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 Flights
a Beach
By Jake McGill
Nov 4, 2001
5:30am Ok. enough laying
around in bed. Off to the computer. OK, let's see check the restaurant planning
site. Good, there are some helpful posts here. OK check the ppg and org lists.
Not much new here...how about email, "hey Jake I can be there at 9:00, you
in?" hmmm. Weather was crappy yesterday.
Still dark but can see lots of
clouds. Hmmm check the weather site, Marshfield looks promising. And I haven't
flown in two weeks. Done deal. "yeah Pete see you there at 9:00".
The usual discussion with Lynn about all the chores that need to be done but
thankfully she relents. After all I'll be back by 12, 1 at the latest.
8:00 to the garage. Break down the A3, and pack into the car. Stop for coffee.
Drive like a madman.
9:05 and Pete is taking his machine out of the truck. Set up the windsock,
assemble the machine, play with the wing. Wind 350-005 at 6. Pretty steady
coming right down the beach. Nice.
Gas up, preflight. Ready for warm-up on the car mat.
I'm getting the hang of the primer. Wait for the bulb to fully re-fill before
pressing again. To save the battery I have Pete hold the machine while I pull
start it. 3-4 pulls and she lights up. 5 minutes for warm-up and shut her down.
Check to make sure Pete is moving along with his set up. Looks good. Wind
steadies at 350, looks like we can launch right from the parking lot. Cool, no
sand in the wing.
Hook-in (remember to put the left carabineer in the upper loop to off-set motor
torque. Right over left with ˝ right twist. All looks good. CLEAR. Starts right
up. Wait 30 sec for a nice breeze. A's in right have throttle in left. Here we
go. The pink wing comes to attention overhead and awaits its instructions.
Turn, 5 steps and we are off. Nice climb rate. Maybe I don't really need the A4
cage and prop?) Up over the dunes and out over the water at 50 feet.
 We
spend the next 1 ˝ hours skimming waves, waving at passers by, taking pictures,
and generally drinking in a crisp fall day at the beach. Glove are at the ready
but I can't take pictures with gloves on. Oh well I'll live.
We take turns leading each other around. We're like two kids with a hundred
dollars in quarters at the penny arcade. I keep tabs on the fuel with my trusty
mirror. Down to 2 liters, probably shouldn't stray much farther.
We fly over the river in the marshland. The fisherman and sportsmen crane their
neck to see what (not who) we are. Everyone waves and I return every one. What a
gas.
The breaking waves 5 feet below my feet turn green then white as they crash into
the sand and rock beach. There's no roar. Just the hmm of the motor that makes
it past my ear plugs. I look to my left and Pete is grinning ear to ear his
boots are 2 feet above the pale sand. Seagulls spread out before and under us as
we climb out.
1 liter left. I signal my wing-man. We circle to return to base.
Pete lands first. I couldn't bring myself to set down. One more time around. As
I circle to line up with the wind, I pass over a house in the dunes. I cut it a
little closer than normal but a nudge on the breaks and I pass safely over the
roof. As I do, a man on the "widow's walk" snaps what should be a
spectacular picture of a rather insane person attached to a huge piece of pink
cloth and wearing a leaf blower on his back. I'd love to be a fly on the wall
when he shows this picture to his friends and attempts to describe the scene.
I line up to land, drop out of the seat, kill the engine. pick my spot, glide
in, breaks, breaks, lightly step to the ground. Turn and place the wing
down. Main Ignition switch off, sit down. Unbuckle. Gather the wing. 
I hold my urge to let out a yell
since Pete is patiently answering all the standard questions for an onlooker.
Can it get any better than this flight? I took off about 90 minutes ago and the
whole thing was magic. The sky, the sun, the waves, the sand, the people, the
boats the colored wings, the sea. Sometimes when you do this thing you feel like
you are parched and need a drink and the only thing you get to do is sip that
cool drink through a very thin straw. You have to live from one sip to the next.
Always thinking how sweet it would be to gulp and gush and let the cool drink
run down your chin. How wonderful it is to finally take a long deep drink and
not stop until you are truly done. If I hadn't used all my fuel (there was maybe
a pint left in the tank) I would have had to land anyway to give my arms a
little rest. I was full and it was
great...
Now to fuel up and do it again!
By the way, the second flight was as goods as the first! Well actually better
cause this time I wore my gloves. |
