Across Nevada and Part Way Back (long)

David Grah
The flight had been arranged for Wednesday out of my home airport at Bishop,
California, but the weather didn't look good enough that day for the flight
I hoped for. The weather forecast looked better on Thursday, 10 July 2003,
so, the flight would be that day. The main impact of the change in days was
that flying Thursday rather than Wednesday I had to land within about 200
miles of Bishop or I'd be on my own for the retrieve. If I had flown on
Wednesday the plan would have been for me to fly as far as I could that day,
with a retrieve tow back to Bishop the next day.

Although the weather certainly looked better on Thursday that Wednesday it
still didn't look great to me. I figured the soaring conditions might be
better later in the day so I aimed for a bit later of a start than I might
have otherwise.

I took off from Bishop Airport at 1245 in my H301 Libelle behind my friend
Jeff Thompson's 150 horsepower Cessna 150. Right from the start of the tow
good lift seemed to be abundant. I released east of the airport at 6,700
feet and quickly centered on the first good thermal of the day. I climbed
to about 12,000 feet and headed north up the White Mountains. Right after
the tow Jeff landed to do some errands and to pack up for our overnight
excursion. He planned to be back in the air about 1530.

During the climb I reported to Jeff that the conditions looked good. A
glider flying a 1000 kilometer flight out of Inyokern that day (Zero Zero
Echo) was approaching Bishop and we talked briefly about the weather and our
respective flights. As it turns out Zero Zero Echo had a pretty good radio
and he was good enough to relay key messages between Jeff and I later in the
day.

Although lift was good flying north up the White Mountains, I reached
Montgomery Peak, the most prominent peak at the north end of the Whites,
about 45 minutes after take off and about even with its top at a bit over
13,000 feet. A street of good looking cumulus clouds was forming east of
the Whites and a few puffs were starting to form further to the northeast in
the direction I hoped to fly. A few miles east of Montgomery Peak near
Basalt I contacted excellent lift under some nice cumulus clouds there. I
climbed in this lift to above 17,900 feet and then continued northeast
flying at my 45 mile per hour minimum sink speed under the good clouds. I
topped out at 17,900 feet at the base of the clouds a few miles north of
Miller Mountain. Ahead, the cumulus puffs were growing more numerous.

From Miller Mountain I flew over Mina and then detoured a bit to fly over
Pilot Peak. I made a good climb here and could look ahead to a few good
clouds forming on the Toiyabe Range near Arc Dome and Hadley. In what had
been blue beyond the Tioyabe's cumulus puffs began to form. As I flew on
toward the Tioyabe's I had a minute or two of concern whether or not I would
find lift to clear them but as I approached the range, I found good lift and
climbed again to over 17,900 feet near Arc Dome. From here the best clouds
continued northeast across the Big Smokey Valley toward Eureka. Another
smaller branch of clouds and puffs continued more northerly toward Austin
with some puffs continuing on a path toward Battle Mountain. I headed on
the major branch toward Eureka. I hadn't flown my glider over Eureka before
and flying over Eureka was one of the things I hoped to do on this flight.
In addition, the Eureka airport was the last paved airport in the direction
of my flight still within 200 miles of Bishop.

The clouds over the Big Smokey Valley provided some good lift and a couple
of climbs topping out at 17,900 feet, but began to dissipate as I passed
north of the large dry lake in the middle of the valley. Soon the lift was
gone, the variometer was pegged down and I was flying on at the 108 mile per
hour rough air red line of my Libelle. The sink continued on and on and
finally, turned to moderate lift a few miles southwest of Summit Mountain at
the north end of the Monitor Range and at about 12,500 feet. Here I climbed
a thousand feet or so and then the lift seemed to disappear and I started
down again. Back down to about 12,500 feet and a mile or so northeast of
Summit Mountain I again found moderate lift and climbed to almost 18,000
feet and high enough to continue on Eureka and beyond.

During the climb Zero Zero Echo relayed to me that Jeff had left Bishop
headed for fuel at Tonopah. I use a panel mounted handheld radio in my
glider so it took repeated transmissions for Zero Zero Echo to understand I
was nearing Eureka, 195 miles out of Bishop. Zero Zero Echo was good enough
to take the time to understand my message and to pass it on to Jeff who
couldn't hear me at all.

On my way to Eureka I could see the line of best clouds passed over Eureka
and continued northeast. Another branch of clouds was forming northwest of
and parallel to my course and seemed to be reaching for the Ruby Mountains.
Flying along the Ruby Mountains was another thing I hoped to do on the
flight so that forming branch of clouds was mighty inviting. Still the best
clouds by far headed past Eureka and further on east of the Ruby's. It
seemed pretty clear I could go the furthest with the best clouds so that is
the way I headed. Except for some clouds near Ely and the 10 or 20 mile
wide corridor of clouds I was following, skies were mostly blue with no
clouds over the middle of Nevada. This course seemed to be the best one to
take today.

I passed over the Eureka airport at about 1615 and 16,000 feet. The plan
that developed in my mind was to continue on following the clouds to the
northeast until 1730, and then turn around a head back hoping to get at
least to Eureka and to a paved airport within 200 miles of Bishop. I could
see the clouds continued on way into the distant northeast and considered
just continuing as far as I could and leaving the retrieve to my own
devises, but I decided otherwise.

On drives and plane trips across Nevada I had always admired the Diamond
Mountains east of Eureka so yet another thing I wanted to do on the flight
was to fly this range. In a mixed blessing I passed by more than a mile
over its top so couldn't enjoy it much.

The clouds over the next range east, sort of a southern extension of the
Ruby Mountains, looked really good and formed a continuous cloud street
extending thirty or forty miles to the northeast. I reached them and flew
on in good lift at minimum sink speed only circling in the strongest lift.
Soon I was at 17,900 feet at the base of these clouds, the highest I have
ever been in purely thermal lift. The Ruby's were 30 or so miles to the
northwest and I could see there was only a puff or two of cloud along these
mountains. I was high enough to easily make it back to Eureka.

