President's Prerogative
The deal is done. All that remains is to put signature to paper and we will be official tenants at Front Royal Airport beginning the 15th of December (Actually we will be moving equipment into the new T-hangars on the 12th and 13th but will begin paying rent on the 15th.). We will not, however, be moving everything into the hangars right away. After its last fiight, the ASK is going into its box for a trip to Pennsylvania for its annual and a touch up. Miss Daisy will go on her newly painted trailer so she can be taken around to various places paint and repairs; and, after towing the Sprite to Front Royal, the Pawnee will be flown to North Carolina for its annual and a new engine.

It is hard to believe that we will be leaving New Market after such a long and successful run but, once everyone gets comfortable with our new field, I believe we will find that it has its own house thermals and ridge runs that are equal to New Market. It will also have some things that New Market does not have like paved hangar floors and doors that open with a flick of a switch instead of a shove that sometimes ends with scrapped and bruised hands. No more frozen pins and doors, no more floods and no reason to worry about nesting or pooping birds.

None of this could have happened without a lot of work by Spencer Annear, Jim Kellett and Kevin Fleet. As chairman of the airport committee, Spencer spent hours in meetings with the airport management and pouring over leases, addendums and memoranda making sure we got everything we wanted and were fully protected. In addition to meeting with the airport management Jim and Kevin spent hours measuring hangars, drawing diagrams and cutting out airplanes to figure out how everything will fit. And, finally, we should thank Dave Brunner for taking on the task of organizing and supervising the move. He has already sorted, boxed and labeled all that stuff we are not quite sure of but must have a purpose that is stacked in and around the cabinet and work bench.

We should be able to begin informal operations in January when equipment will begin to return (assuming the weather cooperates). But until then we have some flying yet to do, a Christmas party to attend on the 12th and a happy holiday season to celebrate with our families and loved ones.-Joe Rees

Christmas Party
Saturday, December 12th at 7pm. Come join together in our annual potluck party at Lee and Linn Buell's house in Herndon, Virginia. Linn will have wine, beer, and soft drinks. Bring your food, high test drink and good cheer to share with all your fellow members and their families. Lots of good soaring stories....many of them even true!

So plan now to come on out and thoroughly ENJOY!

[Directions snipped from website to prevent creeps on the Internet from stalking our party host]

See you later, Alligator...
At the board meeting on Nov. 14, it was decided to make the move from 8W2 to FRR on the last weekend of club operations-Dec. 12-13. The board also decided to ask the Skyline Class of 1998 to spearhead the effort, and Dave Brunner has accepted our invitation to lead the weekend's activities.

Even if you're not one of the wunderkinden from the Class of 1998, your efforts on Dec. 12-13 are still needed and welcome.

The details are up to Brunner & Co., but the big picture is that the 2-33 will go on the club trailer to winter over at John Ayer's and/or Shane's for painting; the ASK-21 will go into its trailer for wintering over at =46red's; the Pawnee and the Sprite will be flown to FRR and put into our brand new hangars. We'll have a couple of utility trailers available to move the other stuff such as the cabinet, tables, dollies, etc.

Again, I'll leave the details to Dave, but please do try to make room in your schedule for at least one of these two weekend days. Expect to hear more from him as the days draw nearer.-Joe Parrish Pack up your troubles in your old kit bag and smile, smile, smile... Looking at the Logistics of the move, 75% of the stuff has already been boxed up and labeled:

• Fluids (container 10% full),
• Rags and Paint
• Tools (Including Bill's Trolley Jack)
• Spare aircraft parts
• Plastic Sheeting (I guess we leave the stuff up in the roof?)
• Electrical items (Spare batteries, electrical iron, electrical tools)
• Oxygen / Barograph
• Picnic Stuff!

We have a whole bunch of old tires and tubes-- I need advice as to whether to keep or dispose of: a whole bunch of steel plates (springs?).

• If it looks like junk I'm trying not to pack it.
• If its 90% empty-it goes (unless I'm told otherwise)
• If it looks so broke I don't think I could fix it it goes in the trash.
• If its yours and you want it, then come and get it!!!!
• If you don't and you don't tell me otherwise-I may trash it! (Language

specialists may notice the over use of the word 'it' in this paragraph-- live with IT!)

