A Disappointed American

America...you have just made the biggest mistake. You have just voted for socialism by buying in to the "redistribution of wealth". You have voted for higher taxes, larger welfare rolls, bigger government, regulated business. Things will not get better. They will get worse.

Citius, Altius, Fortius...Swifter, Higher, Stronger

The Olympic motto takes on new meaning when I think of flying a sailplane. Since this oydessy began more than two years ago I have learned to fly faster, higher and with more courage than ever. In my case the last word of the motto should be Virtus, or man of courage.


Citius
When I first started flying gliders I was amazed at how dynamic the air is. Sometimes the thermals are like a gentle push, other times they are like a kick in the seat of the pants. Wherever there is lift there will be a proportionate amount of sinking air nearby. Where there is really good lift you can bet there is exceptional sink. The solution? Fly slower in the lift and faster through the sink. I’m used to flying between 40-60 knots (46-69 mph) and the wind going past my canopy makes a gentle whisper. Flying through sinking air I’ll speed up to say 80 knots (92 mph). The wind sounds like it’s roaring. I wonder what the sound is like at the 142 knot (163 mph) redline of my plane.

Altius
I love being high above the ground in my plane. (It’s ironic that I don’t like getting up on the roof of my house.) The world looks different the higher you go. Everything looks friendlier. After a flight the euphoria slowly wears off and I see that the only that has changed is me. The world is still the same.


Virtus
I’ve heard that it takes a certain amount of courage to fly away from your home airport for the first time. I am just starting to test the limits of my courage by flying further away from the airport. On one flight I was talking with another pilot who had flown his sailplane from Idaho Falls and was circling over Logan and was getting ready to head back. He said the air was great and I should consider flying north to where he was. I told him I was a relatively new pilot and I still had chicken feathers growing out my rear end. He said, “It’s time to pluck those feathers.” Indeed it is.

Try my new slideshow...

I know you can see these pictures further down in my blog. This is my first experiment with creating a slideshow. If you want to see a larger version just click on the picture. Enjoy!

First Inflight Pictures

This is taken from the back side of the Durst Peak looking at the East side of the Wasatch Front. Where the heavy clouds are is the Bountiful area. Those are the clouds that would eventually end my flight.

Again, the back side of the Wasatch. You can clearly see Weber Canyon.

This shot is looking away from the Wasatch toward the Uintah mountains in a southeast direction.

Flight Facts:
1 hour 14 minutes...the weather was deteriorating and I had to cut it short.
Highest altitude...13,126 feet.
Best thermal...870 feet per minute.
First time to take pictures while flying (not easy).
First time to share a thermal with another plane (Thanks Ron!).
A VERY sweet landing and rollout.

Flying the Duo Discus

I’ve been hanging around glider pilots and the Morgan County airport for about three years now. Several pilots have told me that I need to get a ride in Lynn Alley’s Duo Discus. Not wanting to show my over-eager side I never asked for a ride.

I’ve bumped into Lynn several times and I’ve found he has a wonderfully dry sense of humor. The other day he was telling everyone about his cracked ribs, but he tells it in such a way that really grabs your attention, “So there I was water skiing in the dark…” After his brief story he looks at me and says, “Do you want to go fly in the Duo Discus?” At first I was wondering if he was really talking to me. I hope I didn’t look like…well, stupid as I picked my jaw off the pavement and wiped the drool from my lips. In a shaky voice I said yes.

You may not understand my reaction because a plane is just a plane. Isn’t it? For the uninitiated this is one of the most beautiful sailplanes you’ll ever see. Even pictures really don’t do it any justice. This is a German engineering marvel that you must see up close to appreciate its real beauty.

The top picture is from the manufacturer’s website and shows the latest Duo Discus with a longer cockpit and winglets. The second picture is Lynn’s plane on final approach to Morgan County airport.

So there I was, sitting in the front seat of a Duo Discus and not really believing that I was about to fly this thing when Lynn catches my attention by saying, “You have the controls.” I run through my checklist, give a thumb’s up to the wing runner (Lynn’s daughter, Peggy) and make a radio call to the tow plane. Moments later we are rolling down the runway and it gently eases into the air. After 2.6 hours of joyous flying we landed.

