by Christy Huddle

Doug dropped me off at Dulles on his way to work. In line for check-in, I was confronted by the clerk who was asking me if that was my hang glider and was I going on to Calgary. Seems she had done the same to Will Jenkins a few days before. Luckily, I'd done my homework (as she told me later) since, after calling for numbers and then measuring my hang glider, she returned to tell me that it was ok to go. Just to make sure the baggage handlers didn't make the same mistake of assuming it too large for MD-80 airplane on the Dallas/Fort Worth-Calgary, Canada leg, I borrowed a felt tip marker from the clerk and wrote in big letters: THIS FITS THE MD-80.

Ran into Larry, Will, JR, and Homer on my first full day in Golden. They were looking glum having run into more bad weather than good. My start at Golden wasn't that much better, but I was there to have fun and, by god, I had fun. The Kellers (Doug and Karen) had taken me under their wing and, besides picking me up at the airport, were sharing their campground with me, and had arranged for a huge tent (just for me), a sleeping bag, and a mat. We spent the first couple of days making adjustments to keep the rain from really putting a damper on our space. I didn't have my first flight until the second day when I noticed gliders were up while walking back from the town of Golden. We all went up to try it ou and I ended up with a 35 minute flight. Not much for Golden, but a start. I was there to participate in a cross-country clinic and their regional competition, the Western Canadian Championships. Just for fun, mind you.

The next few days I only got in two more fairly short flights inbetween bouts of less than optimal weather. On the last day of the clinic, we finally enjoyed some decent conditions. Conditions were light, but most were getting up after a struggle. I launched and headed for the antennas "that always are working", but weren't for me. I continued on down the spine to the cliff end, figuring (rightly) that I could ridge soar the end given the north wind, and that the narrow valley (more like a gap) would be sheltered enough to let some thermals grow to a decent size. The one I finally snagged took me to 2K over Mount 7. From there I jumped the gap to the south and tried for an hour to get up over Capristo (probably spelled wrong), finally giving up and following some other pilots down the valley. I eked out a total of 13.3 miles, ending with an easy landing in a strong north wind next to the main road.

Back at camp for the end of the clinic party, followed by the parapanties party which was much better served with (free) beer. I pumped the local pilots for tips on flying the range.

The next day was the first day of the meet and we were blessed with the best conditions of the 9 days I was in Golden. It was blowing from the south and our task was to fly to a point 18.1 miles down the ridge and a return to the main LZ (about 15 miles return). I launched midpack when a local pilot helping on the wires said, "here comes a nice cycle" and got right up off launch. It took me a while to get to Mount 7 since the headwind was doing havoc with my glide. I made it there and went to the south end where I'd learned the night before was the place to find lift. It was there and it took me to 2K over Mount 7. By the time I reached Capristo, I was below ridge level, but once again went to the spot where they said I would be able to get up again, and once again I was beaming out.

I followed the ridge, working lift when I needed and enjoying the scenery at all times: steep sided ridge top with large pockets of snow everywhere, sloping down to a green valley with a river running through it.

By the time I reached the turnpoint, the ridge at that end was in shade and I wasn't getting high enough to make above ridgetop level. I flew into the gap on the south side of the turnpoint, marked it on the GPS, and headed back, hoping to find something coming up the side. No luck there. At 6K msl I slanted off towards the road, pushing out in lift and pulling in in sink - actually, just following the instructions of the Tangent. I had a good landing in a nice big field where another pilot on our team of three (all Americans) had landed. The third pilot hadn't made it to the turnpoint, but had already been retrieved by our driver, Misty. She was a great driver (greeted me with a beer), but probably not for long since she's taking hang gliding lessons.

The next morning wasn't going to be flyable at Mount 7, so I accompanied Stewart Midwinter and another pilot to Swansea, a couple of hours down the valley. I was coming down with a cold (making the rounds in the campground) so wasn't thrilled by the nasty walk in that included eleven switchbacks through the trees with the trail so narrow you had to turn your body, but not the glider, to make the turns. I couldn't do it. Lucky for me Stewart took pity on me (and I took his paraglider). I ended up getting a short 20 minute flight most of it on a lower ridge. By the time we got back to Golden, the sore throat was raging. I couldn't go to bed since my tent was surrounded by the party going on.

The last day of the meet we had really light conditions. I was hoping some airtime would make me feel better, but it didn't work out. After hanging around in the hot sun for several hours, I launched in dead calm (to avoid the 90 degree 10 mph cross), into a thermal that took me over launch. After circling for 10 minutes, I found my stomach in rebellion so I headed out to land. We packed up after the brief awards ceremony (for the record, I tied for 10th out of 20), and headed back to Calgary where I spent the night with the Kellers. Uneventful flight home the next day. Doug, bless his heart, was at the airport to pick me up at 1:30 am, having made a test run the night before based on faulty information I'd given him. Eh oui.