Outlanding stories

So, this gets me to wondering, "What's the worst (best?) landout
count for a single day." I'll admit to a two-bagger twice in my
career. Seems hard to believe that there could be more than two...

First prize should factor in # of landouts and total distance. I'll
have to check my old logbooks but I'm pretty sure I've got a two-bagger
with less than 20 total miles (possibly a lot less) from a rained-out
1-26 Nationals in Richmond, Indiana back in the '60s. Bonus points for
landing in the same field more than once in a day: I haven't done it
but I know it's not unprecedented.

Chip Bearden
ASW 24 "JB"

I'm surprised they didn't ask for your driver's license - I found it to
be SOP for aircraft incidents.

Brian wrote:
One of my favorites was in my 1-26 I touched down and came to a stop
just in a field just across the road from a convienence store. Got out
walked across the street and bought myselft a sandwich and a pop to
enjoy while I wanted for my trailer to show up. I had been parked in
the feild for about 45 minutes when an police car showed up. The office
got out and asked me if I was the pilot and if anyone was hurt. After
telling him I was the pilot and there were no injuries he went back to
his car and radioed to cancel the Fire engines and Ambulance, Which
showed up about 3 minutes later anyway because they wanted to see what
was going on. After explaining to them that I had just made a normal
landing and waiting for my crew they all went back to there vehicals to
figure out how to write their reports about responding to guy eating
lunch while sitting in a field with a glider

Ramy Yanetz wrote:
I heard of someone landed out AFTER going thru the finish gate...

I believe that was Pete Newgard, many years ago at Minden. We could ask
him (he lives in Washington state now), but what I remember is he was
distracted/delayed in the pattern by other finishers or something
happening on the runway, got too low, and landed in a nearby field.


--
Change "netto" to "net" to email me directly

Eric Greenwell
Washington State
USA

From New Zealand.
I was competing in a regional contest on a 300km task. Five of us ended up
landing in the same field on a dairy farm 2 hr drive from the airfield we
took off from. After landing the wife of the dairy farmer came walking down
the stock race to see us with her two young kids. One four and the other 6.
She said she was inside the house and the kids where in the front yard when
suddenly the youngest came runing into the house and starting shouting
excititly that there is a plane landing in their field. She looked out but
couldn't see what the fuss was about and as she hadn't heard any aeroplane
engine she thought the kid was playing a game. She sent the little one out
side again and a couple of minutes later she was back inside saying another
plane was landing. Same story again. She looked and didn't hear the engine.
All five of us where pretty low by the time we had made the decision to land
and all arrived one after the other into the field. We where visible while
approaching but disappeared behind some trees into the field so everytime
the Wife looked out she couldn't see anything. By the time I landed last,
the kid was just wandering into the house to annouce in a rather bored voice
that another plane had landed in their field.
The wife then decided to take a short walk to get a better view and was
rather surprised to find 5 gliders parked right where the child had been
pointing the whole time. We all got invited back to the house for a beer.
Which we all partook in. Then ended up having a barbecue dinner with the
family while waiting for the crews. The husband decided we needed more beers
as we had depleted his meagre supply, so jumped into his truck and shot of
into town to the local tavern to get more cans. The tavern he walked into
had one of our fellow competitors in it waiting for his crew. Seemily he was
standing at the bar with a beer in one hand and a local wench under the
other arm and a small crowd of locals listening to his prowess as a glider
pilot defying the odds and the elements to make it this far in his state of
the art weapon. He had landed on the other side of this little village from
us on his way to the final turnpoint. Our farmer said that a whole bunch of
guys had landed on his place. When our intrepid pilot asked where that was,
he laughed lustily and annouced to the listening throng that he would win
the day as he had gotten farther than us. When informed by the farmer that
we had all rounded the turnpoint and we where heading home he had to admit
he may have been a little hasty with the scoring. That gave us all a great
laugh when the farmer relayed all this on his return with the beers. So by
the time the crews showed up we where pretty tanked. My wife who was my crew
at the time took along time to forgive me after I had enjoyed a nice
barbecue dinner with dessert and drinks and the best we could get her on the
way home was a cold service station pie.

On Tue, 25 Oct 2005 18:18:27 UTC, "Papa3"
wrote:

So, this gets me to wondering, "What's the worst (best?) landout count
for a single day." I'll admit to a two-bagger twice in my career.
Seems hard to believe that there could be more than two...

Borders GC in Northumberland started off winching T21's at the ex RAF
base in Milfield (approximately 12 feet above where the club is now!).
The trick , apparently, was to launch into a north westerly, then
immediately head downwind to Doddington crags three or four miles
away, arriving rather low. If they were working, you spent half an
hour climbing to get just sufficient height for a straight in return.
If not ... you landed at the bottom and the glider was derigged and
returned by road.

T21's have struts and wires and big heavy wings. I am told that the
record - a triumph of hope over experience - was derigging the same
glider, in the same field, six times in one day.

No wonder they embraced aerotowing.