I finally have flown a Duo Discus. FYI...used ones fetch $120,000 - $140,000.

"4 hours, 7 minutes...4 hours, 7 minutes..."

I’m a bit overdue for this blog. I should have written it on Aug 13th. After getting to work I checked the soaring forecast which called for light winds and thermals reaching 18,000 feet. I could feel the effects of my A.D.D. (Altitude Deficit Disorder) setting in.

I called Peggy to let her know that I wanted to go flying. She was too busy at work to drive me home so she told me to take the car and come pick her up when I was done flying. Neither of us could anticipate what was going to happen that day.

I launched about 2:15 and had several good bumps while on tow but decided to go to 3000 AGL before releasing. I was able to maintain altitude but couldn’t gain anything. Two friends in a Duo Discus had launched about 20 minutes after I had. One called on the radio to check up on me. They had found a boomer thermal and were already passing through 10,000 feet. He gave some general directions so I left the relative comfort of Big Mahogany ridge in search of it. After a couple minutes I was a bit disappointed because I wasn’t finding anything. In a last ditch effort I turned east and less than a half mile later I found it. With a sharp right bank I got in the thermal and rode it up to 12,000 feet. Later when I reviewed my flight I discovered that the max vertical speed in that thermal was 1150 feet per minute. Not bad for a plane without an engine.

It was an epic day with a 4 hour 7 minute flight and I reached an altitude of 14,500 feet. I could have gone higher but there was a very turbulent band of lift on the lee side of Durst peak that was hard for me to get through so I was content with the fact that I had made it that far.

Four times I ventured away and out of sight of the airport. Each time I came back to where I knew the ridge lift was working and regain altitude. Throughout the flight there were some mid-level cirrus blowing in from the northwest that was cooling things off. When the variometer only showed that I could only get 100 fpm I decided it was time to head back.

As I flew over Morgan Valley I encountered something I had heard about. As the air cools the earth is still releasing heat. The result was very buoyant air. When I should have been losing about 150 fpm I was only losing about 50 fpm. This allowed me to fly for an extra 15-20 minutes.

By the time I got down, chatted with friends, put the plane back in the trailer and towed it home it was 8:30. I picked up Peggy from work and got a quick bite to eat on the way home. I was exhausted but I could hardly sleep. I woke up many times and my first thought was “4 hours and 7 minutes.”

This was my 129th flight and it was the first time that I felt that I had been admitted into the fraternity of a soaring pilot.

Reaching New Heights

Yesterday I took a high tow to ensure success and I wasn't disappointed. Longest flight and highest altitude to date (1:52 and 12,000). I even chased after a Cumulus cloud about 5 miles east of Durst Mountain. It turned out to be a sucker cloud...suckered me into thinking there might be lift under it...NOT! I still had plenty of altitude to get back to Durst. It was the very first time I was out of sight of the airport. I had to fly through 9-10 knots of sink on the way back. I was doing about 80 knots but probably should have gone faster. I was happy when I found a 3 knot thermal. WHEW! About 1:15 into the flight I realized my gear was still down. I wonder how much better I could have done with it up! I had a little bit of a trouble in rough air thermals. I kept over-banking on the downwind side of the thermal. I was on the lee side of Durst and it was pretty bumpy. Still, there was plenty of lift with most in the 5-7 knot range. In the pattern I was able to get my speed (aircraft+mind speed) under control which really took the pressure off. The pattern was nice and I had an "okay" landing. Hey, one thing at a time. I think the coolest part of the whole flight was when I was on top of Durst in a 5 knot thermal with 10 degrees of flap, at 42 knots. It was so quiet and serene. I pulled out my phone and called my wife. The whole flight was a HUGE confidence booster. As I was packing up my plane I thought, "I really am a pilot!" I can't wait for more! Last night Lynn Alley and I talked about making plans for my first cross country flight which will probably be to Logan. I'm not in a hurry...okay, with the success I had yesterday, YES I AM!!!!

