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!”
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
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
1 comment:
wow..
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