I was also high enough to hear Jeff calling me every few minutes as he
climbed out of Tonopah but at first he couldn't hear me respond. After a
while Jeff could hear my return calls, but not well. I was reporting to
Jeff that I was near Currie but at first Jeff heard it as being near
Currant. A few calls back and forth and we straightened it out. He would
head for Eureka.

As I reached the northeast end of the good clouds virga was starting to
fall. I could see well formed widely scattered cumulus ahead 10 or 15 miles
on the other side of the virga and the blue beyond that. It was about 1700.
As I flew clear of the virga and into the blue on the other side I found
strong sink. Flying through the sink I soon lost enough altitude that I
couldn't glide back to Eureka any more but I could still make it on to
Wendover Utah about 50 miles ahead. I flew on, northeast bound, at rough
air redline, rapidly loosing altitude. A few miles short of the well formed
clouds I saw a scrap of cloud forming a mile or so northwest of my course.
I was aware it was getting later in the day and I was aware of my commitment
to Jeff to try to get back to Eureka for our tow home the next day. The
good clouds ahead looked great but were far enough apart that I was
concerned that if I didn't find lift under the first one and if there was
sink between that cloud and the next one, that I could a struggle to get
back to Eureka. I diverted over to the scrap and found moderate lift.
After what seemed to be a long time the lift started to drop well off. I
was at 17,900 feet and it was a little after 1730. I was about 295 miles
out of Bishop.

The clouds a few miles ahead to the northeast still looked great and I could
see a beautiful cloud street passing over Wendover and continuing north.
Beyond that as far as I could see into Idaho were more well formed cumulus
clouds. It would have been easy to fly well into Idaho and maybe as far as
Wyoming. If these conditions had only existed the day before when
everything was in place for me to fly as far as I could straight out!

The sink wasn't so bad heading back to the excellent cloud street where I
had gotten so high a while before. The clouds still worked well, though not
quite as strong as they had before, and seemed to continue almost all the
way to Eureka. Scattered cumulus continued on beyond Eureka back toward
Bishop.

A little more than halfway back to Eureka from my turn around point, at
about 17,900 feet and with good clouds between me and Eureka, I entered
strong sink and sped up to rough air redline again in response. I should
have been more than high enough to make it to Eureka though the sink was
certainly stronger than my glide computer card accounted for. There were
good clouds ahead between my position and Eureka. I was pretty sure the
sink would end soon and I could climb again under the good clouds and
continue on to Eureka and beyond, but I continued down.

At about this time Jeff arrived at Eureka to land, wait for me, and get
fuel. A few minutes after Jeff landed, the Fixed Base Operator (FBO) at the
Eureka airport called my up on 123.300 even though it was after 1800 by this
time. It took me a call or so to figure out that he was calling me and for
me to respond. He passed his microphone to Jeff and Jeff asked me if I
thought I'd make it as far as Eureka. I replied that I was sure that I
would and, based on the look of the clouds ahead, expected to go
substantially further.

All the while I continued to sink. I could judge my glide angle by sighting
between the top of the Diamond Mountains and the fields and features in the
valley north of Eureka. Although my glide card showed I still had plenty of
altitude to make it to Eureka, sighting between the ridge of the mountains
and the valley clearly showed that often in the stronger sink I was loosing
ground on a glide over the ridge. The valley east of Eureka valley had a
large dry lake that appeared to be good for landing and towing if the sink
continued and I was unable to clear the ridge. Overhead were fractured
cumulus clouds.

As I passed below 12,000 feet I became lower than I had been since my
initial climb out of Bishop in my first thermal of the day. Occasionally
the sink relented and I would gain on the glide to Eureka. But, although it
relented from time to time, the sink did not stop, and lower and lower I
went. As I approached the ridge I was relieved to see I would clear it
despite the continued sink. Jeff reported a moderate north wind at Eureka
even though the automated observation at Ely had been reporting moderate
wind out of southwest when I had checked it a few minutes before. This
opposition of wind direction was probably related to the good lift I had
experienced (but didn't explain the sink to me). I was optimistic that the
sink would stop when I crossed the ridge, but as I crossed the ridge, it
didn't stop. If the sink continued I would be able to glide to alfalfa
fields northeast of the airport but probably wouldn't make it to the
airport. Finally, a mile or so west of the ridge, the sink slowed and then
changed to light lift. My lowest altitude was 10,300 feet at about 1830.

The lift was only moderate but I was climbing again. After climbing 2 or 3
thousand feet I flew south a few miles down the ridge until I was over the
high point of the range, Diamond Peak, where the lift got better, but was
still not much better than moderate. Starting a little higher than 10,000
feet I had a long way to climb. As I got higher I again could hear Zero
Zero Echo calling his ground. I was able to reach Zero Zero Echo by radio.
He said he was on final glide to Inyokern so it looked like he was going to
make his 1000 kilometer flight. I congratulated him and wished him well.

After about 45 minutes of climbing I reached 17,900 feet and headed slowly
southwest in zero sink and reduced sink. It was late in the day and
although I was high enough to be at least close to having a glide to Hadley
airport near Round Mountain, I didn't know of a lot of good to land and tow
out of places between Eureka and Hadley. In addition, Hadley was behind the
highest part of the Toquima Range. That would require me to be high until
almost on top of the airport.

I also had a glide made to places I knew to land to the sout. I might be
able to make it as far as Tonopah if I found good lift and could go fast
enough to get there before dark.

I called Jeff and we agreed I would fly south. Jeff took off and flew that
way. I found zero sink and flew slowly for a long time over 17,900 feet.
Jeff passed me about 30 miles south of Eureka, 5 miles to my east and 10,000
feet below. I could see a little white speck moving against the hills and
shadows below and to my east. To the southwest, an area of scraps of clouds
stretched on toward Tonopah.

About 50 miles or so south of Eureka, the zero sink ended while the sun
approached the horizon. I could see Jeff landing on the dirt road near a
place Jeff and I had flown our planes several times. We agreed we would
both land there today. I didn't want to completely waste the altitude so I
flew on to Highway 6.

I was a little nervous landing on the dirt road there because I knew from
previous visits that if the main landing gear of the glider was in the
middle of the road the wing tips would be unsupported in the ditches on
either side of the road. I had to land to one side of the road or the other
and then be sure that the right wing tip went down when I came to a stop.
There also was the problem that a car might come along the section of road I
was about to land on.