The Domesticated Man

I can add something to my list of things I can do. Today I made my first batch of Apricot Pineapple jam; 20 pints in just over 2 hours....and it even tastes good! It was so easy that I'm eyeing my Plum tree and thinking about making Plum preserves in September. Move over Emeril...

John Mildon...Everyone's Friend

My friend, everyone’s friend, John Mildon passed away last night. He is known in local flying circles as the “curmudgeon”, but don’t let that word fool you. John was a gifted pilot, writer, and a skilled craftsman. John had the vision to see how things should be, and his incredible wit always brought a smile.

Since I met John about two and a half years ago I have always known him to be a straight shooter; he always told it like it is. I overheard a conversation he was having with another pilot at the airport. John related how good the conditions were for soaring that day. When asked why he came down John replied, “I had to pee.”

I told John that I was having some difficulties with another pilot who was critical of my flying. Before I could finish he said, “Who the h___ is he?” I tried to continue my story of how I had a long phone conversation with this person. “That was your first mistake”, he said. Trying to regroup I said that I followed up the phone call with a very long e-mail. To which he said, “That was your second mistake.”

As I was getting ready to fly my plane I sat in the cockpit fiddling with the flight computer. My friend, Dan Thirkill was watching as I fumbled through the screens. Then he said, “If John were here he would say to just fly the #$%^ plane.”

John told me how my wife is such a sweetheart. When I would visit him in the hospital he would always ask where Peggy was. I said, “John, I think you like my wife more than you like me.” With a laugh he said, “Of course I like Peggy more than I like you!”

John preferred a personal visit and a handshake rather than a phone call. He didn’t like e-mail but liked letters because you could hold it in your hand. He didn’t like cluttered instrument panels filled with gadgets, just the basic instruments. I think we all could learn something from him.

John, I’m going to miss you.

Back in the air again

As I write this I’m still trying to wrap my arms around what really happened yesterday. I had lot of “firsts” along with some disappointments, but overall it was the most rewarding flight I’ve ever done on my own.

Takeoff
My best yet. I had the flaps at -10 degrees which gave plenty of aileron authority. I rolled the flaps to zero and the plane hopped off the ground. I had to hold the stick forward a little to keep from going too high but otherwise it was very nice. I even remembered to make the call out at 200 feet.

Tow
Shortly after starting tow, Stan McGrew, the tow pilot, called me on the radio and asked how the speed was. I said it was just fine. Actually, I didn’t look at the airspeed indicator because my eyes were fixed on the tow plane. I didn’t want to risk getting out of position just to look at my speed. I passed through a couple good thermals but decided to take a high tow. At 8500 feet the variometer was showing that I was going up about 1000 feet per minute. I felt this would guarantee 500-600 fpm lift so I pulled the release.

Soaring
It didn’t take long to lose 1000 feet and that’s not what I wanted. I finally realized that I needed to be a little closer to Big Mahogany because the lift was not in front of it but on top. I stayed there and flew figure eights in and out of two areas of lift. I finally got high enough that the lift was starting to get smoother. For the first time I felt I was starting to relax.

Dan launched after me and it was nice to have him close by. After I got up to about 11,500 feet he said to try going on the lee side of Durst Mountain, something I had never done before. The lift was stronger but the air was rough. I didn’t do very well and was losing more than I was gaining. After a few minutes I thought it best to get back on the windward side. I had lost some altitude trying to fly the rough air, and though I could have made it over the top of Durst, I decided to fly around it on the north side. The remainder of the flight was spent on the front side of Durst and Big Mahogany.

Landing
After flying a lap around the airport I made the radio call and flew the pattern. I could feel my heartbeat pounding as I knew there were a lot of eyes on the ground watching me; Peggy, Dan Thirkill, Lynn Alley, and who knows who else. “Don’t screw this up” I said to myself. Without going into a lot of detail I’ll just say that the landing was ugly, but it was less ugly than the previous flight. The good part was I touched down where I wanted.

Disappointments
I could have flown much longer had I made better turns. That will come in time. I’m still trying to figure out this plane.

