THE FAT LADY DOESN'T SING 'TILL SUNSET (PART SEVEN)
Forty miles from home the August afternoon is pure Mojave, vacuous, shimmering, and HOT. We're stuck again at Silver Queen, where we first fell behind Tango Whiskey weeks earlier. Since then, even bloody-kneed low in the mountains we'd been high enough to enjoy comfy cockpit temps, but now 1500 feet above the desert we're sweltering.As before, we got here first, but low, and Tango Whiskey had the juice to sail overhead and leave us behind one more time. Now the day's subsiding noticeably. Are we outta luck or is there time? Doesn't look good, but there's no reason not to try.Halfway along their final glide TW radios they flew through heavy sink, then found milk and honey just beyond, and are turning that into a high speed finish.Apparently the shearline passed through ahead of schedule like it did at Little Lake. Both sorties missed the bus, but our longer-winged sister caught it further down the road. We might have caught it ourselves if we’d borne on, and gotten home first after all, but we couldn't know it was there and had to stop at this last high ground near an airstrip. After failing to find what’s already gone we’re too low to go on.“Tango Whiskey, do us a favor. After you land go check the tires on our trailer.”“Wilco, Roger. Good luck. Tango Whiskey out.”Time for another miracle, but every passing moment withers the chance of one. We have two options: choose from several nearby airstrips and land, sooner the better for an aero retrieve, or go for broke with nothing short of home except a certain dirt strip halfway there. The only reason to delay this decision is to leave the door open for that miracle.
When thou seest an eagle, thou seest a portion of genius;lift up thy head!
William Blake
We probe everywhere around our little hill, never getting high enough to go far before scurrying back to stay aloft. The whole time we see two eagles perched on a boulder watching us. Their electing to sit while we slog round and round confirms no hope of getting away until something changes. But hey, that doesn’t mean give up and land — yet! Did I mention it was HOT?Half an hour later there’s different color in the air a few miles west. Could another shearline be coming? The first one was an interface between morning's southeast and the mild westerly of afternoon. It's still marching deeper into the desert even now, somewhere. And further strengthening of the west wind could produce a second shear essentially like the first. If so, driven by strengthening wind, it would be moving faster... and who knows, our next miracle?The wedge of hazy air pushing that second shear toward us grows increasingly visible as it nears. Lift, if there is any, will be in the clear air this side of it, closer to us. We're tempted to glide out and meet it, but if we fail we might be too low to get back on the hill. We have to wait.Now those eagles vault off the summit, dive into the wind and begin to circle up less than a quarter mile away. Some got it, some don’t, and these guys do! A couple minutes later we begin to climb as well and I quaff the tepid last dram of my water. It may as well be iced champagne.Premature celebration anyone? Yes naiveté, always my main suit.TO BE CONTINUED