A good landing starts with a good pattern but my landing pattern wasn't
flown very well. As I entered the pattern a truck came and stopped to one
side and at one end of the section of road I was going to land on. I
overshot my turn from base to final and was a little low on final and flew
right over the truck kind of low. Thankfully I touched down right where I
wanted to and at the right speed and rolled to a stop right where I wanted
to with my wing down on the road. It was 2015.

We pushed my glider off the road and parked it next to Jeff's Cessna. A few
cars went by on the road and just about all of them slowed down when the saw
the glider and plane parked there. One car stopped and a sister let his
brother look the aircraft over, then they left. Jeff and I had a picnic
dinner under our wings, or almost under them, including what has now become
a traditional good bottle of red wine.

After a cool night on the ground under a bright moon we were up at dawn
Thursday. In a cloud of dust and sand we took off with no one to run my
wing on the dirt road, but without incident, just before sunrise. We were
back in Bishop a little over 2 hours later.

to bad you did not make it back to Tonopah .. there were about 25 gliders
there this week. Thursday looked great and you might have been able to
launch from Hadley or Tonopah and soared back on your own.

congratulations on a great flight

BT

"Marry Daniel or David Grah" wrote in message
...
David Grah
The flight had been arranged for Wednesday out of my home airport at
Bishop,
California, but the weather didn't look good enough that day for the
flight
I hoped for. The weather forecast looked better on Thursday, 10 July
2003,
so, the flight would be that day. The main impact of the change in days
was
that flying Thursday rather than Wednesday I had to land within about 200
miles of Bishop or I'd be on my own for the retrieve. If I had flown on
Wednesday the plan would have been for me to fly as far as I could that
day,
with a retrieve tow back to Bishop the next day.

Although the weather certainly looked better on Thursday that Wednesday it
still didn't look great to me. I figured the soaring conditions might be
better later in the day so I aimed for a bit later of a start than I might
have otherwise.

I took off from Bishop Airport at 1245 in my H301 Libelle behind my friend
Jeff Thompson's 150 horsepower Cessna 150. Right from the start of the
tow
good lift seemed to be abundant. I released east of the airport at 6,700
feet and quickly centered on the first good thermal of the day. I climbed
to about 12,000 feet and headed north up the White Mountains. Right after
the tow Jeff landed to do some errands and to pack up for our overnight
excursion. He planned to be back in the air about 1530.

During the climb I reported to Jeff that the conditions looked good. A
glider flying a 1000 kilometer flight out of Inyokern that day (Zero Zero
Echo) was approaching Bishop and we talked briefly about the weather and
our
respective flights. As it turns out Zero Zero Echo had a pretty good
radio
and he was good enough to relay key messages between Jeff and I later in
the
day.

Although lift was good flying north up the White Mountains, I reached
Montgomery Peak, the most prominent peak at the north end of the Whites,
about 45 minutes after take off and about even with its top at a bit over
13,000 feet. A street of good looking cumulus clouds was forming east of
the Whites and a few puffs were starting to form further to the northeast
in
the direction I hoped to fly. A few miles east of Montgomery Peak near
Basalt I contacted excellent lift under some nice cumulus clouds there. I
climbed in this lift to above 17,900 feet and then continued northeast
flying at my 45 mile per hour minimum sink speed under the good clouds. I
topped out at 17,900 feet at the base of the clouds a few miles north of
Miller Mountain. Ahead, the cumulus puffs were growing more numerous.

From Miller Mountain I flew over Mina and then detoured a bit to fly over
Pilot Peak. I made a good climb here and could look ahead to a few good
clouds forming on the Toiyabe Range near Arc Dome and Hadley. In what had
been blue beyond the Tioyabe's cumulus puffs began to form. As I flew on
toward the Tioyabe's I had a minute or two of concern whether or not I
would
find lift to clear them but as I approached the range, I found good lift
and
climbed again to over 17,900 feet near Arc Dome. From here the best
clouds
continued northeast across the Big Smokey Valley toward Eureka. Another
smaller branch of clouds and puffs continued more northerly toward Austin
with some puffs continuing on a path toward Battle Mountain. I headed on
the major branch toward Eureka. I hadn't flown my glider over Eureka
before
and flying over Eureka was one of the things I hoped to do on this flight.
In addition, the Eureka airport was the last paved airport in the
direction
of my flight still within 200 miles of Bishop.

The clouds over the Big Smokey Valley provided some good lift and a couple
of climbs topping out at 17,900 feet, but began to dissipate as I passed
north of the large dry lake in the middle of the valley. Soon the lift
was
gone, the variometer was pegged down and I was flying on at the 108 mile
per
hour rough air red line of my Libelle. The sink continued on and on and
finally, turned to moderate lift a few miles southwest of Summit Mountain
at
the north end of the Monitor Range and at about 12,500 feet. Here I
climbed
a thousand feet or so and then the lift seemed to disappear and I started
down again. Back down to about 12,500 feet and a mile or so northeast of
Summit Mountain I again found moderate lift and climbed to almost 18,000
feet and high enough to continue on Eureka and beyond.

During the climb Zero Zero Echo relayed to me that Jeff had left Bishop
headed for fuel at Tonopah. I use a panel mounted handheld radio in my
glider so it took repeated transmissions for Zero Zero Echo to understand
I
was nearing Eureka, 195 miles out of Bishop. Zero Zero Echo was good
enough
to take the time to understand my message and to pass it on to Jeff who
couldn't hear me at all.

On my way to Eureka I could see the line of best clouds passed over Eureka
and continued northeast. Another branch of clouds was forming northwest
of
and parallel to my course and seemed to be reaching for the Ruby
Mountains.
Flying along the Ruby Mountains was another thing I hoped to do on the
flight so that forming branch of clouds was mighty inviting. Still the
best
clouds by far headed past Eureka and further on east of the Ruby's. It
seemed pretty clear I could go the furthest with the best clouds so that
is
the way I headed. Except for some clouds near Ely and the 10 or 20 mile
wide corridor of clouds I was following, skies were mostly blue with no
clouds over the middle of Nevada. This course seemed to be the best one
to
take today.

