shutter speed was too low for a crisp image.

When he was back in the tree I was again impressed at how well camouflaged he was. With the sun lighting his belly he blended in well to the brightly lit bark of the cottonwood. I wondered if he intentionally positioned himself with the lighter colors into the sun to take full advantage of the light in camouflaging himself.

Not wanting to partake in anymore harassment I left him to hunt. On the way back to the truck I spotted his mate, who was perched in a thick nest of shrubbery. I gave her some space and widened my path around the shrubs. As I neared the sidewalk the angle was just right for me to see what she was watching. It was a squirrel who was nervously huddling in the thickest part of the shrubbery. There was no way the hawk could make a pass through the thick brush and the squirrel seemed to know it.

Marshal Pack Hunter

The Marshal Pack is my name for the local pack of coyotes that frequent Marshal Mesa and my neighborhood. I wrote a post about them last year here. On late summer nights with the windows open Jo and I can usually hear them howl and bark as they hunt in the prairie dog town across the street. I even had a face to face encounter with an alpha male in my driveway last August while doing some late night bike maintenance.

Earlier this month after the first snow of the year, Jo and I were returning from a hike with the dogs on Marshal Mesa when I spotted this guy below. He was hunting in the ditch next to the road as we drove by. I shifted the truck into 2WD and used the snow covered road to skid into a 180 which would be much quicker (and funner) than a 3 point turn. I dropped it back into 4WD and pulled up on the opposite shoulder about 15 yards away. The coyote ignored us and finished his hunt. I fumbled with mounting the zoom lens and missed him make the kill. With a fresh mouse in his mouth he turned his head and looked at me. The zoom lens was mounted, but we had locked eyes so I held off raising the camera to my face. His lack of fear and willingness to engage me reminded me of the driveway encounter last summer, but I couldn't be sure it was the same coyote. After our staring contest he turned, slipped under the fence and headed up the hill. Jo and I watched as he sniffed out the right bush and buried his prize.

Holiday Sunset

I knew the holiday season had arrived in Boulder when the sun set purple a couple of weeks ago. The perfect combination of sun angle and cloud height set up to light clouds behind the FlatIrons in deep maroon and purple. I was studying in Boulder when the show started and happened to have my camera with me. All I had was a zoom lens which would only open up to 70mm and I had no tripod so I had to get creative

The Sky

Flagstaff Star

Pearl Street

Boulder Theater

Pearl Street Fountain

The Court House

Court House Clock Tower

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays from the Lee-Side...

The White Rim 2008 - Day 4

When we woke up Monday morning we were all slow movers from the cumulative effects of 3 days of riding in the desert, plus the relentless cold at night. Bagels were for breakfast along with lots of coffee and OJ. I warmed up briefly next to the propane burner, but then had to steal it away from the group to pack up. The plan was for Jon and I to leave camp about an hour before the rest of the group so we could set up for my cliff launch above Mineral Bottom. Somehow we managed to pack up and leave camp on schedule.

I drove at a fast pace as the trail followed the Green River to Mineral Bottom. Other than a few sand traps, the trail was in good condition and allowed descent speeds. In my past one-day attempts I’d always encountered this section of the trail after about 7 hours of riding. By this point in the ride delirium and exhaustion had usually set in and the trail took on a surreal feeling in the dim light of the setting sun. My perceptions were always distorted by the tunnel vision and foggy mind that accompany the end of a 100 mile ride. Under bright morning light and with a crisp mind the trail looked completely different than I remembered. The angle of the sun highlighted the texture of canyon walls making them dynamic and three dimensional. Their brownish-red rock was accented by the rich yellows and oranges of turning cottonwood trees growing along the river below.

Saddle Horse Tower (HDR)



Future Arch (HDR)



Cottonwood Tree (HDR)



We made good time to Mineral Bottom, where I stopped to set up a wind streamer in the landing zone. I had pondered the idea of launching off the cliff directly above Mineral Bottom Road as it snaked up the canyon, but decided it wasn’t tall enough for a comfortable safety margin. At the normal spot if something did go wrong, I’d have almost twice the altitude and therefore more time to get out my reserve chute or gain control of the glider. The only hitch of the morning was when harness bag slipped out of the straps securing it to the roof of my truck and fell just in front of my rear tire. Luckily it missed my harness, but my helmet wasn’t so lucky. It was crushed. I scored that helmet in the Bargain Basement of the Sierra Trading Post in Cody, WY marked down to $25 bucks from $190. It had served me well over the years and I was sad to see its career ended by such a careless mistake on my part.