Firsts
Most time spent in the air – One hour, forty-five minutes
Most time spent ridge soaring – One hour, thirty minutes
Most altitude gained – 3000 feet
Max altitude – 11,500 feet

Lessons learned
Don’t be afraid to use a steeper bank angle in a thermal.
Fly a wider pattern.
Don’t rush the landing.
Most importantly --Don’t think about what others may think of your flying. Once upon a time they were a young pilot too.

I have been very blessed and I am very grateful to be able to fly. As I was passing through 11,000 feet I called Peggy on the radio and said, “You should see the view from up here!” On the horizon I could clearly see the snow capped Uintah Mountains (and they were beckoning to me). I can hardly wait for the next flight, to have new firsts, to achieve even more than I have on this flight. Truly, soaring is the poetry of flight.

Six Word Memoir

Okay...I'm up for Tobi's challenge to create a six word memoir. (See http://www.tobiwilkinson.blogspot.com) To understand you may have to ask Peggy, my parents, or my fourth grade teacher.

"I'm attracted to windows, and dreaming."

Analog versus digital

Before I get a reminder (from Tobi) that I need to write more often, here's the latest buzz. But first, a little perspective.

I once had a discussion with someone regarding analog versus digital. It was their contention that even personality can be defined as such. I had a hard time wrapping brain cells around that. Personally I prefer the analog world. In my world of electronics it seems that designers (especially programmers) want everything done behind the scenes so that the user has to do nothing, more importantly they need to know nothing. I have vehemently fought the powers that promote this idea, so much so, that in some circles I have been given a nickname, "DH" for dead horse, as in beating a dead horse. All because I stick to my principles and don't back down. Give me meters with swinging needles, spectrum analyzers with a knob to turn or even an old fashioned clock with second hand. That's the world I'm the happiest. I am analog.

Now you might wonder where I'm going with this. Yesterday I found out that Peggy bought an iPod. Being a skeptic, I was, well...skeptical. Since Peggy was packing for a trip she asked me to load some music on it. Happy to oblige, I took the little gadget with the all too familiar white cable earpieces and with sarcastic glee I rubbed my hands together and said, "Let's see how much analog music I can cram into one gigabyte."

I pulled out some favorite CD's (yeah, I know…they're digital...but I justify it because they are mostly remastered analog recordings). After amassing over eight hours of music I found that I had filled it up halfway. Not willing to give up on my mantra of "Give me analog, or give me death" I thought surely the sound quality must have suffered with all the compression. But I found I was wrong.

I thought of all the times where I could use a little gadget like this; all the times I wish I could shut out the world but not be constrained with bulky headphones or a CD player. Hmm. This could be pretty fun while out on a long bike ride. I had to admit to Peggy that I wanted one of my own.

I won't give up my stand on analog versus digital, but digital seems pretty cool…in an analog kind of way.

Flight #3

I flew my plane in Logan yesterday. There wasn't a whole lot of lift but I did have fun. I got off tow on the ridge east of the airport and practiced figure eight turns until it was time to head for the airport. It was one of the longest straight glides I've done and a testament to the potential this plane has for making long flights. I would have flown again but I pulled my plane off the runway and got on some soft ground with tall grass. The temperature was about 84 degrees and it took about 20 minutes to get the plane to the taxiway. By that time I was out of gas (physically). I would have had some pictures but I forgot to put in the flash card for Peggy; a modern equivalent of not loading film in the camera.

Coleman (Updated with picture 20 May 2008)

UPDATE: I looked on eBay and mine are the nicest by far. I found a date stamped on the bottom. The 220E was made in June 1963 and the 220F was made in May 1971.

Recently Peggy and I found two old Coleman lanterns at garage sales...and they were cheap. One was $5 and the other was $10. I can't imagine why anyone would sell these. Knowing Coleman's reputation, and also knowing that parts are still available, we happily took them home. Oddly, the more expensive one was in the worst shape. There was soot all over the inside of the globe and hood; it was a mess. They cleaned up nicely. I put in some gas but neither would pump up. I went to the Coleman web site and downloaded a manual. Judging by the picture in the manual I figure these lanterns are about 40 years old. After looking at the parts breakdown I determined that each needed a new cup on the pump. I placed an order on Coleman's site on Monday. It's Thursday and the parts arrived. To my surprise the cups are made of leather. They were easily replaced and each lantern pumped up nicely. I lit the lanterns and let them burn for about 30 minutes. These lanterns sell new for $59.99. I've only invested about $14 each. Even if I never go camping again they will be great when the power goes out.

