Hilton Cup(1 of 2)

Somewhere Out There

or "A Standard Libelle Wins the Hilton Cup"

You know you're a hard core cross country glider pilot when:

· Spreadsheet features suddenly become important as you start figuring Great Circle task distances. Co-workers marvel at your newly acquired number crunching skills.

· A notebook-size copy of the CG-18 WAC is in your briefcase at all times. Idle time in meetings is put to good use reviewing the topography of 750 km triangles.

· Seating on commercial flights is dictated by which side of the plane has a view of the southern and central Nevada desert on the way to and from San Francisco International. Your travel agent dismisses you as "different".

My wife of a few months, Genese, suspected this behavior may not be just a one time occurrence. We had known each other less than two years, but she and Sally (her dog) had already logged thousands of highway miles chasing me and 9J (our 201B Libelle) across the southern Sierra Nevada and Utah. We had since moved up to San Francisco from Santa Barbara, so the summer flying would be out of either Truckee or Minden.

But it was mid-November 1992, and next summer seemed SO far away. We needed a goal, something to give focus to the idle winter hours. Several National Standard Class distance records seemed possible. But what about the Hilton Cup? I thought surely someone must have already flown a 500+ miler. Much to our surprise, NO ONE from the Western Area (West USA, Mexico, Central America, South America) had sent in even one entry to date.

Not one to let opportunity slip by, I asked Genese if she would be interested in trying to win the Cup with me. I explained that each Area winner (and a guest!) is invited to Barron Hilton's Ranch for ten days in the summer, all expenses paid, along with other winners from around the world, the current World champs and a few celebrity pilots. Accounts of other Hilton Cup winners told of "a pilot's crew lying around the pool eating strawberries." Genese's response: "I like it!, I LIKE IT! And you know John (her stepfather) would want to help crew with us". We may or may not win the "Cup", but we were in for a great time trying!

The next few months were spent working on 9J, refurbishing the instruments and installing a new, 7 watt ICOM A200 radio. I figured the old 4 watt Genave needed replacing, and besides, the extra power would be reassuring when I'm miles into central Nevada. The A200 is an exact half height size replacement for the Genave, but it's a bit deeper. I hadn't anticipated the higher demand on my batteries though. An 8 hour flight with the new radio on pretty much drains my Gel Cells, but I got around this by rigging up a solar cell input and turning off the radio during the peak of the day. A minor inconvenience, considering that the A200 is priced at less than half of comparable "glider specific" radios. A PZL and Rico with audio for varios, a compass, airspeed, altimeter, and voltmeter round out 9J's instrument panel.

Just as important as preparing the plane was understanding the FAI rules and developing a strategy. The last time I documented a flight was 16 years earlier when I flew my Gold badge flight in a 1-26, so I knew there was much that I didn't know. I found the quickest and simplest way to come up to speed was to buy and read Jackie Payne's "Badge and Record Book". Highly recommended. Not only does it cover rules and procedures, but also techniques, planning considerations and sample checklists. Documentation may be a necessary evil, but reading this book is sure a lot less painful than having a flight denied.

A major question was where to fly from. Initially we chose Truckee Airport (5900' MSL). Truckee is a biz jet quality airport with the glider operations on the North end of the property. "Soar Truckee" also has great staff and is closest to San Francisco. Surrounded by mountains, it's easy to slip east into the Carson Valley, but difficult to get back into late in the day. Getting back into Truckee from the southeast (where all of our flights were planned) requires a route that could put me three miles out over (cold) Lake Tahoe. Another choice was to take a low tow from Truckee, hop over the ridge and make Carson City Airport the start & finish point. Carson City Airport is 1200' lower and is much easier to reach late in the day. Later in the summer we would eventually be flying out of world famous Douglas County Airport, next to the town of Minden. Douglas County Airport is also easier to get into when returning from southeasterly flights.