An Undignified End of Years of Service





I dug out my cycling helmet (better than nothing, right!), then Jon and I carried my glider out to the cliff. The air was perfectly still, but my nerves were restless. I’m not sure why, but I was a little more anxious this time than I have felt in the past. I took my time setting up and pre-flighting the glider and tried to dispel my anxiety by focusing on safety. I had set up the glider and gone over the glider the night before, which I always do to give me two chances to catch anything astray.

Setting Up



Jonny V. Next to my Glider



Our time budgeting was perfect and the front of the group pedaled into Mineral Bottom just as I finished my pre-flight. They assembled in Mineral Bottom next to my streamer and waited for the stragglers to catch up. As I stood on the edge of the towering 1000 foot tall cliff, the people below were nothing more than tiny specs. I yelled down, but the only answer was my voice echoing back off the canyon walls a full half second later. My anxiety only grew stronger as the moment that I was equally excited for and terrified of approached. Fearful thoughts bombarded me like machine gun bullets. “What if I don’t pull off a clean launch? What if I trip? What if something fails? What it if I can’t get my reserve chute out?” And on and on and on.

“Enough!” I though. “A little fear is normal when hucking off a 1000 foot cliff, but I really have nothing to be that scared of.” It was time to calm my nerves, trust in my experience and equipment, observe the conditions, and launch if I wanted to. I focused on clearing my head and not having my judgment or decision making influenced by the desire to fly or any self-imposed pressure from having an audience below. As a policy I never commit to launch until my foot lifts for the first step. The first step today would be a doosy as I planned on doing a no-stepper. A no-stepper is where I walk out to the edge of the cliff and simply step off. In calm winds the normal technique Jeff, Adam, and I have used is to run off, taking a few steps. If there is no rotor on the cliff, or cliff-suck, either technique is acceptable, but the no-stepper feels more dramatic. After you step off the glider is deeply stalled and the feeling of acceleration is heightened as you freefall from zero to flying in an instant. After pulling out from the dive, good energy management is key to prevent the glider from zooming upward into a whip stall.

With the full group assembled below I hooked into the glider and readied for the flight. Jon gave me a hang check then took his position with the camera on the ledge adjacent to me. I got a wind report from the LZ below over the radio and assessed the conditions on launch. The streamer that I had set up extending out off the edge of cliff was limp indicating calm air. This agreed with the streamer on my nose wires. The conditions were a go!

The Group Below



Hooked In



By now all of my anxiety and fear were gone. I was completely focused on the task at hand. As I picked up the glider and stepped out to the edge, the rock below my feet gave way to the ground looming 1000 feet below. I stopped with about 12 inches left and paused briefly to enjoy the moment. Even though the cliff is only 1000 feet tall, I felt like I was standing on top of the world. I was 100% alive! Right now nothing else in the universe mattered except for the next 30 seconds. It was time.

Enjoying the Moment



As I took the last step out to the edge, time slowed down. The few pebbles that crumbled down from the ledge seemed float rather than fall into the abyss below. The conditions were still calm. I visualized my dive, took a deep breath and stepped off. The rush of air and speed was immediate and exhilarating. Muscle memory took over as I simultaneously maintained positive pitch pressure, transitioned to the base bar one hand at a time and kicked into my harness. Wanting to preserve my altitude I eased the bar out slowly going what felt like vertical, then bleed off my pitch into a shallow slipping left turn. In an instant it was over. I was clear of the edge, flying at trim speed straight and level away from the cliff.

Launch Sequence











I looking down at the group below, I let out a yell and visualized the next phase of my flight. I turned right and flew on that heading until I was directly over the group. When overhead at about 700 feet I entered two steep wing-overs rolling out on a heading away from the group behind a butte. I continued away from the group to set up for a high speed pass over the butte. When my altitude was right I pulled in and dove at the small butte. As my speed built in the still morning air the pressure on the bar increased. Soon I had it buried as deep as it would go, making careful bank corrections to avoid entering PIO’s (pilot induced oscillations). From below the butte blocked sight of me so all the group could hear was the “swoosh” of a speeding glider. With my sound preceding me, I swooped over the butte to the cheers of the group below. Then I entered another set of wing-overs rolling out on downwind.

