[Cal Glider]

It had not been a good day. Tomorrow would/should be a great day, or so said the weather forecast. I had sat around launch for several hours watching the anemometer over by the old navy radar station. It was a fairly accurate indicator of soaring conditions. You see, it only had two of the three veins on the prop, somehow one of them had been broken off so if the prop was spinning, it was soarable, no ifs ands or buts about it. If it was rocking back and forth violently (but not spinning around) it “MIGHT” be soarable.
I had been sitting there watching the prop rock back and forth for what seemed like forever, but the wind never got strong enough to make it spin. A few times it would get close, and the pilots would start getting antsy, some of the newbes would get their harness on, wanting to be the first into the sky.
About then one of the old diver pilots (me) would sometimes sneak down to the station and give the pole that the anemometer was mounted on a good shake. That would be enough to get the prop over the top and it would start spinning. More often that not, one of the new ones would go for it. The more experienced pilots would then stand around and watch and talk among themselves. “Hey man, check it out. I think he’s gona…go to the beach.” It was always nice when you had a wind dummie or two to check the conditions. (I was the dummy on more than one occasion.)
I could not stand it any longer, I was starting to go through withdrawal (did I mention that I am an air junky) and I had to have a fix so I hucked off for the beach. I did that several times through out the day and then said, “It ain’t gona happen today” So I put my kite on my truck and left.
I went and got some munchies, stopped by the Cal Gliders Shop, walked around the new diver taking shape and talked to d***. He talked a bit about the new sail cut on the mark-4 and I checked out the trunks (truncated tip); they were WAY much shorter than the old ones (those had been about two feet long). That’s why we called them SpinGypsies. With all that mass out on the tips, they were built out of leading edge tubing with brackets and turn buckles so if you slowed down and stalled a tip…sorry, I am drifting again. On a scale of 1 to ten, I have a drift factor of about twelve. But if you follow along it will usually make sense in the end. Anyway, I was just burning time waiting until it was dark so I could sneak back out onto the North face of Torrie where I could crash out for the night.
I lived in a cab-over camper on the back of my old orange dodge pick-up truck. I had found a place over there where the land dropped down and I was out of sight of the pigs…er, cops. The way over was nothing but washboard and it would beat and bounce around any car that tried to go over there. The pigs…I mean police in their cruisers did not want to spill their coffee or doughnuts so they would pull in to the parking lot, flash their spotlight around hang out for a while, then leave.
This spot was really cool. I would park my truck/camper broadside to the cliff edge and crash out. Having no job (I worked just enough to keep clothes on my back, food on the table and gas in the truck) gave me lots of time to get high, I mean fly and get high… I did not like to get up early (unless there was a reason, like flying) and with the truck broadside to the incoming sea breeze, if the wind picked up, it would rock my camper and I knew it was the Wind Gods telling me “wake up, time fly.”
Well, I was zonked out good, enjoying a nice dream when, my house began to rock. I had no idea what time it was, but my truck was rocking so it was sorable! I got up (it was dark…) Opening my camper door I looked out and beheld a world that was illuminated by wonderfully bright, silver light. Everything was imaged in stark black and silver-white… It was beautiful. A huge full moon hung directly over head in a black, cloudless star-shot sky. It was nether cold nor too hot, outside it was one of those perfect California nights.
I just stood there on the tailgate, taking it all in, and I began to think about it. I knew it was wrong and that it was illegal, but, there was no one around, and the more I thought about it, the stronger the need to do it became. The white hippie angel was on my left shoulder and the bellbottom wearing long haired hippy devil was on my right. My personality is not white, and I hate the black…I soul is more of a shade of gray.
(Yea, I’m a deadhead). I realized that this was most likely a once in a lifetime thing. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time…I drove over to launch and set up…
Have you ever experienced a moment in your life where the world and reality surrounding you were surreal? I finished my preflight, harnessed up and hooked in. Everything was so intense. The sensation of the wind on my face as I neared the cliff edge, the smell of the sea as I breathed it all in, I felt a touch of fear, but it was firmly under control. Then, with but a moment of hesitation to level my wings, I ran towards the edge and the abyss beyond. I never made it. Before I reached it, I was lifted in to the sky!
Never had I felt so alive, so very much alive. Finding my kick rope took a bit of doing, but find it I did and I got myself comfortable. I was well above the cliff top as I made my way toward the North Face. Upon reaching it, I was lifted up even higher.
The night wind upon which I rode was steady and glass smooth. I relaxed and drank in my surroundings. My skin tingled as the air rushed past. The sound of seals barking on the beach below me carried clearly to my ears.
With a gentle, flat turn to the right I reversed my direction and I watched the lights of La Johia flicker and twinkle in the distance to the South. Reversing my direction once more I headed back the way I had came. I never left the North Face during the entire time of the flight. I did not want to fly too far from the L/Z. I had no idea how long this night wind would last and I did not want to sink out to the beach below. To have to deal with or attempt the long hike back up in the dark was out of the question. The trail up was hazardous enough in the light of day; in the dark it would have been flat out dangerous...This comment about danger coming from a person who is flying around in the dark with, no helmet (why?), no parachute (parachute…what’s that?) while suspended from a hang loop made out of 3/8 yellow water ski rope (if it can hold a 200 pound dude cutting back at 45 miles an hour on a water ski…it should hold me just hangen out...)
Time lost its meaning, I had no idea what time I had launched, nor how long I had hung suspended between Earth and sky in this bright darkness. But a sense of uneasiness began to steal across my thoughts. What if the man came by and spotted my truck there in the parking lot? With a great deal of sadness I turned the nose of my kite South, drifted back inland from the cliff and set up to land. With the bright Moonlight it was not too difficult to gauge my height. I dropped out of my kick rope, pushed out on the control bar (I did not use the down tubes back then) and flared out. Back in the day, there was no grass upon the sloping L/Z at Torrie, just hard earth. My feet touched the ground, slid out from under me and I sat down on my butt. Hey, any landing you can walk away from…
Breaking down my kite, hanging it on the side of my camper, even the drive back over to my hiding place on the north face was a blur of movement that I do not remember well. I did not, could not go to sleep. My mind was replaying the images of the fantastical flight that I had just experienced.
Once I got parked in my spot, I got a cold one from the icebox and rolled up a smoke. I took a few sticks of incense out, lit them up and placed them on the cliff edge, an offering of thanks to the Wind Gods for the boon of the mind-blowing flight which they had bestowed upon me.
I finished my beer and smoke and just sat there in silence, dazed by what I had just done. I looked out over the dark moon lit sea and the white, moving lines etched on the beach below by the incoming waves until weariness finally overtook me and I went to my bed to dream…