The other major issue was how far to fly? The expected Cup contenders most likely would be flying 15 meter class or newer Standard class ships. Past Hilton Cup winners flew Ventus and ASW-20's, posting flights in the 500 - 640 mile range. Accounting for the Standard Libelle's handicap, we figured a minimum distance of at least 430 miles to be a contender. Considering that my furthest flight to date was 315 miles, we thought it best not to tell anyone lest we be laughed off the flight line. So the strategy was to start with reasonable distances and build up to a 400 - 450 mile flight. I knew I'd have to make a number of attempts, but what a great way to spend a summer!

The Warm-up

Saturday, June 19, 1993 - Work and other events conspired against us, so this is the first weekend we could fly out of Truckee. Although cool for this time of year, it’s a fabulous day. Four other pilots, one flying out of Truckee and three from Minden, are to make 1000K flights today. For us, this is a practice day. You know, get the new systems checked out and get acclimated to mountain flying again. My friend Marc Ramsay in his newly acquired DG-101G, decides to fly locally too. Cloudbase was 15,000 ft., but further south on the Whites people were squawking about 17,000+ ft. Marc and I chase each other from Mt. Rose to the Carson Valley, then up north toward Sierravillle and back to Mt. Rose. The cool air, 100 mile views and 10+ knot thermals again become refreshingly familiar. Thunderstorms over the Pine Nuts Mountains (east of Minden) and Pyramid Lake (N of Reno) threaten, but never really move toward us.

Marc and I circle near cloudbase at Mt. Rose when I think it best to practice a final glide into Truckee as if I was returning from the Carson Valley. Meaning "how spooked will I be when I'm way out over the Lake?". Also, where are the landing spots? So I cruise out from under my cloud into the blue and head south toward Spooner's Summit on the east side of Lake Tahoe. Spooner's Summit is 20 miles southeast of Truckee airport and is more or less in line with Brockway pass (7179 ft. MSL) a low point in the mountains immediately surrounding Truckee. I've not often flown right to the edge of the Lake, but it's an impressive sight. Deep blue overall, with a trace of blue-green in the shallow shore waters. The Lake spreads out 20 miles long and 10 miles wide, but visually, it seems much bigger.

Banking over Spooner's at 11,000 ft. I dial in a 75 mph cruise and enjoy the view. I'm a little apprehensive going out over the Lake, but the winds seem light and the sink hasn't been bad all day. The glide itself is uneventful. Two golf courses look landable, and maybe the shoreline if I'm desperate. I remind myself just to have plenty of altitude and leave it at that. Later I'd be glad to have made this practice glide.

A Week in the Mountains

Friday, July 2 - Team Izuno arrives in Truckee for a week of distance flying. Genese, John, Sally and I are ready for some adventure. We figure early to mid-July to be the best chance for strong weather along with long days. Unfortunately, a cool northerly flow keeps a lid on heating for the first part of the week. This weather also dogs the opening of the Region 11 championships just over the ridge at Douglas County Airport. I expect most of the Regional's tasks to be to the southeast, along the east side of the Sierras down to the Whites. This is the same area I expect to cover as well. We're not flying in the contest, but I'm hopeful that the other ships will act as markers for me.

Saturday's forecast reflects the cool north wind, with forecast heights only to 13,000 ft. MSL and no cu. I intend to fly locally for a few hours, but the thermals are very turbulent and one-sided; very winter-like. Forty minutes into the flight and I'm suddenly very motion sick from being battered about. This has happened before and taking a Maalox tablet or two sometimes helps. This episode is particularly bad, requiring extra concentration to just maintain coordinated flight. The Maalox doesn't help and I'm back on the ground in short order. My hands and feet are very cold, not from the altitude, but from the nausea. At that moment, the thought of more flying is very unappealing. Genese wisely suggests that we take the next day off. The weather cooperates and stays poor. The next day we go and see Jurassic Park. I feel better.