Ian

Mac, I'll call him Mac 'cause that's his name :-), had just gotten his
HP14 and wanted to get some landing practice by doing a couple of 2000
ft tows. I guess that there must have been some miscommunication with
the tow pilot who assumed a 3000 ft tow. Normally, the tow pilot will
deliver the glider to a point such that when the glider releases the
glider will be in gliding range of the airport. On a 3000 ft tow, the
tow plane may venture farther from the field, during the climb, and then
return to release at the proper point - and this is what happened here.
When Mac released at 2000 and turned away from the tow plane, he
realized where he was and how far away from the airport he was and knew
that if he didn't find any lift, he wouldn't make it back to the field.
He didn't and he didn't. Mac made a very nice off-field landing in a
plowed field next to a road.

After landing, Mac had to hike a mile or so to the farm house where he
called for a crew to come with a trailer. When he returned to the glider
he found a bright orange parking ticket from the Hollis NH police
department stuck on his canopy. Now, Mac was not in a good mood.
Although off-field landings are expected and accepted during cross
country soaring, to land out during a local flight generally means that
you screwed up. Mac had screwed up and knew it, and he knew that his
peers would know it too. So when he saw the parking ticket, .....well,
it did not improve his mood.

In due time the crew and trailer arrived and while they were stowing the
glider a cruiser pulled up. Mac grabbed the ticket and threw it at the
officer with the message that the ticket was for a motor vehicle
violation and that the sailplane was not a motor vehicle and that he
would not accept the ticket. The cop smiled, took Macs name and address
and left.

When the glider was almost packed away, another car pulled up and a lady
got out and started asking questions. Only after Mac had completed the
story did he note that she was writing everything down.

"Say, are you by any chance a reporter?"

"Oh, yes, I'm with the Nashua Telegraph."

Great!

It must have been a slow news day because the story made page one. The
story was so offbeat that the wire services picked it up and now every
glider pilot in the country knew that Mac had screwed up. As a final
insult, at Macs EAA chapter annual awards banquet, a new category had
been established - the most parking tickets issued to an aircraft. Mac won.

Tony V.

In article ,
Tony Verhulst wrote:

Mac, I'll call him Mac 'cause that's his name :-), had just gotten his
HP14 and wanted to get some landing practice by doing a couple of 2000
ft tows. I guess that there must have been some miscommunication with
the tow pilot who assumed a 3000 ft tow. Normally, the tow pilot will
deliver the glider to a point such that when the glider releases the
glider will be in gliding range of the airport. On a 3000 ft tow, the
tow plane may venture farther from the field, during the climb, and then
return to release at the proper point - and this is what happened here.

Gosh. What was the tow plane?? Isn't the HP14 close to a 40:1 glider?

I'm used to a Pawnee climbing straight out from the airfield with a Grob
or Janus two-up behind and *always* being within gliding range of the
airfield. Normal climb is about 600 fpm at 65 knots, or about 11:1.
Back in the old days those gliders behind a 180 HP supercub would only
get maybe 300 fpm but that's still 22:1 while they glide at over 35:1.
I do recall the practise back then (with the lower-performance Blanik on
the back) was to do maybe a half or three-quarters orbit overhead the
field before heading out, but straight out was fine after that.

--
Bruce | 41.1670S | \ spoken | -+-
Hoult | 174.8263E | /\ here. | ----------O----------

Some years ago some buddies and I were reconoitering
for a really long flight passing through the Wurtsboro area.
I kinda forgot the map and kinda wasn't watching what time
it was (just follow the ridge, then turn around, but shoulda
turned around sooner). Bummer, its dark and the wind
stopped, made a nice landing on a gorgeous golf course,
and taxied off to the edge by some condos. Hadn't even
got out of the cockpit when I'm approached by a couple
toting their wine glasses and horse douvers.

"Hi !" they say.
"Hi ! Where am I ?" sez me.
"New Joisey" sez they.
"New Jersey ?!!" I exclaim.
"Whazza madda, youze got sompin against New Joisey !" exclaims the
large man menacingly !
"Why no, some of my best friends are from New Jersey ! But, I kinda
thought I was in a different state"...
And all was well and I got treated to nice wine and hourse douvers and
was in the bag by the time my crew arrived and took half an hour to
convince the gate-keeper to let him in...

See ya, Dave

This is the short version of this story - I won't tell you the sad story
of my stolen tow vehicle. One Labor Day I decided to do a cross-country
flight. My wife had her parents and aunt and uncle visiting, and at the
field to view the excitement. I managed to make perhaps 5 miles before I
landed.

I walked over to the farm house, where they were having a family brunch.
I was invited to eat, said no thanks since I'd already had a huge
breakfast, but was convinced to join anyway. Meanwhile, my wife borrowed
a vehicle from the airport owner, and had to figure out how to hook the
trailer up. Her father ended up on the ground changing the ball, while
my wife started fuming. She was even happier when she got into the car -
typical airport car that's barely street legal. Finally, everything was
set up, everybody loaded in the car, and they set off.

I was having a fine time, and was asked if I could help out getting the
pies from the house for dessert. As I was coming out the front door with
the farmer's daughter, my wife drove up the drive way. She was still
steaming - had no sense of humor about this. Her family was having a
great adventure. And I'm still embaresed about my 2nd shortest
cross-country flight.

Steve

OK, I'll bite.

If 5 miles was your second shortest, what was the shortest ?

Rope break on a ground launch ? That doesn't count!

Doug



And I'm still embaresed about my 2nd shortest
cross-country flight.

Steve