Weekend 5th and 6th -Normal Operations-weather permitting. We need to get both the 2-33 and the Sprite up to FRR, having only one trailer means either 2 trips or a tow/flight up there. I am happy for Kevin to try and fly the 1-36 up (down?) to FRR during this weekend-if he makes it.. great, if he doesn't then it can be retrieved, taken to FRR (assuming we have someplace to put it) and the trailer returned to New Market for the 2-33 to be moved the following week.

Friday 11th, will be the final OPS Day with Chief Weekday Weenie Jim taking charge.

Weekend of 12th and 13th: No club operations, all hands on deck to clear out! I would like to see all the aircraft away by Saturday evening (but realizing that this is our evening Holiday get together, we will stop around 4pm to give everyone a chance to get spruced up for the 'do' at Linn's place.

• Aircraft:
• ASK-Fred to take on trailer on the Saturday
• Sprite-(If still at New Market) to be towed to FRR, and tied-down
• Pawnee-if towing the Sprite, can remain parked at FRR (we need transport to get pilots back to New Market)
• 2-33-to be put on the trailer Who is taking it to Shanes???
• Jim and Bela to tow their planes sometime between now and then
• 1-26 group have a tie-down at New Market for as long as needed.
• Tow Car-Deep Lake? Fire? Whatever-- we remove Battery, Starter and Plugs!
• My guess is we park it next to Linda's junk and leave it!
• Boxed Items-Hope to have everything boxed by Saturday Night-need a pick-up to transport.
• Work-Bench(es)-Need to decide which ones to keep and transportation arrangements.
• Big Items-BBQ Kerosene Heater Mower (Does this work??? Do we need it???)

I would like to get everything done by Saturday afternoon that will allow a daylight walk around on the Sunday as a final check, or as extra time if we have bad weather, foul ups etc
-David Brunner

My first flight

John D. Lewis

The first time I flew, I was perhaps 6 or 7 years old. It's hard to say ju= st how old I was at the time. It occurred years before I actually boarded an airplane. But I remember it very clearly. I was seated at my grandfather's feet, in front of the fireplace in his home. It was, I'm sure, a Saturday evening and the fire was burning warmly. I had been playing on the floor w= ith dominos, building towers, then knocking them down. Little boy's play. I don't recall how my grandfather got started on it. But I do remember the scenes, the images that my grandfather drew up in my young mind. Images of brave men flying dangerous missions over enemy lines. Images of great biplanes. Images of the trees, the villages, and the snow-capped mountains passing far below. Vivid images, as vivid as the images from any flight can ever be.

My grandfather had been a pilot in the First World War. He had volunteered out of architecture school at the University of Pennsylvania to join LaGuardia, "The Little Flower," who was forming a squadron of American pilots. They would fly Caproni CA3 bombers in Allied Italy's fight against the Axis Austrians. He had gone to flight school in Indiana, then on to Milano and Foggia in Italy, where his squadron was based.

Granddaddy's stories were always rich, bringing brilliant and colorful images to my young mind. Each story had its own images, its own character. There was the story of how they would be flying along, when the pilot would take the big biplane up into a climb, bringing it very near a stall. I didn't know then what a stall was, but I knew that it was dangerous and that only brave men would even attempt it. Just when the air became still, the co-pilot would cup his hands and quickly light up a cigar. The pilot would then pitch the nose down, averting the stall, able to share a good smoke.

At times, the stories took unexpected turns. Like how he and his squadron mates went to see a town that the Italian army had liberated from the retreating Austrians. His squadron had previously bombed the rail yard in that town, and they wanted to see the results of their work. As they walked by the rail yard, they were approached by a wide eyed little boy who recognized them as pilots by their attire. The boy apparently spoke some broken English, because he asked them "You fly?" When they answered him, the boy asked "You fly here?", indicating that he had seen them above his town. When they had again answered the boy, he turned an accusing finger at them and said "You kill my mama". Then he turned and ran away, leaving my grandfather and his friends with a painful appreciation of the results of their work over that small town. My grandfather's eye filled with tears when he told this story, which I heard only once.