Monday's forecast shows slight improvement, but no cu. I feel the need to get some miles in. I declare a Diamond Goal flight from Truckee to Hawthorne and return. 18 gallons of water into 9J, take the pictures, and I tow off at 11:30am. The first thermal is 3 - 4 knots over a rocky area east of the airport. It's smooth as we go up to 10,000 ft. MSL. Relieved that I'm not feeling ill, 9J and I head east over the ridge line defining the Truckee valley, and along the north rim of Lake Tahoe. Across the Carson Valley, I work a couple 2 - 4 knot thermals, then head south along the Pine Nuts. My plan is to stick with the high ground, hopping across valleys to Mt. Grant, cruise out to Hawthorne, and repeat my path home. Simple, right?

Skimming over the sagebrush-covered mesa just west of the Hilton (Flying "M") Ranch, I'm getting worried that I haven't hit a bit of lift for the last 20 miles. It's 1:30pm. For the next hour and a half I struggle to get out of the valley that, ironically, we hope to visit next summer. The Ranch's jet quality strip is clearly visible; I'll land there if I have to. I radio a message to a pilot flying around Truckee to relay to my crew telling them to head this way. Up a thousand, down a thousand. Finally I claw my way up Mt. Grant until I'm even with the peak. I'm tired.

At this point I realize that I could make the turn, but I'd be stuck there. So I head NW on a straight line to the Pine Nuts, departing Mt. Grant at 11,000 ft. MSL. It's 4:00pm, hot and sunny, but there isn't a gust as I end a dead flat glide with a landing at Farias Wheel airport, 35 miles from Mt. Grant. It's 90° F+ on the ground, but the air is absolutely still. Lester Farias graciously lets me use his phone. Lester's son remarks, "Is there a contest or something? You're the third glider here in two days!" I acknowledge his observation. In a few minutes, Genese, John and Sally drive up. I feel lucky for having made it as far as I did. The Regionals had several landouts that day too. Total distance: 140 miles.

Back to Truckee, we try again Wednesday. This time the weather looks good, with strong thermals forecast and cloudbase at 16,000+ ft. On a good weekend, the Truckee flight line can be a dozen ships deep before 11am. On this weekday, however, there are only two other ships, yet the blue air has the right amount of haze and warmth. It "feels" like a good day. We declare a 338 mile Diamond distance flight to the Bishop radio towers and return. Launching at 12:15pm, I hustle over to the Pine Nuts where I can see cu far to the south on the Whites. I never cease to be amazed that on a good day you can see ahead for over 100 miles. It sure makes for easy navigation.

Abeam of Farias, cu start forming from Mt. Patterson to the Whites. I tell Genese and John to hold at Minden. It looks so good, I'm confident I'll make it down and back at least to Minden. Climbing in 8 knots east of Mt. Patterson, I hear the "pack" from the Regionals moving south, too. A well defined street has now formed directly on course. Cruising at 80 - 90 mph, I fly straight ahead under a 17,000 ft. street, pulling up in 6 knots or more, but otherwise just enjoying the sheer pleasure of cruising under a strong street.

Halfway to the Whites, the whistling of the air is broken by a low frequency, thunder-like rumble. The ship reverberates from one, then another sharp report. My body tenses up. Thunder? Impossible. The clouds aren't nearly to overdevelopment. Sonic boom? I'm not near an MOA. Then another sharp BLAST from my left side. I look east and not 5 miles way I see a third, fourth, and fifth blast flash at the R-4811 ammunition testing area. Enormous clouds of dense, boiling dust perhaps a thousand yards across rise from the desert floor. A few seconds after each blast, a concussion wave hits the ship like a fist whacking my wing. It's fascinating, seeing this atmospheric amoebae grow and change shape while it blows skyward at 15 - 20 knots. It's just like those film clips of the 1950's A-bomb tests.

Coming up on the North end of the Whites the street continues, but more broken once I'm on the ridge. Down to the radio towers, I take my picture from 15,000 ft. Actually, five pictures, to be sure. Rolling out heading North, I'm suddenly surrounded by what seem like a dozen hang gliders. The Whites are very popular amongst the foot launch crowd and this week there's a hang glider contest going on. As a Regional's pilot put it, "it was like flying through a swarm of gnats". I escape with no "bug splats".