[ChattaroyMan]

Fun! "What ever gets you through the night!" Enjoyed your prose!

[pjwings]

Awesome story. Really set me off in a daydream.

[Flyingseb]

I know a few places that could deserve a full moon flight...every full moon phase, I say to myself, what if ...?
Great story, at least I can imagine the feeling!

[NickL]

thanks for writing up such a great story, just what I needed!

[Cal Glider]

Your welcome Nick. Hmm may be I should write up some of the other stuff that happened to me some of it bad (DO NOT FLY WITH AN OPEN FACE HELMENT) some totally awesome (flying with bald eagle ) The awesome things far out number the bad. The pilots of the modern era sometimes have a hard time really believing what I/we did back in the day.

[paraglidinghd]

great story! thanks!

[Will]

That sounds like a great flight. Heck, anything sounds like a great flight to me. Hope I can have a ride like that, if I ever ride

[kukailimoku]

Ah, the full moon...part of a record-breaking evening many years back at a site I ain't naming and pilots I ain't naming (and they weren't me, but I was there) where we're pretty sure that people who should know better maxed out the number of rules broken in one soaring flight.

1. Flying at night.
2. In and out of a cloud.
3. In and out of a TCA.
4. Tandem without a rating.
5. While having a beer.

No, no, not really. I made it up. Never happened.

Honest.

[Nicos]

...

[aireout]

[Cal Glider]

Aireout is right Will…but then, there are moments in your life where you have a chance to do something (be it HG or a beautiful girl) and if you don’t do (go for it) you will never ever get the chance to do it again…just think long and hard
(but not too long) before making the choice…you live only once

[tom emery]

Mexico. No rules. No enforcement. Makes one wonder about the true definition of FREEDOM.

[Cal Glider]

“Badges?...we don’t need no stinking badges!”