In my final New England autumn, I embarked on a pilgrimage to Hunger Mountain, known only from the skies. Climbing through humid woods, I lost my shirt to a dust devil on the summit, an unexpected twist in my adventure.
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On that remarkable Memorial Day, as I groomed the cat on the porch, fur wads defied gravity, hinting at something extraordinary. It turned out to be our region's greatest soaring day, with towering cumulus clouds. Yet, I was confined to short flights and lessons, watching as others seized the skies, making history.
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"Until then, this one goes into my book as the GRANDEST THERMAL EVER. And the magic ingredient was, it found us exactly when we needed it least, painting the sky with a brush of unforgettable wonder."
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Crystal Squadron celebrates two diamond victories, with pilots mastering Mojave's thermals and tackling Owens Valley heat. Mike Koerner's 456-mile journey to Elko showcases strategic prowess amidst shifting lift and cirrus challenges.
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"After running alongside, catching a wingtip, and proudly helping the pilot push off, I was anxious to know how in the world he got this far on such a weak day, but first extended a smiling hand, 'Hi, I’m Dale.' That’s when he chose to remove his parachute, staring beyond my ear for signs of human activity at our little terminal building. Crickets, as they say."
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I got bored and worked my feet down through those openings beside the aft pedals, so my legs were hanging straight into a coffin size space below the floorboards. This left no quick access to rudder control, revealing more about my judgment than any supposed trust in that particular front-seater. And worse, having committed the sin, it was impossible to get my feet back up…
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