Off the North end at 18,000 ft. I see by the cloud shadows that the street I came in on is breaking up. It's 4:15pm and the day has peaked. So far the flight has been very straightforward, but I realize I've been flying too comfortably. I have to be more aggressive if I'm to get back into Truckee. Cruise speeds have been a conservative 80 - 90 mph, but now I force myself to run with the speed ring and cruise at 105 - 115 mph. Soon, I'm back in the Carson Valley. I radio Genese and John to head back to Truckee, while I hope to find something to get me high enough for final glide.

The only cloud left is a ragged, roll cloud look-alike directly over downtown Minden. I've been watching this cloud for the past 30 minutes, expecting it to disappear like the others, but it holds a constant shape and size. A DG-400 circling underneath radios me that the cloud is indeed acting like a roll cloud. Wave is not too unusual during the summer, but I had not anticipated it at all. I slide in several thousand feet underneath the cloud's leading edge and, after a choppy climb, I'm level with the cloud at 12,000 ft. Guessing this is wave, I steer north in 0 - 1 knot lift, paralleling the ridge on Lake Tahoe's east side. Judging by the crab angle to maintain my ground track, the wind is 25 - 35 mph at altitude.

At Spooner's Summit, with just under 13,000 ft. in hand, I point the nose towards Brockway Summit and head out over the Lake. It's intimidating, heading out over the Lake like this but hey, I've done this before, right? There are no clouds, only a setting sun ahead. I call Genese and announce confidently that I've got Truckee made. Once again, I forget that proclamations like this invoke Soaring Voodoo Law #1: Radioed ambitions lead to opposite results. Not 5 seconds later I suddenly lose 2,000 ft. in 10 knot sink about a mile offshore. Ugh. My stomach knots up and I quickly fiddle with the final glide calculator. The sink dissipates but the calculator says I'm only on a 30:1 slope. And I've got a 15 mph headwind. By now I'm almost over the north shore. Genese calls again to check on me. She later tells me she knew I ran into sink; it was in my voice.

Intently searching for any clue of lift, I see several glints of light straight ahead along the mountainside. I blink and strain to see.....yes.....I can't believe it......a bunch of hang gliders tacking back & forth in front of a rocky spine that runs from the north shore up the mountainside towards Mt. Rose. Banking gently towards them, I fly not 200 ft. over the highest one and gain several hundred feet in a couple of passes. I accelerate and scoot over Brockway Summit with a couple hundred feet to spare watching the traffic below. Of course, once in the Truckee Valley, I hit a 8 knot thermal two miles from the airport. I cruise around the valley for a few minutes while Genese and John get to the airport, dump my water, and land at 6:45pm. Wow! Two Diamonds in one flight. We celebrate that night with a big dinner at a Tahoe City German restaurant.

On Friday, we feel ready for a Hilton triangle attempt. The forecast is similar to Wednesday: a westerly flow with strong lift but drier. We declare Carson City Airport, Tonopah, Mammoth Lake Lodge and return for 399 miles. Up at 11:45am, I average 50 mph in dry thermals to R-4811. The clouds start there and run east to the horizon. No streeting, but bases are at 19,000+ ft., spaced about ten to fifteen miles apart. By now I'm comfortable with higher cruise speeds and zoom along at 110 - 120 mph between lift. From R-4811 to Tonopah Airport to the Whites I average over 80 mph. I feel great! But ......a sprint does not necessarily a race make.........

The last cloud is over the north end of the Whites, then it's all blue to the second turn. The day is dying much faster than Wednesday. I hear several Regional pilots trying to climb out of the Bridgeport valley. Bridgeport is still over 85 miles away on my last leg. Not a good sign. This last cloud gives me 17,500 ft. As expected, it's a dead flat glide 40 miles to the lodge. I get the feeling I'm not going to make it back. My last picture is from less than 1,500 ft. above the lodge and I figure out it's survival mode time. Genese and John have been patiently waiting at the Mono Lake Visitors center in Lee Vining. I alert them that I'll try to make the Lee Vining airport.