At one of the garage sales we also got a Coleman stove (for $10) that runs on either Coleman fuel or unleaded gas. It was such a greasy mess! The owner had never taken care of it. We spent a couple hours completley stripping it down, cleaning it and putting it back together. Now it works as good as new. We will keep this stove with our emergency supplies. We already have Coleman and Camp Chef propane stoves and the addition of a duel fuel stove could really be handy.

Nearly 48 hours has passed since my two flights in my Pik-20. It still seems a bit surreal. Did it really happen? Fortunately, pictures don’t lie and they jog my memory back to that precise moment.

Bill Bailie, a friend and fellow pilot, volunteered to come along and help Peggy and myself to set up the plane, run the wing, etc. His generosity is amazing. Bill, I owe you. After rigging the plane I sat in it for a few minutes and familiarized myself with the feel of the cozy cockpit, operated the flaps and made simulated radio calls, while Peggy snapped pictures. I found that I was a bit tongue twisted trying to say “…runway one-seven…” I’m sure it was the nerves.

I finally decided that I was ready and we towed my plane from the ramp to the active runway. During those few minutes of waiting for the tow plane a voice in my head kept saying louder and louder, “I’m really going to fly!” The tow plane arrived and Bill hooked up the rope. My heart started to beat faster. I sat for a moment hoping that I would remember all my training because I really needed it. I gave the thumbs up to Bill, a signal that I was ready to go, and then I called the tow pilot, “Tow plane this is glider, ready for take off.”

I was focused on the tow plane and wanted to stay behind it. Okay, I was a bit too focused because I let the left wing drop and I think it scraped the ground but I was able to recover. Half a moment later my plane, to my surprise, leapt off the ground. I had to force the stick forward to keep it from “ballooning” too high. I think my butt puckered. I was learning how sensitive it was to control inputs. It was like nothing I had ever flown.

At about 500 feet we started the first turn. Things had started to settle down and I was getting in the groove, but that pucker was still there. The air was a little bumpy and I had wanted a smooth first flight. It was too late. Staying behind the tow plane and keeping the tow line taut was not difficult. I released at 3000 AGL (above ground level). It was then I realized I was breathing AND flying.

I made some gentle turns and a couple straight ahead stalls. Then it was time to test the flaps. I rolled in about 30 degrees, watched the nose rise and the airspeed drop. I pushed the nose over until the airspeed indicator showed 50 knots then looked at my relative angle. It seemed rather benign so I repeated the process. I thought, “I can do this”.

I practiced some more left and right turns and when I got to 1000 feet I entered the pattern. Anyone listening to the radio could probably hear the stress in my voce. “Logan traffic this is glider 995 Romeo Juliet entering left downwind for landing on runway 17. I’ll be doing a long roll out and I will advise when I’m clear of the active. Logan.” I may have been yelling, or was I screaming?

As I was headed downwind it didn’t occur to me that I wasn’t losing much altitude. When I was abeam my touchdown point I rolled in the 30 degrees of flap and moments later turned onto the base leg. It still didn’t hit me how high I was, that is, until I turned onto final. Here I was at the end of a 9,000 foot runway and I was way, WAY high. I started putting in more and more flap. It was about 60 degrees or so and I could really feel the drag created by the flaps. The nose was pointed further down than I had ever dreamed just to keep the airspeed at 50 knots. All this had eaten a lot of runway and I could see the numbers at the other end, quite clearly I might add.
I finally reached an altitude where I could roll out of the descent and a moment later the wheel touched down. Bounce, bounce, bounce, bounce…and finally down for good; Ahhh! Terra Firma. My joy clouded my thoughts as I rolled down the runway. Now I had another problem. I was headed for a runway light. The right wing started to drag so I knew I was going too slowly to ground loop. I stood on the right pedal and squeezed the brake. I went off the runway neatly between the lights and stopped, just a couple hundred feet of the end of the runway.