Then there was my grandfather's favorite story, one he told repeatedly, each time getting better than the last. He told of how the war against the Austrians had been largely successful. The planes, LaGuardia had told them, were needed on the Western Front in the fight against the Germans. But the Alps had never been flown across in powered aircraft. So he and five other pilots volunteered to take three planes across the Alps. The flight was treacherous, but eventually they crossed the Alps and landed safely in France. My mental images of the adventure were bolstered by a photograph he'd taken during the flight. (He had been an amateur photographer during the war and had many wonderful photographs). This particular photograph was taken from the open cockpit, looking down between the wings and through the struts and wires. On the last strut was tied a small American flag, which was flapping wildly in the wind. Below the wings you see the jagged snow-covered peaks of the Alps.

Lest the reader miss it, there's a moral here. Too often I believe, we don't tell our flying stories. Or we reserve our stories for other pilots, believing that others either don't care or just wouldn't understand. That's a sad error. The truth is that anyone with an imagination can understand and enjoy flying. Particularly the little ones, who's mind's thirst for adventures such as ours, they understand. They know what flight is about. They just need the stories to help them to see it. I'm thankful to my grandfather for his stories it's because of these stories then that I'm learning to fly today.
-John D. Lewis

Stall/spin on approach:
When the student is ready, the teacher appears
The Student writes: It seems everyone is talking about the above subject at the moment from the newsgroup to Soaring magazine.

Everyone seems to have a view about how to avoid such an occurrence. In soaring recently it seems a multiplier of L/D should be used.

The net result for me is I'm unsure exactly how fast to fly the pattern in the Sprite to avoid becoming another statistic. On calm days I have been flying at 55mph and with more of a headwind, 60mph. Is this correct? On two occasions I landed at about 70mph which resulted in me bouncing and achieving two landings for the price of one.

Thanks in advance for your help, but please don't reply with complicated algebraic formulas. Simple rule of thumb with sample speeds based on various headwinds would be perfect.
-Gary Shepherd

The Teacher responds: Good question.
Use the recommended no-wind pattern speed from the aircraft's flight manual, plus half of the wind speed. This is a fairly universal formula and is the one that is recognized by the FAA. In lieu of an official endorsement by the manufacturer and/or the FAA, I would be reluctant to apply the L/D formulas that are bouncing around on rec.aviation.soaring and Soaring.

There have been some questions about how to incorporate gusts into the formula. I assume that a gust will hit me at the worst possible moment and plan my approach speed as if the max gust is the "wind speed". So, for a glider with a 50 knot no-wind pattern speed and a day that is 10 knots gusting to 20 knots, I would use 50 knots + (0.5 * 20 knots) =3D 60 knots. Unlike powered aircraft, you are expected to maintain pattern speed until you begin your flare.

I don't have the manuals here in front of me, but I believe the no-wind pattern speeds for the 1-36 and 2-33 are 55 mph, and the ASK-21 is 49 knots (yellow triangle).
-Joe Parrish

P.S. I find that aileron responsiveness in the ASK-21 is better at 55 knots than at 49 knots, so I tend to fly patterns in the ASK at that airspeed or above. Once the wind speed is enough to bring the recommended pattern speed above 55 knots, I revert to the formula shown above. I work hard to nail the approach speed on every landing, thinking that when the chips are down and you are putting the ship into a short field, you will almost certainly revert to the speed that you most frequently use.

Looking for a Unique Christmas Present?
The great Norwegian classic "The Golden Gospel" (Det Gyldne Evangelium) is now available directly from the publisher (me) at a special price, only $ 20 ea, or wholesale in lots of 8 at $ 15 each. The illustrated book was written by my grandfather, Gabriel Scott, author of some 60 novels and four feature movies, and has been published in several countries. It was recently expertly translated (by me) for the US market. This book is popular with readers of all ages and would make an excellent gift for any occasion. Hardbound, 267 pages, ISBN 82-91674-08-6. Printed in Norway. -Jan Scott (540) 822-5504

Log this...