I passed over the Eureka airport at about 1615 and 16,000 feet. The plan
that developed in my mind was to continue on following the clouds to the
northeast until 1730, and then turn around a head back hoping to get at
least to Eureka and to a paved airport within 200 miles of Bishop. I
could
see the clouds continued on way into the distant northeast and considered
just continuing as far as I could and leaving the retrieve to my own
devises, but I decided otherwise.

On drives and plane trips across Nevada I had always admired the Diamond
Mountains east of Eureka so yet another thing I wanted to do on the flight
was to fly this range. In a mixed blessing I passed by more than a mile
over its top so couldn't enjoy it much.

The clouds over the next range east, sort of a southern extension of the
Ruby Mountains, looked really good and formed a continuous cloud street
extending thirty or forty miles to the northeast. I reached them and flew
on in good lift at minimum sink speed only circling in the strongest lift.
Soon I was at 17,900 feet at the base of these clouds, the highest I have
ever been in purely thermal lift. The Ruby's were 30 or so miles to the
northwest and I could see there was only a puff or two of cloud along
these
mountains. I was high enough to easily make it back to Eureka.

I was also high enough to hear Jeff calling me every few minutes as he
climbed out of Tonopah but at first he couldn't hear me respond. After a
while Jeff could hear my return calls, but not well. I was reporting to
Jeff that I was near Currie but at first Jeff heard it as being near
Currant. A few calls back and forth and we straightened it out. He would
head for Eureka.

As I reached the northeast end of the good clouds virga was starting to
fall. I could see well formed widely scattered cumulus ahead 10 or 15
miles
on the other side of the virga and the blue beyond that. It was about
1700.
As I flew clear of the virga and into the blue on the other side I found
strong sink. Flying through the sink I soon lost enough altitude that I
couldn't glide back to Eureka any more but I could still make it on to
Wendover Utah about 50 miles ahead. I flew on, northeast bound, at rough
air redline, rapidly loosing altitude. A few miles short of the well
formed
clouds I saw a scrap of cloud forming a mile or so northwest of my course.
I was aware it was getting later in the day and I was aware of my
commitment
to Jeff to try to get back to Eureka for our tow home the next day. The
good clouds ahead looked great but were far enough apart that I was
concerned that if I didn't find lift under the first one and if there was
sink between that cloud and the next one, that I could a struggle to get
back to Eureka. I diverted over to the scrap and found moderate lift.
After what seemed to be a long time the lift started to drop well off. I
was at 17,900 feet and it was a little after 1730. I was about 295 miles
out of Bishop.

The clouds a few miles ahead to the northeast still looked great and I
could
see a beautiful cloud street passing over Wendover and continuing north.
Beyond that as far as I could see into Idaho were more well formed cumulus
clouds. It would have been easy to fly well into Idaho and maybe as far
as
Wyoming. If these conditions had only existed the day before when
everything was in place for me to fly as far as I could straight out!

The sink wasn't so bad heading back to the excellent cloud street where I
had gotten so high a while before. The clouds still worked well, though
not
quite as strong as they had before, and seemed to continue almost all the
way to Eureka. Scattered cumulus continued on beyond Eureka back toward
Bishop.

A little more than halfway back to Eureka from my turn around point, at
about 17,900 feet and with good clouds between me and Eureka, I entered
strong sink and sped up to rough air redline again in response. I should
have been more than high enough to make it to Eureka though the sink was
certainly stronger than my glide computer card accounted for. There were
good clouds ahead between my position and Eureka. I was pretty sure the
sink would end soon and I could climb again under the good clouds and
continue on to Eureka and beyond, but I continued down.

At about this time Jeff arrived at Eureka to land, wait for me, and get
fuel. A few minutes after Jeff landed, the Fixed Base Operator (FBO) at
the
Eureka airport called my up on 123.300 even though it was after 1800 by
this
time. It took me a call or so to figure out that he was calling me and
for
me to respond. He passed his microphone to Jeff and Jeff asked me if I
thought I'd make it as far as Eureka. I replied that I was sure that I
would and, based on the look of the clouds ahead, expected to go
substantially further.

All the while I continued to sink. I could judge my glide angle by
sighting
between the top of the Diamond Mountains and the fields and features in
the
valley north of Eureka. Although my glide card showed I still had plenty
of
altitude to make it to Eureka, sighting between the ridge of the mountains
and the valley clearly showed that often in the stronger sink I was
loosing
ground on a glide over the ridge. The valley east of Eureka valley had a
large dry lake that appeared to be good for landing and towing if the sink
continued and I was unable to clear the ridge. Overhead were fractured
cumulus clouds.

As I passed below 12,000 feet I became lower than I had been since my
initial climb out of Bishop in my first thermal of the day. Occasionally
the sink relented and I would gain on the glide to Eureka. But, although
it
relented from time to time, the sink did not stop, and lower and lower I
went. As I approached the ridge I was relieved to see I would clear it
despite the continued sink. Jeff reported a moderate north wind at Eureka

even though the automated observation at Ely had been reporting moderate
wind out of southwest when I had checked it a few minutes before. This
opposition of wind direction was probably related to the good lift I had
experienced (but didn't explain the sink to me). I was optimistic that
the
sink would stop when I crossed the ridge, but as I crossed the ridge, it
didn't stop. If the sink continued I would be able to glide to alfalfa
fields northeast of the airport but probably wouldn't make it to the
airport. Finally, a mile or so west of the ridge, the sink slowed and
then
changed to light lift. My lowest altitude was 10,300 feet at about 1830.

The lift was only moderate but I was climbing again. After climbing 2 or
3
thousand feet I flew south a few miles down the ridge until I was over the
high point of the range, Diamond Peak, where the lift got better, but was
still not much better than moderate. Starting a little higher than 10,000
feet I had a long way to climb. As I got higher I again could hear Zero
Zero Echo calling his ground. I was able to reach Zero Zero Echo by
radio.
He said he was on final glide to Inyokern so it looked like he was going
to
make his 1000 kilometer flight. I congratulated him and wished him well.