Flying in the Canyon













I entered a left downwind for a landing in the direction of the cliff. I would have a slight tailwind, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t run out. After dipping my feet on the butte on the far side of Mineral Bottom I turned base and kicked upright. I rolled out on final in the middle of the sandy flat. Everything was set up for a perfect landing and then I got greedy.

Kicking the Butte



The group was gathered on the road to my right. I had good speed and thought maybe I had enough energy to extend my flight path and land right in front of them. It was a poor judgment on my part and I now I realize why so many people auger in during spot landing contests. I settled into ground effect and glided until I was next to the group. When I was abeam them I could have simply flared and called it a day, but instead I continued down the path of destruction. I turned towards the group, rolling wings level before the turn was complete resulting in a skidding turn that was burning energy fast. I was confident that if I flared hard and ran I still had enough left for clean landing. I flared with all my might, but it was too late. There was nothing left. I couldn’t get my feet out from under me in time and settled gently into the soft sand. The only thing hurt was my pride and a broken downtube. It was the first downtube I’ve broken in 4 years, but the pictures were spectacular.

Base



Final



Got Greedy and Turned



Flaring Hard



Down in a Dust Cloud of Glory



Good Thing I Won a Free Down Tube at King Mountain



Jo, who knew that wasn’t a normal landing, ran out to see if I was okay. I picked myself up, dusted myself off, and gave her a kiss. Nobody in the group had ever seen hang gliding up close and when they asked me if that was how I always landed I was tempted to say “Yup, it sure is!”

Victory

With the drama of my flight over the group shifted focus to the climb that lay ahead of them. The climb up Mineral Bottom is a “climber’s climb” with a consistent and steep grade, but not so steep you go anaerobic. As I broke down my broken glider they trickled off up the climb. In no time Jon had arrived in the Tacoma and we loaded up.

At the top of the climb Chris and Josh shuttled the riders back to their cars at the staging area. Ben who was riding the Superfly, along with Nick, Jacki, Jo, and Patty opted to ride the rest of the way on Mineral Bottom road. The 15 miles on Mineral Bottom road back to 313? is a continuous false flat, gaining almost 2000 feet. In 2005 I started the loop at the park entrance so this was the last part of the ride. The sun had long ago set and it was cold, very cold. I had run out of food, water, and was wearing all of my warm clothing to no avail. I was completely cracked and in survival mode. It was all I could do to turn the pedals over slowly, very slowly. Then I had a vision. It was Adam standing in the dark next to a Juniper Tree holding a homemade chocolate cake. I looked away in disbelief until he nonchalantly said in his South African accent “Hey man, I baked this for you.” It was as caviler as if I had just walked into his kitchen. I was overcome by joy and dug into the cake without remorse. I felt like Popeye after a fresh can of spinach and finished the ride like a man.

Jon and I were the last ones out of Mineral Bottom and we caught everyone who was still riding about half way to 313. The shallow climb is insidious and relentless, but the Phoenix crew was fairing much better than I did that night in 2005. Jon and I didn’t have any chocolate cake to offer them, but I did take a few pictures.

Patty and Jo "Enjoying" Mineral Bottom Road









Ben and Nick Doing the Same



When we got back to the staging area most of the group was packed up and ready to head back to Colorado. I started breaking down the truck rack and loading the hang glider back into its tube. Nick, Ben, Jo, and Patty rolled into the staging area just in time for mutual goodbyes and the trip was over.

Jo and Patty Finishing



Nick



Ben

(he wanted to make it even harder, so he ran the last 4 miles)



I won’t write a long winded conclusion about the trip, the long winded posts preceding this one have said enough. It was a great trip, fun was had by all, and no one got hurt. What more could we ask for? We were loaded up and on the road by 2:00pm. Unfortunately, there was a bit of key fiasco with the Phoenix Mobile which delayed us a bit, but that resulted in one last dinner together in Grand Junction. The drive after that was hell (as it always is), Jo and I pulled into our driveway just after midnight.

My Trophy on the Way Home