A couple miles west of the lodge lies a deep canyon with a west facing side. This canyon forms the east border of the Ansel Adams Wilderness Area, a rugged area where the only way in (or out) is on foot. The east edge of this canyon is perhaps a few hundred feet higher than the lodge, but rises to the north. With the west wind, I figure I can at least explore the lift on the canyon face and still be able to get out to the east or (if I really blow it) to the west. Beating back & forth along the rocky slopes I gain a hundred feet on each cycle and move further north up the canyon. Half the time I'm flying in the lengthening shadow of 13,143 ft. Mt. Ritter to the west, reminding me that it's getting late. This is some of the most beautiful mountain scenery in the country, but I remember little more than the color and texture of the canyon slope. Persistence pays off with a successful leap over to the June Lake area and a short glide to the Lee Vining Airport. Whew.

Strategy change

Sunday, July 18 - We're back at Truckee, this time looking to do Carson City Airport, Gabbs, Benton and return. The forecast is for 8 - 10 knot thermals to 16 - 17,000 ft. over the high ground. The last flight to Lee Vining makes me believe I need to be more aggressive in the early part of the flight. After an 11:45am launch I zip over to take my start picture, feeling confident that all I need to make the distance is a fast start. To make a long story short, I gradually lose altitude and wind up in the (agricultural) Yerington valley scraping along at a thousand feet for over an hour. Meantime, high cu started building to the south of me, but they're too far away. I'm doomed to land in this valley.

After resigning myself to land, I aim for the Yerington Airport, but it's west of me about 6 miles and there are some low hills between here and there. At 1,000 ft. AGL I pick a plowed field halfway as an alternate. A little sink speeds up the decision process. I'm right next to the low hills at 500 ft. AGL setting up my pattern when I look right below me and see an Aircoupe in a ranch yard. The dirt strip took a moment to discern but I’m right over the end of it! Whew, I'll just enter my downwind now and land. As I turn onto downwind with my gear down, I hit a 2 knot thermal. I take one circle to check it out and it's good to 1,200 ft. AGL. I'll never forget seeing how close my shadow was on the ground as I climbed out. Relieved, I look forward to landing at Yerington airport, now four miles away. But more is yet to come.

As I approach the airport, something doesn't look right. There are the airplanes, there are the hangars, there's the road in, but....dang!....where's the runway? Where I expect a runway, I see road graders, dump trucks, and other earth moving equipment parked alongside enormous asphalt piles and busted up concrete. Lucky Yerington, they received a state grant to rebuild their runway! I radio Unicom of my taxiway landing, hoping someone doesn't decide to takeoff right then. Rolling to a stop next to the gas pumps, a Mooney fires up and taxis out. Time: 2:15pm. I've had enough thrills for one day.

As I await Genese's arrival, I bake in the 92° F+ heat sitting next to the ship watching the cu. Streets are forming southeast from the Carson Valley with bases above 16,000 ft. I listen to some of the 18 ships heading out from Minden on a safari to their first stop at Tonopah. I sit, fuming at this lost opportunity. Ok, I ask myself, what can we learn from our flying so far this season?:

· I was probably pushing just about right (until today) in the early part of my flights.

· There is a corridor from Minden to west of R-4811 (roughly following the state border), where the lift follows the high ground. This corridor seems to be the most reliable way in and out of the Carson Valley. Cu generally form in this area. So far this season, I have not seen one cu east of Mt. Grant except for FAR to the east, just about on the horizon. From the south end of this corridor the area of lift spreads south down the Sierras/Whites and east to Tonopah and beyond.

· Change the triangle direction. The Sierras and the western area often die earlier in the day due to the cool west wind washing out thermals, as I experienced first hand before landing at Lee Vining. Therefore, fly counter clockwise triangles so I'm coming from an easterly direction late in the day.

· Launch from Minden. The Carson Valley foothills seem to start cooking almost at the same time as the mountains around Truckee. Getting back late in the day is easier too.

We drop 9J at the Douglas County Airport and head home. Most of the drive home is spent thinking about these strategy changes. It's now over halfway through the season and there are only three or four more available weekends that we can fly. We're getting anxious.

Next - Part 2: Two Cup FlightsHilton Cup(2 of2)