Funny, Peggy took a picture just after I got out of the plane and was standing at the tail, bent over. I didn’t know if I should pass out or throw up, but I was safe on the ground. I remembered the old axiom, “Any landing you can walk away from is a good landing.” At the time I didn’t take much comfort in that thought. I was thinking, “Do I really want to do this again?” Knowing I had to shake it off, I discarded the thought and prepared for the next flight.

The second takeoff was similar to the first but without the wing drop. There were more bumps in the air but my confidence was growing and I gave myself the luxury of looking at the variometer to see how fast we were going up. At one time it was over 1,000 fpm. The next time that happened I was at 3,000 AGL so I released. I circled a couple times then fell out of the thermal and lost about 500 feet. I was able to find it again and it gave me a nice ride to the top, about another 2000 feet. About that time Bill called on the radio and asked my location. “This is Romeo Juliet, 2 miles southeast of the airport and climbing through 9,000 feet.”

The plane was surprisingly nimble and seemed to react to every little burble. It was easy to over control but I found my inputs were getting smaller and smaller. It was a fun 45 minute flight. At one point I put it in a shallow bank and took my hand off the stick and let her fly.

In the pattern I was still high so I made a couple circles. It didn’t help much so I kept adding more and more flap. I think I had about 70 degrees in when I touched down. I stopped almost where I wanted and much shorter than the previous flight.

Finally, I have to say a few words about Peggy. She has endured a lot from me and how she has been able to put up with the flying, well, I’ll never know. She was a real trooper on Friday, helping with the setup of the plane, towing the plane here and there and many other things. She was the voice of reason and could see changes that needed to be made in rigging and derigging the plane and she also started making a list of items to bring along, which I had forgotten. What can I say? I’m the luckiest guy in the world.

Guess what I did today?

Black Snow...Snowbird, UT

The Night Sky

A few years back I had hopes of the seeing the Northern lights. I drove about 40 miles from home to get away from the city. After a couple hours of waiting in the cold I decided that the clouds and city lights were more interesting than the nonexistant Aurora Borealis. I used a Pentax 67 (medium format) with a 105 mm lens and Kodak color film. Yes, I said film. For those who really need to know more details, I'm sorry to say that I just don't remember the f-stop or time of exposure. A best guess is f8 and 20 minutes. My good friend Norm Baker scanned the image and stripped the color.

I've already mentioned that Calvin and Hobbes is a favorite, but I must include The Far Side as well. Many times I got Far Side calendars as gifts. This is one of my favorites. Now don't get me wrong, I love our cats. I just happen to enjoy this dog's demonic thoughts.

Have you ever seen something that stopped you in your tracks and made you wonder just what people were thinking? Here's a great example. Last May we were near Tacoma, Washington to get my plane. As we neared our hotel we had to stop at a light. Peggy noticed the sign and we could hardly believe what we read. I wonder what the daily special was that day? Kibble Bits with a side of Beggin' Strips?

"Left For Dead, My Journey Home From Everest" by Beck Weathers

You might wonder why I read another book about climbing Everest. It isn't so much about climbing. I'm interested in the people and the sacrifices they make in order to reach such a goal. In order to achieve mountaineering's highest achievement Beck Weathers had to sacrifice his relationship with wife and two children.

I've had a particular interest in him ever since I saw the interview he gave, which was included with the IMAX "Everest" DVD. He poignantly states that when you're dying you don't think about your job or the new home you would like to have. What you think about are those you hold close to you.

Left For Dead is equally, if not more candid and revealing about the obsessive, driven life of Beck Weathers. Being awakened from the dead must have been clarifying, though for him, not entirely spiritual. However, he doesn't discount spirituality and finds good in many religions. Beck makes an interesting statement concerning religion.

"I think what truly matters in faith is not what you profess, but whether you live your faith's tenets. Ever the practical individual, if at the end of my days I discover there is no God, only the Void, I will feel I have lost nothing. Rather, by trying to be a better person--even if I fail--I will have gained."

Neil Diamond...