• Thinking about buying a glider?-Maybe you're tired of waiting for a club ship or want something different. If so let me know. I have worked out a document on how to go about looking for and selecting a glider based on my experiences during the past winter. Now is the time to look, lots of nice ships showing up all the time in the places I graze. .-Richard Freytag freytag@freytag.org
  
• Soaring Pioneer Peter Riedel passed away on November 6th. He was 93. Malcolm Gardner -Ruobing and I moved over the Thanksgiving holiday. Our new address is:
  [snipped from website to prevent evil stalkers from the Internet]
• John Lewis writes- Friend and business partner (and long-out-of-the-cockpit power pilot) Marty Mayfield & son Andrew (age 16) have apparently enjoyed their to weekends down at 8W2 enough to seriously consider joining. They may join this Spring, though Marty said they may go ahead an sign on now. Someone mentioned a "family membership" to Marty, though he wasn't clear on the details. Can anybody address this one for me? If Marty joins, what's the discount for son Andrew?

Membership Guy Joe Parrish responds-This topic was addressed at the board of directors meeting on Oct. 17. The board agreed to change the existing policy (which was that family members do not pay initiation fees, but do pay monthly dues) to state that family members pay no additional initiation fees or monthly dues. In effect, there is no additional cost to add a family member, and essentially a full (individual) membership is applicable to the entire household.

Kellett responds: The club operations manual will be updated to reflect this new policy. Please feel free to identify the new policy when marketing the club to new member prospects. This has obvious benefits for existing members such as th= e
Buells, Otises, Cordovas, etc., along with prospects such as the Mayfields. Be of Good Cheer friend, it's to a much better place we go-We're going to an airport with a luxurious air conditioned place for meetings and for the family and friends to sit, food service at the airport on weekends, much smaller lights on the paved runway, luxurious hangars, closer (and downwind!) to the ridge, built-in towpilots (the manager of the airport wants to tow for us and is already on our insurance!), and a community that welcomes us with open arms (the Chairman of the local airport commission is an ex-glider flight instructor and DPE who is thinking about joining the Club!) God closes one door and opens another

Three Diamonds from the Blue Ridge Mountains in a Schweizer 1-26.
A Chronicle in Two Parts by Bill Vickland (238)

Since 1975, Dudley Mattson (074) has been the primary motivating force encouraging Bob Collier (289) and me to fly the Blue Ridge Mountains, both for the fun of soaring and to achieve all three Diamond legs on the Blue Ridge Mountains in a 1-26. It was our mutual goal to earn our diamonds in our own backyard. Between Dudley, Bob and myself, we must have logged 50 or 60 such attempts. With the completion of the Diamond Altitude flight on March 24, 1996 I have the good fortune of earning all three diamonds as Dudley had planned it. Because Dudley has retired from soaring, and has sold his beloved "Redwing" (074), I find it fitting to pass on to the soaring community, the description of the Diamond Distance flight completed in 1986 in which Dudley played a significant part.

On my third try in 1986, I completed 317 miles in eight hours to complete the Diamond Distance. It didn't happen the way I planned it, and on at least two occasions during the flight, I thought I was going to have to land, and was even hoping I could.

The morning of April 17 was not unlike many of the days that we flew together before Dudley moved to California. My alarm went off at 5:30, and I laid back down saying to myself, "Is it worth it to travel 65 miles to =46ront Royal, Virginia, to endure the cold, assemble the ship, take off and then land out in some farm yard in the rolling Virginia landscape. This morning, I almost thought I heard the phone ring, thinking that Dudley was calling as I fought to get up. I jumped up almost reaching for the phone as I realized that it couldn't be Dudley calling. More or less awake now, I dragged myself into the shower to facilitate the awakening pro cess. At 6:00 A.M., I called Bob to make certain that he was up and on the way.

