The flight.



We've been waiting for this day since February. Two days ago it showed up on the
NAM forecast as displayed by Dr. Jack. This morning the forecasts were still
good. It looked like a go. But, there were bits of cirrus around which is never
inviting, and the winds were stronger than the forecast, and the clouds weren't
forming as we normally expect at 9 or 10 AM on a south southeast day. Maybe
something was wrong.



A bunch of us were here, Paris, Tom Lanning, Mitch Shipley, Paul Tjaden, all
ready to go, but the sky wasn't so inviting. It looked like the day before.
Maybe it would be rough. The winds on the ground were a bit strong, but for the
first time in a very long time, they were out of the south.



We waited. We looked. The cu's began to form. The winds slowed down a little. I
went out and measured the winds at only 10 km/h gusting to 16 km/h. It was time
to go, even with the thin scattered wisps for cu's.



I was the first off at 12:24 and a minute and a half later I was thermaling up
just on the south end of the field after seeing 1,300 fpm on my 15 second
averager while on tow. The lift was big and smooth for 3,000' to 4,500' and
cloud base.



With a fourteen mph wind out of the south southeast, I drifted quickly to the
north northwest over Mascotte and up the west side of highway 33. I was nine
miles out as the guys who launched after me were getting up over Quest Air.



The clouds were thin and well separated as I approached the Florida Turnpike. I
basically would fly from wisp to wisp trying generally to go north. I would have
to make a decision whether to go north northwest along Interstate 75 or north
along highway 301 and I kept looking to the north to see if there were any cu's
ahead, where were they, and whether they were streeted up. There weren't many.



I was splitting the difference between I75 and 301 to Bellevue. To the east the
Ocala National Forest was coming up. The cu's had stopped at Wildwood and now it
was almost all blue, with only the faintest of wisps. Running to them I found
myself right over downtown Ocala and decided to head north toward Hawthorne, the
east side of Orange Lake up highway 301. I was in the lead and setting the
course for the four pilots behind me (Paris, Paul, Mitch and Tom) who had never
flown up in this direction or area previously.



The lift was averaging 200 to 300 fpm to a little over 4,000'. Not great but the
drift was wonderful. I headed over Greystone airport and caught a thermal off
John Travolta's house. I could see ahead starting at the south end of Orange
Lake a sky full of cu's and I only had to get there to assure myself of better
lift and faster glides.



The cu's delivered on their promise and just as I got to the first one Paris
came in 1000' under me. He also came in under me at the next thermal just before
Hawthorne on the northeast side of Orange lake. Taking a better line to the east
Paris passed me overhead as I struggled past Hawthorne. I could hear the other
pilots 10 miles behind.



We were now following 301 in a convergence line of sorts. There was plenty of
lift and sink in spots though. I was running for a dark cloud south of Stark
when I heard Paris was in 900 fpm. I was in 1000 fpm down but I knew that meant
when I hit the lift it would be strong. I didn't anticipate that it would hit
1,100 fpm on the averager though and have it try to kick me out and flip me
sideways. Once I was in it it was smooth but I was going up so fast.



By the time I got to Stark I was over Paris and ahead of him heading northwest
toward the prison to stay far away from the Jacksonville airspace that covers
301 26 miles to the north northeast of Stark. I wanted to go up into Georgia in
the notch which is straight north from Stark, but there is not a straight north
road going to it.



I headed off to the north northwest and found some weak lift over Mount
Trashmore north of the prisons, and then better lift to the northwest of that.
Paris and I went on glide together and I got to see just how much having 30
pounds on him helps in glide. We all got weighed the other day and Paris was
surprised to see that he weighed 145 pounds. It was a five mile glide so it was
pretty revealing.



I found lift near and then over a small fire and climbed fast averaging over 500
fpm. Paris didn't quite get it as well as I did. So I pinched him off and headed
north northeast to get back over the highway that goes into Georgia.



I should have actually waited for him like I did near Starke, as at this point I
started having trouble with my radio. I could no longer transmit as the battery
was too low, even though I could hear everyone.



We were crossing into Georgia and an area that could be without cell service and
I wasn't able to communicate with Belinda who I knew was under us now. We were
responsible for Paris and now Mitch as Paul had landed by Mount Trashmore for
his first 100+ mile flight on a flex wing.



I was concerned about being able to round everyone up and get them home at a
reasonable hour. It was almost five o'clock, the cu's filled the sky. It seemed
like we were in convergence. It was easy staying up. I headed northeast to get
over the highway that goes up through the notch and not into the Okeefanochee
Swamp.



I decided to go out to the northeast back into Florida on the north east side of
the notch into farm lands that I could see and contact Belinda. I landed at
5:30, with probably an hour or hour and a half worth of soaring left in the day.
I had lead these guys out here, but I could no longer communicate with them, and
I didn't want to lose someone in a no cell phone area, including myself.



I landed at a great little field and after working it out with everyone, got
Paris, Mitch and Tom to land there also. It was a great scene in the field as we
enjoyed the end of the day in the mellow evening temperatures.



Paul and Lauren showed up to pick up Tom and Mitch and we all headed to Stark
for barbeque (and vegies for Paris).



139 miles. At least 180 was possible, maybe a new Florida flex wing record (212
miles) especially if someone had started an hour earlier. It was Mitch's second
longest flight. His longest was in the Owens Valley in California.