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(FAC NATS Geneseo 2004... pg 2)

Friday, Day One

Listened once more to the Jayhawks on the ride to the field. Poor choice. Cool air, somewhat windy, spent the day looking for thermals only to find none. Placed sixth in WW1 mass with the old Martinsyde Buzzard peanut, a non thrill, but at least my Loose Special made it into the Thompson Race. Otherwise, I should've stayed at the motel, watch game shows and catch up on sleep. My fourteen ships could have stayed put.

Glad I didn't though, since the evening trim sessions were wonderful. We flew until after 9PM. Vance's new Flamingo gave us all a beautiful flight. This bird can float! At 35 inches and 54 grams, it's no wonder. No one was as surprised as Vance, who was his animated best as she circled the field for just under a minute.

Saturday, Day Two

Ah the changing winds. The Jayhawks were still in the CD player, so a switch was in order. Bring on Nora Jones and her smooth, whispy words. Seemed to soften the bumpy ride on the mile long gravel road that leads to the flight line. Already this was feeling good.

The weather was a 180 degree change from Friday's. Today the sky was blue, brilliant white clouds were en force. The winds stayed under 5 mph for most of the day and the temps were within reason. Everyone seemed to arrive with a smile of their face and a quicker step. It was clear that today was going to be a good one at Geneseo. I believe the previous evening's trim session gave all of us hope.

Two more observations. Looking at my work table which had been there all night under the canopy, I noticed a little toad hopping on the corner. Must've been only 1.5" long, but he seemed content enough.
I tried to get close for a shot or two, and did so just as he left for the camouflage of the grass.
First time I've ever seen this at Geneseo, so hey, change is good. Figured it must be good luck.

Saturday morning good luck toad

Offering to the thermal gods

The other unexpected image was under the canopy to our left. I'm not sure whose it was, but a Laird Turner Meteor in the 24" range was hanging by the tail from one of the cross pieces as if in effigy. One wing panel was missing while the model slowly spun, clearly an offering to the Thermal Gods. This image is how most of us felt after Friday. A tough tough day except for a few.

In the past two major contests, Geneso 2003 and Wawayanda 2003, I've started out the day flying the Bleriot 25 with Harriet Quimby at the helm. Both led to maxes with the same rubber, so I figured that today I'd remain hopeful, needing a good start in the worst way.

A new motor from last night showed too much torque, so I simply re-lubed the motor from the previous two events. With blast tube in place I wound to max and tossed her skyward. With a much cleaner launch than the year before, Harriet took the bird to reasonable heights and once again brought home a max flight around two minutes, landing softly on the chest high grass that marked the 1/2 acre swamp to the north. This was more like it. All I got was wet feet. Lucky toad indeed.

Bleriot landing

Tom's second Bleriot 25, this time with Louis Bleriot as the pilot

The air looked as if it'd be rising for most of the morning, so I started to pull out the fleet. Different from years past, we were allowed to fly our jumbo, giant, and power models on any of the three days. I decided to bring out my 36" jumbo Glenny Henderson Gadfly and put up an official. She gave me a near max flight, but flew toward that dreaded swamp. Again, I came away with wet feet, but also a soaked left wing panel on the Gadfly. I put her back in the box for the rest of the weekend to dry off. Never brought her out again, which was fine for this aging ship of twelve years.

The jumbo Gadfly in flight

One model that has been a thorn in my side is my peanut Clipped Wing Cub. She's the sister ship to the first version that flew away in Geneseo '98 after only a few weeks of life. Hit me so hard back then that I had to build another, identical I had hoped. Wrong, for she had clearly taken on the role of the evil twin. Beautiful soaring flights to amazing heights, only to spiral southward in a hurry after crowning the top of the power run. Nothing seemed to work, but this day, with a few additional tweaks I was once again hopeful.

Clipped Wing Cub

Moments like these are unexpected, left up to the Thermal Gods and synchronicity. When it happens, it feels like magic. Walking out beyond the flight line with the fully wound Clipped-Wing Cub, I looked up and noticed Bill Henn's beautiful twin WW2 ship soaring in a thermal at about 250'. This was good, as I've seen this piggy-back situation before. So with a hurried movement, I walked out a few more yards, signaled the timer and let her fly. To use the phrase of a flying pal of mine, she played the 'homesick angel', spiraling quickly northward in a right pattern.

Within the first 30 seconds she was nearing 150'. At a minute she was closer to 250', crossing over the flight line, heading southwest toward the farmhouse and hangars. Now I had rarely been to this side of the field so I didn't know what I was getting into, but my legs told me to move so I did as instructed, trying to stay close underneath her. Thank God for the conditioning in the months prior to the contest, 'cause it was paying off now.

I ran past the vintage aircraft and military vehicles, past a kid who was just coming out of a hangar....asked him quickly what's back there as I pointed ahead of myself. He yelled it's forest and fields... Oh great, just what I needed. The plane is 300' up and heading into the great unknown.
As I looked to maintain my sighting, she was now past three minutes. The death spiral that had been the ship's downfall in the past was now keeping her alive, preventing her from lifting even higher in this marvelous air.

Tight spirals to the right, the bird started to fall a bit as she moved past the line of trees and the farmhouse. I did my best to parallel her flight, looking while dodging between the branches of the tall trees in a somewhat scattered side to side jerky movement. Another Don Knotts moment to any onlooker, something that seems to follow me through years of chasing these crazy thermals.

Red dots follow the path of my Clipped Wing Cub chase. Photo is from FAC Nats 1986.

The model dropped even further as she flew out of view between two very tall and ancient trees in the cow pasture beyond the farmhouse. I pushed into the thick brush that was part of the tree line on the north side of the pasture to where I was running. I could go no further without the risk of losing sight of her, so I waited. She was out of view. Enter the sunken feeling that says she's gone, lost in the trees.

Suddenly I spotted an orange tail with twin fins flipping to the ground between the two trees. I got a bit excited but of course quickly realized that it wasn't my ship. You mean someone else was also going through this same incredible chase? I watched the tail fall to the ground, but then out of the corner of my eye I saw the Cub, still circling beyond the second tree. Incredible.

Major breath of air left my chest as the bird was below tree top level, about 25 yards further south and out of harms way. I stood and watched from the briars while she circled one last time, landing softly on the thick 12" grass. The clock read 4 minutes and 37 seconds. The evil twin had 'finally' redeemed herself.

All should have been a cake walk now, but the final retrieval had me sliding down a 6 foot, briar lined embankment, leaping across a 5 foot wide creek onto a log that had fallen across half way, only to skip off of that to another log on the far side.

Finally I thrust myself forward against the other embankment, hoping to grab onto anything without thorns or poison ivy wrapped around it. This all happened in about three seconds, but not so fast that I didn't take note of the fresh raspberries that were bordering the creek. Damn, I never went back, but it would have been the icing on the cake.

Pulling myself up the side and onto a massive trunk (where did 'this' come from??), feeling like that scene from King Kong where the people are in the deep forest hiding from the giant ape, I finally slid down the other side and onto the grass. This was unexpected primitive terrain. I yelled to the other flyer who was calling to his partner, asking if he had seen his model land. I said that I had it, and would bring it over shortly. But first I needed to run to the Cub and retrieve her, since she had just flown the unthinkable.

There had indeed been cows in this field, for the grass was spotted with their presence.
What care I, for this was a Happy Man. A triumph that made the rest of the day feel like gravy. My friend Leo McCarthy was there to pick up his friend's model. As I looked back at the difficult path I had just taken through the briars and trees, Leo suggested we 'walk through the backyard of the farmhouse'. You must be kidding.... I rolled my eyes and we headed back.

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