Enroute to Front Royal Virginia, Joan slept in the back of the van as I recalled our many trips over this course. The day was dawning as I drove down the hill on route 55 where it enters Front Royal after crossing the Blue Ridge Mountains. From the vantage point on the Blue Ridge to the east of Front Royal, I could see across the valley between the Blue Ridge and the Massanutten Range ten miles west. The visibility was clear even beyond the Massanutten to the Allegheny range. The solid dark green Massanutten range stood out clearly against the backdrop of the Shenandoah Valley which surrounds it on all sides. The placement of the 45 mile long mountain ridge in the middle of the Shenandoah Valley, between the Allegheny and Blue Ridge Mountains, forms one of the most beautiful soaring ridges in the country. Unconnected to any other mountain ridges in the middle of the valley, the Massanutten range provides great ridge soaring coupled with the safety provided by the numerous fields available for outlandings. However, because it stands alone out in the middle of the valley ten miles or more from either the Blue Ridge to the east or the Allegheny range to the west, it also presents some difficulty in putting together a task that can add up to a Diamond Goal or Diamond Distance flight.

The wind was 310 degrees at 23 knots, which is nearly perfect for the ridge. The wind was blowing right up the side of the ridge, it was not too strong to present a danger, and not too strong as to destroy the thermal activity necessary to cross the open valley and to cross those sections of the Blue Ridge that continue to terrify me today.

My flight would start at the north end of the Massanutten over Strasburg Virginia. I would fly the ridge at high speed to the south end, turn around to return to the north end, where a thermal would pick me up and let me soar comfortably downwind for 12 miles, where I would contact the Blue Ridge and race 55 miles north to the Pennsylvania border. I would then speed south past Front Royal to a little mountain peak south of Elkton, Virginia which I could identify only as "Peak 2741." (The number is merely the elevation printed on the sectional.) I selected the peak because it was next to the valley floor and I because when I completed my declaration, I was concerned that I would not be able to fly above the 4000 foot mountain ridge to take a turn point photo higher up on the ridge. I would then drift three miles back to the mountain ridge and proceed speedily back to Front Royal to complete the task in five hours, at an average speed of 50 or 60 mph. What a dreamer.

Joan and I had nearly completed the assembly of 238 when Bob Collier arrived at 8:00. It seemed like an eternity before we completed our assembly and declaration procedures, and Bob finally launched at about 10:05. I launched 20 minutes later and released over Strasburg, my remote start point, at 10:25 A.M. He was moving quickly, reporting that he was cruising at 75 knots 100 to 200 feet above the ridge and could not get down to ridge top without shaking the ship apart. It was an ideal ridge day.

After releasing at 3700 MSL, I put the nose down and drove rapidly down the ridge. At 2300 MSL, contacted the cushion of the ridge and began to press the ship down to fly at ridge top. The airspeed quickly moved up to the 70 to 80 knot range as I began to press to catch Bob. For brief periods, I could hold 85 knots just 50 feet above the ridge top, but the turbulence and oil can noises were so great I backed off to a relatively smoother 70 to 75 knot speed.

Nearing Mt Jackson, 15 miles south, I did not bother to slow down and climb with the ridge line as it increased in elevation just before the one mile forward jump to the face of Mt Jackson. I was optimistic that I could make the jump and continue racing along after I made the jump. It was a decision that scared the day light out of me for a few moments. Mt Jackson is higher than the prior section of ridge by 400 to 500 feet, so that when I completed the jump forward, I was well down the side of the ridge. Any ridge pilot would tell your that the lift is decidedly reduced that far down from the top. I immediately felt the softening lift, and I instinctively scanned the valley floor beyond the two mile tree line for a possible landing site. I had slowed to 50 kts, a minimum safe airspeed considering the turbulence, and began to pray that I would not end this flight so soon. I rationalized that I had done this stupid trick once befor= e and recovered, and that I would recover my position at the ridge top again. Gradually, the ship began to lift at about 50 feet per minute, and I watched rocks and trees ahead to confirm that I was going to be OK.

Almost as quickly as I got myself into this situation, it ended. A strong section in one of the gullies set off my audio, and I instinctively turned directly into the wind. Using a technique Dudley had pioneered, I slowed to 35 knots practically standing still over the trees, climbing in smooth lift to 300 or 400 feet over the ridge. I could have continued to circle and climb in the thermal that extended above the ridge, but I had to make some speed if this task was to be completed before the thermals quit at the end of the day. I promised myself that next time I would spend a little extra time climbing up ridge line before I made that jump forward.