After about 45 minutes of climbing I reached 17,900 feet and headed slowly
southwest in zero sink and reduced sink. It was late in the day and
although I was high enough to be at least close to having a glide to
Hadley
airport near Round Mountain, I didn't know of a lot of good to land and
tow
out of places between Eureka and Hadley. In addition, Hadley was behind
the
highest part of the Toquima Range. That would require me to be high until
almost on top of the airport.

I also had a glide made to places I knew to land to the sout. I might be
able to make it as far as Tonopah if I found good lift and could go fast
enough to get there before dark.

I called Jeff and we agreed I would fly south. Jeff took off and flew
that
way. I found zero sink and flew slowly for a long time over 17,900 feet.
Jeff passed me about 30 miles south of Eureka, 5 miles to my east and
10,000
feet below. I could see a little white speck moving against the hills and
shadows below and to my east. To the southwest, an area of scraps of
clouds
stretched on toward Tonopah.

About 50 miles or so south of Eureka, the zero sink ended while the sun
approached the horizon. I could see Jeff landing on the dirt road near a
place Jeff and I had flown our planes several times. We agreed we would
both land there today. I didn't want to completely waste the altitude so
I
flew on to Highway 6.

I was a little nervous landing on the dirt road there because I knew from
previous visits that if the main landing gear of the glider was in the
middle of the road the wing tips would be unsupported in the ditches on
either side of the road. I had to land to one side of the road or the
other
and then be sure that the right wing tip went down when I came to a stop.
There also was the problem that a car might come along the section of road
I
was about to land on.

A good landing starts with a good pattern but my landing pattern wasn't
flown very well. As I entered the pattern a truck came and stopped to one
side and at one end of the section of road I was going to land on. I
overshot my turn from base to final and was a little low on final and flew
right over the truck kind of low. Thankfully I touched down right where I
wanted to and at the right speed and rolled to a stop right where I wanted
to with my wing down on the road. It was 2015.

We pushed my glider off the road and parked it next to Jeff's Cessna. A
few
cars went by on the road and just about all of them slowed down when the
saw
the glider and plane parked there. One car stopped and a sister let his
brother look the aircraft over, then they left. Jeff and I had a picnic
dinner under our wings, or almost under them, including what has now
become
a traditional good bottle of red wine.

After a cool night on the ground under a bright moon we were up at dawn
Thursday. In a cloud of dust and sand we took off with no one to run my
wing on the dirt road, but without incident, just before sunrise. We were
back in Bishop a little over 2 hours later.

you should post this on Al's forum with the data log file

BT

"BTIZ" wrote in message
news:xF3Sa.9149$Je.7088@fed1read04...
to bad you did not make it back to Tonopah .. there were about 25 gliders
there this week. Thursday looked great and you might have been able to
launch from Hadley or Tonopah and soared back on your own.

congratulations on a great flight

BT

"Marry Daniel or David Grah" wrote in message
...
David Grah
The flight had been arranged for Wednesday out of my home airport at
Bishop,
California, but the weather didn't look good enough that day for the
flight
I hoped for. The weather forecast looked better on Thursday, 10 July
2003,
so, the flight would be that day. The main impact of the change in days
was
that flying Thursday rather than Wednesday I had to land within about
200
miles of Bishop or I'd be on my own for the retrieve. If I had flown on
Wednesday the plan would have been for me to fly as far as I could that
day,
with a retrieve tow back to Bishop the next day.

Although the weather certainly looked better on Thursday that Wednesday
it
still didn't look great to me. I figured the soaring conditions might
be
better later in the day so I aimed for a bit later of a start than I
might
have otherwise.

I took off from Bishop Airport at 1245 in my H301 Libelle behind my
friend
Jeff Thompson's 150 horsepower Cessna 150. Right from the start of the
tow
good lift seemed to be abundant. I released east of the airport at
6,700
feet and quickly centered on the first good thermal of the day. I
climbed
to about 12,000 feet and headed north up the White Mountains. Right
after
the tow Jeff landed to do some errands and to pack up for our overnight
excursion. He planned to be back in the air about 1530.

During the climb I reported to Jeff that the conditions looked good. A
glider flying a 1000 kilometer flight out of Inyokern that day (Zero
Zero
Echo) was approaching Bishop and we talked briefly about the weather and
our
respective flights. As it turns out Zero Zero Echo had a pretty good
radio
and he was good enough to relay key messages between Jeff and I later in
the
day.

Although lift was good flying north up the White Mountains, I reached
Montgomery Peak, the most prominent peak at the north end of the Whites,
about 45 minutes after take off and about even with its top at a bit
over
13,000 feet. A street of good looking cumulus clouds was forming east
of
the Whites and a few puffs were starting to form further to the
northeast
in
the direction I hoped to fly. A few miles east of Montgomery Peak near
Basalt I contacted excellent lift under some nice cumulus clouds there.
I
climbed in this lift to above 17,900 feet and then continued northeast
flying at my 45 mile per hour minimum sink speed under the good clouds.
I
topped out at 17,900 feet at the base of the clouds a few miles north of
Miller Mountain. Ahead, the cumulus puffs were growing more numerous.

From Miller Mountain I flew over Mina and then detoured a bit to fly
over
Pilot Peak. I made a good climb here and could look ahead to a few good
clouds forming on the Toiyabe Range near Arc Dome and Hadley. In what
had
been blue beyond the Tioyabe's cumulus puffs began to form. As I flew
on
toward the Tioyabe's I had a minute or two of concern whether or not I
would
find lift to clear them but as I approached the range, I found good lift
and
climbed again to over 17,900 feet near Arc Dome. From here the best
clouds
continued northeast across the Big Smokey Valley toward Eureka. Another
smaller branch of clouds and puffs continued more northerly toward
Austin
with some puffs continuing on a path toward Battle Mountain. I headed
on
the major branch toward Eureka. I hadn't flown my glider over Eureka
before
and flying over Eureka was one of the things I hoped to do on this
flight.
In addition, the Eureka airport was the last paved airport in the
direction
of my flight still within 200 miles of Bishop.