This entry was inspired by my daughter, Tobi. In her blog she says there is a song by Neil Diamond that reminds her of me. I hope she doesn't mind me including her comments here.

"I have always thought that you looked like Neil Diamond. Take it as a compliment because he's an attractive man. Almost any song of his reminds me of you. Brother Love's Traveling Salvation Show just happens to be the funniest."

Something you may not know about me is that I'm a fan of his. Some songs I'm not crazy about and his singing style can grind on me at times. But in 1974 I saw the movie "Jonathon Livingston Seagull" I thought it was a flop but the music (by Neil Diamond) was incredible. I immediately bought the album. I drove my parent's crazy because I was always playing that record. To this day I still listen to it.

Some music is like comfort food. When nothing else will soothe my soul, I listen to Jonathon Livingston Seagull. It may have to do with the fact that it has some very prominent trumpet parts and the theme of the movie is flying. Go figure. Me? Attracted to trumpets and flying?

Cedar Waxwing

Today I was looking out my bedroom window and saw five birds eating crabapples. I didn't know what they were so I had to look for them in my field guide. They are Cedar Waxwing's. They didn't mind me being inside, but as soon as I went outside with my camera they moved to the other side of the tree. I had to go back inside and let them settle down then slowly work my way outside. The very end of the tail feathers look like they have been dipped in bright yellow paint. What you can't see in the picture are two red spots near their wingtips.

Canon 10D, EF-L 80-200 lens, 1/750 @ f 5.6 (I think)

"Into Thin Air"

"Into Thin Air" by Jon Krakauer is about the people who died on a 1996 Mt. Everest climbing expedition. There have been times in the past where I thought it would be cool to climb mountains. Mind you, I was never serious about it, but the thought did seem appealing. I have two cousins that are avid climbers. One of them has climbed Mt. Aconcagua in South America, the highest mountain outside the Himalaya's and Mt. Kilimanjaro in Africa. He had hoped to be on an Everest team in 2000 but I lost track of him.

What I read in the book bothered me. I saw the futility of mountain climbing. While it is amazing to think about the physical abilities of climbers and their capacity to endure pain, it is futile because in order to conquer the odds there has to be many years of sacrifice. What is sacrificed is family.

In the IMAX movie "Everest", there is an extended interview with Beck Weathers, a client of Rob Hall. Weathers nearly died on Everest in 1996. He wrote a book called "Left For Dead", (the next book on my list). In his interview he said, "...when you're dying you don't think about your work or the next house you want. You think about those you hold close in your heart."

Rob Hall, one of the Everest guides who died, was chronicled in the book. Hall said that any reasonably fit person could summit Everest. I believe this brash statement spawned a generation of "peak baggers". If you have money, you can bag a peak. In 1996 dollars it would cost about $60,000 to have Rob Hall guide you for an attempt on Everest. Then you have to provide your own transportation, clothing and conditioning. In a blog about one of the climbers in the 1996 disaster one person writes "[Sandy] Pittman epitomizes for me the ignoble decline of Everest into what it is now - a meaningless symbol of what money can buy you in this world."

It was also noted in the book about some Japanese climbers who passed by two other climbers from India who were dying. In their words they said you can't have morals above 25,000 feet. This is against the grain of everything I've been taught. Had the Good Samaritan been on Everest I believe he would have stopped to help others. Had I been there and not stopped, well, it probably would have haunted me the rest of my days.

Mountain climbing is best left for those who have the ability yet at the same time have no family ties. But the conscious decision to either abandon family or to serve only yourself by not having a family of your own is without merit. Thus the futility remains. Climbing appears to be some peoples attempt to find some version of inner peace. Little do they know that peace is not found at a summit of some lofty and distant mountain, but from God.

Okay...Someone needs to turn off the snow.

I'll let the pictures do the talking...

My Memory of President Hinckley

November 1998

I was playing in the Mormon Symphony and we were preparing for the upcoming Christmas concert. Suddenly President Hinckley walked in. He told us of the importance of music in the Church and how it will play an even bigger role in the future. To prepare for that future we were to be reorganized under the Tabernacle Choir.