I resumed warp speed and at the south end of Mt Jackson, I jumped downwind again and continued the high speed run toward the south end of the Massanutten Ridge, my first turnpoint. The Shenandoah Valley to my right was clear and green with the numerous farms and villages. I talked to Bob, monitoring his progress ahead of me. Frequent position reports confirmed that I was not gaining on him. Soon he reported reaching the turn point at the south end and was returning. We would have to watch out for each other as we sped around the mountain curves.

Soon, I saw Bob's all white 289 closing on me at better than 150 knots and at only 100 feet above me. We passed with hardly enough time for a wing waggle. I made a mental note that watching another glider at close range in the air is one of the fantastic sights that only sailplane pilots are privileged to see. Watching Bob zip past was doubly rewarding for me because I knew that I would be covering that same ground in a few minutes.

At the south end of the Massenutten Ridge I repeated my earlier stupid move. I instead of slowing up to find a thermal or just gain some altitude above the ridge to take my turn-point photo, I kept the nose down at high speed and banked around the rock slide at the end of the ridge 50 feet below ridge top. My rationale this time was that the section that I just came through was strong, and after I took my turn point photo and completed a 270 degree turn back to the north, the ridge lift would pick me up again. I pointed my wing upward at the lookout tower and snapped my picture. Actually, the photo showed only the bottom ten feet of the tower, and a lot of rock slide. The usual downdraft associated with the end of the ridge line was not strong, but it was present as always.

I turned to make my 270 degree turn to the right and resume my flight back toward the north end of the Massanutten. From the vantage point of the south end of the Massanutten range, I could see in all directions. In the short time taken for the turn, I could look east to see my final turn point of the day across the Shenandoah Valley in the Blue Ridge Mountains to the east. I would arrive there in about seven and a half hours. I got a quick glance to the south overlooking Lexington, Virginia, and then a quick look west again as I turned to the north to retrace my last 45 miles. On completing the 270 degree turn, I was again well below the ridge top and cruising very slowly to regain altitude. Gradually I climbed back to the good lift and resumed my high speed run. The one mile jump forward at Mt Jackson was aided by good thermals and was otherwise uneventful.

I call ed Bob on the radio several times and got no response. I could hear him calling me but it was obvious that he was not hearing me. He reported reaching the north end of the Massanutten and was thermalling at 200 fpm while drifting downwind to the Blue Ridge. Another attempt to contact him failed, as I heard him tell my crew that I must have gone down at the south end of the Massanutten. I realized that my battery was weak because I could receive fairly well but could not transmit.

About five miles short of the north end of the Massanutten, I contacted a powerhouse thermal created by the funnelling of air up a gorge created by the meandering Shenandoah river on the valley floor. This house thermal is located just opposite the Strasburg Reservoir which is nestled between the two ridges of the Massanutten. I started at better than 400 fpm, and rather than circling, I turned into the wind and slowed to about 32 knots. I climbed in almost silk smooth air reminiscent of wave. I remained stationary as I climbed the first 1000 feet, and once well above the ridge, I began to circle and drift back over the double ridge formation at that end of the Massanutten. I reached 5000 feet as I drifted downwind toward the Blue Ridge Mountains to a position directly over Front Royal Airport. I had completed the trip down the Massanutten and back to Front Royal, a little over 90 miles, in one hour and 20 minutes, at an average speed of almost 70 miles per hour.

I could see my rainbow colored=20van on the Front Royal Airport parking lot 5000 feet below me, and I was pleased that Joan did not act on Bob's advise to drive around to the south end of the Massanutten to see if she could make radio contact with me. I was no longer hearing Bob, and I learned later that he landed out about 12 miles north of Front Royal where highway 50 crosses the Blue Ridge.