The clouds over the Big Smokey Valley provided some good lift and a
couple
of climbs topping out at 17,900 feet, but began to dissipate as I passed
north of the large dry lake in the middle of the valley. Soon the lift
was
gone, the variometer was pegged down and I was flying on at the 108 mile
per
hour rough air red line of my Libelle. The sink continued on and on and
finally, turned to moderate lift a few miles southwest of Summit
Mountain
at
the north end of the Monitor Range and at about 12,500 feet. Here I
climbed
a thousand feet or so and then the lift seemed to disappear and I
started
down again. Back down to about 12,500 feet and a mile or so northeast
of
Summit Mountain I again found moderate lift and climbed to almost 18,000
feet and high enough to continue on Eureka and beyond.

During the climb Zero Zero Echo relayed to me that Jeff had left Bishop
headed for fuel at Tonopah. I use a panel mounted handheld radio in my
glider so it took repeated transmissions for Zero Zero Echo to
understand
I
was nearing Eureka, 195 miles out of Bishop. Zero Zero Echo was good
enough
to take the time to understand my message and to pass it on to Jeff who
couldn't hear me at all.

On my way to Eureka I could see the line of best clouds passed over
Eureka
and continued northeast. Another branch of clouds was forming northwest
of
and parallel to my course and seemed to be reaching for the Ruby
Mountains.
Flying along the Ruby Mountains was another thing I hoped to do on the
flight so that forming branch of clouds was mighty inviting. Still the
best
clouds by far headed past Eureka and further on east of the Ruby's. It
seemed pretty clear I could go the furthest with the best clouds so that
is
the way I headed. Except for some clouds near Ely and the 10 or 20 mile
wide corridor of clouds I was following, skies were mostly blue with no
clouds over the middle of Nevada. This course seemed to be the best one
to
take today.

I passed over the Eureka airport at about 1615 and 16,000 feet. The
plan
that developed in my mind was to continue on following the clouds to the
northeast until 1730, and then turn around a head back hoping to get at
least to Eureka and to a paved airport within 200 miles of Bishop. I
could
see the clouds continued on way into the distant northeast and
considered
just continuing as far as I could and leaving the retrieve to my own
devises, but I decided otherwise.

On drives and plane trips across Nevada I had always admired the Diamond
Mountains east of Eureka so yet another thing I wanted to do on the
flight
was to fly this range. In a mixed blessing I passed by more than a mile
over its top so couldn't enjoy it much.

The clouds over the next range east, sort of a southern extension of the
Ruby Mountains, looked really good and formed a continuous cloud street
extending thirty or forty miles to the northeast. I reached them and
flew
on in good lift at minimum sink speed only circling in the strongest
lift.
Soon I was at 17,900 feet at the base of these clouds, the highest I
have
ever been in purely thermal lift. The Ruby's were 30 or so miles to the
northwest and I could see there was only a puff or two of cloud along
these
mountains. I was high enough to easily make it back to Eureka.

I was also high enough to hear Jeff calling me every few minutes as he
climbed out of Tonopah but at first he couldn't hear me respond. After
a
while Jeff could hear my return calls, but not well. I was reporting to
Jeff that I was near Currie but at first Jeff heard it as being near
Currant. A few calls back and forth and we straightened it out. He
would
head for Eureka.

As I reached the northeast end of the good clouds virga was starting to
fall. I could see well formed widely scattered cumulus ahead 10 or 15
miles
on the other side of the virga and the blue beyond that. It was about
1700.
As I flew clear of the virga and into the blue on the other side I found
strong sink. Flying through the sink I soon lost enough altitude that I
couldn't glide back to Eureka any more but I could still make it on to
Wendover Utah about 50 miles ahead. I flew on, northeast bound, at
rough
air redline, rapidly loosing altitude. A few miles short of the well
formed
clouds I saw a scrap of cloud forming a mile or so northwest of my
course.
I was aware it was getting later in the day and I was aware of my
commitment
to Jeff to try to get back to Eureka for our tow home the next day. The
good clouds ahead looked great but were far enough apart that I was
concerned that if I didn't find lift under the first one and if there
was
sink between that cloud and the next one, that I could a struggle to get
back to Eureka. I diverted over to the scrap and found moderate lift.
After what seemed to be a long time the lift started to drop well off.
I
was at 17,900 feet and it was a little after 1730. I was about 295
miles
out of Bishop.

The clouds a few miles ahead to the northeast still looked great and I
could
see a beautiful cloud street passing over Wendover and continuing north.
Beyond that as far as I could see into Idaho were more well formed
cumulus
clouds. It would have been easy to fly well into Idaho and maybe as far
as
Wyoming. If these conditions had only existed the day before when
everything was in place for me to fly as far as I could straight out!

The sink wasn't so bad heading back to the excellent cloud street where
I
had gotten so high a while before. The clouds still worked well, though
not
quite as strong as they had before, and seemed to continue almost all
the
way to Eureka. Scattered cumulus continued on beyond Eureka back toward
Bishop.

A little more than halfway back to Eureka from my turn around point, at
about 17,900 feet and with good clouds between me and Eureka, I entered
strong sink and sped up to rough air redline again in response. I
should
have been more than high enough to make it to Eureka though the sink was
certainly stronger than my glide computer card accounted for. There
were
good clouds ahead between my position and Eureka. I was pretty sure the
sink would end soon and I could climb again under the good clouds and
continue on to Eureka and beyond, but I continued down.

At about this time Jeff arrived at Eureka to land, wait for me, and get
fuel. A few minutes after Jeff landed, the Fixed Base Operator (FBO) at
the
Eureka airport called my up on 123.300 even though it was after 1800 by
this
time. It took me a call or so to figure out that he was calling me and
for
me to respond. He passed his microphone to Jeff and Jeff asked me if I
thought I'd make it as far as Eureka. I replied that I was sure that I
would and, based on the look of the clouds ahead, expected to go
substantially further.