After his short speech he was invited to conduct the symphony. We started to play Handel's Messiah. It's a good thing we knew the music well enough to ignore the conductor as he was waving the baton aimlessly in the air. After the final note was played he put the baton down and said, "Whew! I'm glad that's over! I didn't know that song was that long. I was running out of things to do!"

Why a glider?

I've had a lot of people ask why I want to fly a plane without an engine. This is a question that cannot be answered that easily. Do you remember a long time ago in elementary school? I'm talking about an eon ago. You could order books from The Weekly Reader. My Mom said I could order two books. I already had one picked out so I frantically searched for another. I found something about airplanes so I told her that's what I wanted. It turned out to be about sailplanes. Destiny?

Later while in high school I got involved in model aviation, specifically free flight. My dad saw the poor performing models we had built and decided to build from scratch and fly a plane from his youth. I believe it was either a Buzzard Bombshell or Miss America. It really was better than kit built junk. Then I met Bill Gieskieng, a local model airplane nut and eternal tinkerer, who introduced me to some high-powered free flight planes. I was hooked when I saw the long wings.

Years later after I joined the Air Force I wanted to build free flight planes but didn't have a suitable flying area for a plane with no controls. So I got into radio control gliders. I bought an Aquila Grande, a plane with an enormous 124 inch wingspan. I enjoyed countless quiet flights with no engines, fuel residue, or propellers to cut my fingers.

Fast forward a bunch of years...

In February 2004 Peggy gave me an introductory flight in a power plane at the local airport. It was nice but way too short. I considered learning how to fly but secretly longed for something with long wings.

In September 2005 I got an introductory ride in a glider at the airport in Mountain Green, Utah. I had never realized how dynamic the air is and I was hooked on the fact that a pilot can harness this upward energy and convert it to distance and speed. I knew this is what I wanted.

Now I have my Private Pilot Glider license and I can tell you that there is nothing more serene than looking down at the earth from which you have outraced gravity, knowing you got there by your wit, skill, and by the power from long wings at your side. A quiet whistle of wind slips by the vent in the canopy, you can feel your heart beat. Soaring birds come to see what this big white bird has found for a thermal.

That is why I fly sailplanes.

Christmas came early in 2007

December 2007 is a time to remember. As an early Christmas present Peggy sent me to Florida so I could could finish my pilot's license. It was an incredible adventure; 35 flights in 7 days. My instructor, Jan Driessen, was by far the best instructor for me. He gave me confidence and helped me to look beyond my self-imposed limitations. I also have to give credit to Knut Kjenslie (the owner of Seminole-Lake Gliderport and my flight examiner) and Jim Gager (another instructor) for giving me an experience that I will never forget. I also have to give credit to Wiley, the tow pilot. He always knew where to take me to find a thermal. Watching Wiley land the tow plane was also a treat. More often that not he would slip to a landing and made it look all so easy.

Knut shook my hand after and congratulated me after my check ride. I was excited to be done but the reality of the moment didn't sink in. I told my instructor, Jan, that I had passed. He wasn't content with a handshake but gave me a big hug and said, "I knew you could do it!" The next day I was on my way to the Orlando airport when it struck me, "I'm a pilot...I really am a pilot!" More than once on the flight home I pulled out my logbook and looked at my new license just to make sure it was real and that Knut didn't use some magic disappearing ink.

The last 6 weeks have dragged by as I wait for winter to end... HA! It has just barely started. The warm Florida weather spoiled me and I long to pull my plane out of its trailer to take her on the maiden flight with me as her pilot.

Summer storm at Snowbird, Utah

On September 10, 2005 a powerful storm blew through the area. Although I had stood on this spot hundreds of times over the years I had never seen anything like this. I was still getting used to my then new Canon 10d camera. Without thinking I just started shooting.

My Sailplane

Pik-20B

Span - 15 meters (49.2 ft.)

Seats - 1

Glide Ratio - 40:1

"Alligator Rock"

I found this rock formation while on a hike with friends Chuck Leaghty and Kim Groll on 10 Oct 2005. At first I was struck by the angle of the rock, then later realized that it looked like an alligator.