This section of the Blue Ridge Mountains in the first 20 miles north of Front Royal is clearly the toughest. The first twelve miles from Highway 55 to Highway 50 has a gradual slope up to 2300 MSL which would sustain lift except that several 500 foot high "moguls" right at the valley edge disturb the laminar flow over the Blue Ridge and break up the ridge lift. The slope is not the best in the world, and it takes a lot of pucker power to fly that section at ridge top. The next eight miles of ridge is better shaped, but the four miles of trees between ridge top and the valley floor conspire to create a sense of insecurity, or is it "terror." In all of the flights over this section, we have made numerous landings in postage size spots that were the only escape valve if the ridge lift did not work. If the ridge lift was not working, the usual technique was to slide down the ridge line to about 500 feet above the valley floor where we could catch a "gully thermal". That would carry me back up the ridge at an altitude of about 200 feet above the trees on the gradual slope below. In sort of a saw tooth pattern, I could make my way across this difficult section. However, the security of prior successes was not aiding my confidence in trying to use the ridge lift. I opted to use the thermals although I was certain that in doing so my progress would be slowed and the probability would be increased that I would not make the complete trip before sundown.

With the thermals working, I was content to slow the pace a little and stay well above the ridge top. Good thermals at 250 to 300 fpm carried me to a point 30 miles north of Front Royal and just south of Harpers Ferry where the Shenandoah and Potomac Rivers merge just below the ridge. The ridge is only 600 or 800 feet above the suburban development and poses the most dangerous section to cross if the wind should quit. Immediately north of Harpers Ferry, the ridge is good solid ridge and landing fields abound. North of the river I returned to the ridge tops (2900 msl) in ridge lift mode, and began to cruise at 55 to 60 knots.

Five miles north of Harpers Ferry the front ridge of the Blue Ridge Mountains disappears and I had to jump back two miles to the Short Hills ridge. It is an easy jump going north, but poses some problems going south. I insured the transition by taking a thermal off of the ridge and circled half way across the valley. With a comfortable glide angle, I dove downward more gently than before, but making good speed as I contacted the small ridge peak at the Middletown microwave tower. This is the jumping off point to make the jump forward as we fly south. North of the Middletown microwave tower the ridge has some areas that are not well defined, and look very iffy. However, I don't think that either Dudley, Bob or I, in all of our flights, have ever had any difficulty in this areas of the ridge, if the wind was blowing at least 15 knots.

I was a little nervous as I crossed the area east of an elevated reservoir near I-70. It always scares me because there is no discernable ridge, but for some reason the lift continues as though there is. The trip north for the remaining 15 miles to the microwave tower at Fort Ritchie was a smooth 65 knot cruise.

By the time I reached the microwave tower overlooking the Pennsylvania line, the sky was solid overcast and the cockpit temperature had dropped to the mid 30s. The tower is located on the peak of High Rock Mountain, and the ridge line to the north is along the front or windward side of the peak and in front of the tower. However, on the south side the ridge line is behind the tower forming sort of an "S" turn. This means that the point just north of the tower where I was to take my turn point photo is on the back side of the ridge in the sink. The thermal activity had ceased, and I could climb to an altitude of only 50 feet above the top of the ridge, and the top of the tower was still above me. I did not dare cross over the ridge line to the north to take my photo for fear of having the downdraft prematurely terminate my flight while I complete a 270 degree turn necessary to take my turn point photo.

After playing around the area for several minutes, I gained enough altitude to climb above the height of the tower. By flying around the tower counterclockwise, I could remain on the windward side of the ridge longer and stay in the ridge lift until I was on the northeast side. With enough speed and altitude above the tower, I could circle to the left, snap my picture and cross over onto the windward side without spending too much time in sink. It worked, but when I finished my turn, I encountered strong lift that lifted me another 200 feet into a snow shower. Not being certain of my picture, I circled again, this time shooting my picture straight down just to the north of the tower.

It was now 1:30 and I had completed 165 miles in 3 hours, with 35 miles of it in thermals rather than ridge lift. I began to worry that I was not making the speed necessary to finish before the thermals would end, probably around 4:30. (To be continued)

Be sure to tune in next issue when we hear our intrepid pilot calmly exclaim "Mercy!!.. was that a 16-wheeler at my altitude?!