All the while I continued to sink. I could judge my glide angle by
sighting
between the top of the Diamond Mountains and the fields and features in
the
valley north of Eureka. Although my glide card showed I still had
plenty
of
altitude to make it to Eureka, sighting between the ridge of the
mountains
and the valley clearly showed that often in the stronger sink I was
loosing
ground on a glide over the ridge. The valley east of Eureka valley had
a
large dry lake that appeared to be good for landing and towing if the
sink
continued and I was unable to clear the ridge. Overhead were fractured
cumulus clouds.

As I passed below 12,000 feet I became lower than I had been since my
initial climb out of Bishop in my first thermal of the day.
Occasionally
the sink relented and I would gain on the glide to Eureka. But,
although
it
relented from time to time, the sink did not stop, and lower and lower I
went. As I approached the ridge I was relieved to see I would clear it
despite the continued sink. Jeff reported a moderate north wind at
Eureka

even though the automated observation at Ely had been reporting moderate
wind out of southwest when I had checked it a few minutes before. This
opposition of wind direction was probably related to the good lift I had
experienced (but didn't explain the sink to me). I was optimistic that
the
sink would stop when I crossed the ridge, but as I crossed the ridge, it
didn't stop. If the sink continued I would be able to glide to alfalfa
fields northeast of the airport but probably wouldn't make it to the
airport. Finally, a mile or so west of the ridge, the sink slowed and
then
changed to light lift. My lowest altitude was 10,300 feet at about
1830.

The lift was only moderate but I was climbing again. After climbing 2
or
3
thousand feet I flew south a few miles down the ridge until I was over
the
high point of the range, Diamond Peak, where the lift got better, but
was
still not much better than moderate. Starting a little higher than
10,000
feet I had a long way to climb. As I got higher I again could hear Zero
Zero Echo calling his ground. I was able to reach Zero Zero Echo by
radio.
He said he was on final glide to Inyokern so it looked like he was going
to
make his 1000 kilometer flight. I congratulated him and wished him
well.

After about 45 minutes of climbing I reached 17,900 feet and headed
slowly
southwest in zero sink and reduced sink. It was late in the day and
although I was high enough to be at least close to having a glide to
Hadley
airport near Round Mountain, I didn't know of a lot of good to land and
tow
out of places between Eureka and Hadley. In addition, Hadley was behind
the
highest part of the Toquima Range. That would require me to be high
until
almost on top of the airport.

I also had a glide made to places I knew to land to the sout. I might
be
able to make it as far as Tonopah if I found good lift and could go fast
enough to get there before dark.

I called Jeff and we agreed I would fly south. Jeff took off and flew
that
way. I found zero sink and flew slowly for a long time over 17,900
feet.
Jeff passed me about 30 miles south of Eureka, 5 miles to my east and
10,000
feet below. I could see a little white speck moving against the hills
and
shadows below and to my east. To the southwest, an area of scraps of
clouds
stretched on toward Tonopah.

About 50 miles or so south of Eureka, the zero sink ended while the sun
approached the horizon. I could see Jeff landing on the dirt road near
a
place Jeff and I had flown our planes several times. We agreed we would
both land there today. I didn't want to completely waste the altitude
so
I
flew on to Highway 6.

I was a little nervous landing on the dirt road there because I knew
from
previous visits that if the main landing gear of the glider was in the
middle of the road the wing tips would be unsupported in the ditches on
either side of the road. I had to land to one side of the road or the
other
and then be sure that the right wing tip went down when I came to a
stop.
There also was the problem that a car might come along the section of
road
I
was about to land on.

A good landing starts with a good pattern but my landing pattern wasn't
flown very well. As I entered the pattern a truck came and stopped to
one
side and at one end of the section of road I was going to land on. I
overshot my turn from base to final and was a little low on final and
flew
right over the truck kind of low. Thankfully I touched down right where
I
wanted to and at the right speed and rolled to a stop right where I
wanted
to with my wing down on the road. It was 2015.

We pushed my glider off the road and parked it next to Jeff's Cessna. A
few
cars went by on the road and just about all of them slowed down when the
saw
the glider and plane parked there. One car stopped and a sister let his
brother look the aircraft over, then they left. Jeff and I had a picnic
dinner under our wings, or almost under them, including what has now
become
a traditional good bottle of red wine.

After a cool night on the ground under a bright moon we were up at dawn
Thursday. In a cloud of dust and sand we took off with no one to run my
wing on the dirt road, but without incident, just before sunrise. We
were
back in Bishop a little over 2 hours later.

Forgive me if I am asking something that is a 'given' in your sport, but I
assume by the altitudes you mentioned in your GREAT account that you carry
oxygen with you?

--
--
Good Flights!

Cecil E. Chapman, Jr.
PP-ASEL

"We who fly do so for the love of flying.
We are alive in the air with this miracle
that lies in our hands and beneath our feet"

- Cecil Day Lewis-

My personal adventures as a student pilot
and after my PPL: www.bayareapilot.com

That is,,, didn't know if there was some obscure FAR that only applied to
non-power pilots as it related to oxygen use.

--
--
Good Flights!

Cecil E. Chapman, Jr.
PP-ASEL

"We who fly do so for the love of flying.
We are alive in the air with this miracle
that lies in our hands and beneath our feet"

- Cecil Day Lewis-

My personal adventures as a student pilot
and after my PPL: www.bayareapilot.com
"Cecil E. Chapman" wrote in message
. ..
Forgive me if I am asking something that is a 'given' in your sport, but I
assume by the altitudes you mentioned in your GREAT account that you carry
oxygen with you?

--
--
Good Flights!

Cecil E. Chapman, Jr.
PP-ASEL

"We who fly do so for the love of flying.
We are alive in the air with this miracle
that lies in our hands and beneath our feet"

- Cecil Day Lewis-

My personal adventures as a student pilot
and after my PPL: www.bayareapilot.com

Earlier, "Cecil E. Chapman" wrote:

Forgive me if I am asking something that
is a 'given' in your sport, but I assume
by the altitudes you mentioned in your
GREAT account that you carry oxygen with
you?

I can't speak for the pilot in question, but in general sailplane
pilots do carry and use oxygen to at least the minimum degree
specified in 14 CFR 91.211. Where I fly in the Sierra Nevada and in
the Nevada Basin and Range country, most sailplanes are equipped with
oxygen systems. Most such systems are made up of components from
either Mountain High or Nelson:

http://www.mhoxygen.com/

http://www.nelsonoxygen.com/

In my experience, sailplane pilots are far more likely to use oxygen
than most general aviation pilots, and are more knowledgable about its
handling and use.
Personally, I go on oxygen while on the ground whenever I think that
I'll be at or above 10,000 feet MSL during the flight. And that's
pretty much every flight at Air Sailing.

Thanks, and best regards to all

Bob K.
http://www.hpaircraft.com

I read that Bruce Bohannon breathed 100% oxy for over an hour prior
to his 40K+ RV flight, and know that it is standard practice to
turn the oxy on before takeoff of wave flights at Minden (where
25k+ wave is common in winter).

Bruce said he pre-breathes to purge nitrogen. I understand
Fossett and his NZ pal are also big oxy users. I'm interested in
what his altitude record attempts will look like after he is
done with speed records. I wonder at what altitude a pressure suit
is a good idea...

I've had serious hypoxia after several hours at 11K, and bought
oxygen after that flight. Gliding I seldom get that high since
my gliderport is at 780 ft, but if I was near the sierras
flying thermal or wave, I'd surely use oxygen frequently.

"Mark James Boyd" wrote in message
...
| I read that Bruce Bohannon breathed 100% oxy for over an
hour prior
| to his 40K+ RV flight, and know that it is standard
practice to
| turn the oxy on before takeoff of wave flights at Minden
(where
| 25k+ wave is common in winter).
|
| Bruce said he pre-breathes to purge nitrogen. I
understand
| Fossett and his NZ pal are also big oxy users. I'm
interested in
| what his altitude record attempts will look like after he
is
| done with speed records. I wonder at what altitude a
pressure suit
| is a good idea...

I seem to remember that at altitudes around 52,000 ft or so,
the air pressure is so low that the boiling point of water
approaches the temperature of the human body. You don't
work too well if your blood boils !
So I guess that at anything above 50,000 ft you should have
a pressure suit.
(The RAAF Aviation Medicine Student Notes define three Zones
of the atmosphere for physiological purposes:
"The Physiological Zone" = sea level to 10,000 ft. Human
can operate without any major physiological deficiency.
"The Physiologically Deficient Zone" = 10,000 to 50,000 ft
Increasing amounts of supplemental Oxygen are required to
support life.
"The Space Equivalent Zone" = anything above 50,000 ft .
Effectively no Oxygen available, and where (the airforce)
rarely operates.)
Cheers, John G.

"Al" wrote...
My O2 system I set to not even give me a puff of O2 till over 12,000ft
I use the M+H EDS set to D12 setting. You must be really infirm to get
hypoxic at just over 11k do you smoke or are you very old?

Uh, Al, you live at 6000+ feet. You are aclimated to a reduced partial pressure
of oxygen. Those of us who live closer to sea level take a few days to get to
that state. I have felt symptoms of hypoxia at lower altitudes, when I've
driven up to Truckee from the Bay Area and flown the same day. As far as I can
tell, I'm not infirm, I don't smoke, and I'm not quite elderly, yet. I use
oxygen from ground level every flight at Truckee, Minden, etc., it's cheap
compared to the alternative...

Marc

[Warning: Long reply, explores tangents]

Earlier, Al McDonald wrote:

My O2 system I set to not even give me a
puff of O2 till over 12,000ft I use the
M+H EDS set to D12 setting.

Riiiiiiight. But this knob goes to "eleven"...

You must be really infirm to get hypoxic
at just over 11k do you smoke or are you
very old?

I think Al is just being a little bit silly again. Many otherwise
normal-seeming people show symptoms of hypoxia at altitudes as low as
8000 feet msl. And that doesn't make them bad people.

Besides, what's the problem with using oxygen? The gas itself is
probably one of the cheapest elements of a soaring flight.

Say that a 22-cubic foot bottle fill costs $20, and you dispense it at
the conservatively recommended rate of 1 liter per minute per 10,000
feet of altitude. Say that your flight averages 10,000 feet.

Lets's math out:

1 ft^3 = 28.3 liters

22 ft^3 = 22*28.3 liters = 623 liters

$20/623 liters = $.032 liter

The cost to you is about 3.2 pennies per minute, or:

$.032/liter * 1 liter/minute * 60 minutes = $1.92/hour

And that's with a relatively wasteful constant-flow system. An EDS
system like Al uses dispenses oxygen pulses synchronized with your
breathing. In the N mode, that system is typically about 5 times more
effective at delivering oxygen into the blood as conventional constant
flow systems. So the cost is more like:

$1.92 /5 = $0.38/hour

The D modes that Al uses set altitude thresholds of 5000 feet, 10,000
feet,
or 12,000 feet. The system starts despensing as you go up through the
threshold altitude, and stops dispensing as you go down through it.
Actually,
there's about 1000 feet of buffer to the threshold, and about 1000
feet of hysteresis, but those are trivia points. Anyhow, the D modes
can double the effectiveness of the EDS system when you spend a lot of
time at or near the chosen mode threshold. So under those
circumstances the cost might be like:

$1.92 /10 = $0.19/hour

That means that Al is probably saving about $0.19 per hour on weak
days by using the D modes instead of N mode.

The thing that makes me a bit leery of the D modes is an observation
that Dr. Steele Lipe has made in private correspondence:

There is some indication that removing the
oxygen while descending through 12,500 feet
to a landing may result in abnormally low
oxygen levels, lower than expected! It is my
recommendation that once starting oxygen it
should be continued until landing and roll
out.

The rational is simple; if there is, as I have
seen, a secondary reduction in oxygen levels
after removal of your oxygen supply during
descent and the landing phase is the most
stressful part of the entire flight lower than
expected oxygen levels and fatigue from the
flight could result in inattention to ones
flying, thus contributing to a PROBLEM.

Based on that observation, it might be worth considering switching to
N mode before landing. Personally, if I used the EDS system, I'd
rather spend the extra two bits per hour and use N mode for the whole
flight.

Thanks, and best regards to all

Bob K.
http://www.hpaircraft.com