The Sand Man Cometh

Standing on the small head of a rather large rock, perched on the side of a mountain staring down at a descending sea of trees beneath my feet.  Wings sniffing the air with anticipation.  With each preparatory lift, the left wing would raise up with pressure unbalancing the control frame causing me to lay the base bar back on the cliff to regain control.

Peter Judge

A thermal was lighting off, Tom Lanning and Russ Kelley were in a thermal off toward the ski area.  Tom was climbing quick.  I wanted to be in the air.  I lifted my wings once more, adjusted the pitch of the nose, felt things neutral and yelled - CLEAR!  I began my run down the steep face of the rock and immediately felt my left wing get lifted.  I remember saying - "Oh Crap" out loud.

Tom Lanning

I punched through it and dove into the glider trying to get it into the air so I could correct the turn that was beginning to initiate.  I brought the nose around in the opposite direction initiating a left turn, away from where I wanted to go, but the safest thing I could do with the situation at hand.  I glided for a 100 yards and turned back to race over to Tom and Russ.

I caught a climb before getting to them and started turning tight.  Russ came over above me and I lost sight of him.  I was hoping he wasn't in the way as I was cranking it up and trying to climb fast.  Quickly I ascended above the radio towers and up over the back of Mt. Ascutney.  As I stayed in the climb behind the mountain, it was fizzling out a bit so I decided to find something else.  Tom and I found a nice climb with a strong core and took a few turns in it.  We had a bit of trouble syncing up our turns, both a little hesitant and wondering what the other was going to do.

Cummies popping early and filling the sky.

After climbing a few hundred feet, Tom left and decided to get something better.  I stayed and centered into the part I wanted - the core.  This thing was small but strong, and I quickly climbed up a couple thousand feet.  Kip in the meantime, was already off the mountain to the south and circling in another thermal under the same cloud.  He was climbing, but not too fast.  My climb started to bleed off so I started searching after doing some circles trying to relocate it.

Portsmouth

I glided toward Kip figuring something was between he and I that was stronger, and if not, I would take what he had and make the best of it.  Sure enough, half way to him there was a nice thermal cooking up.  I banked up and took it to cloudbase at 8200'.  Tom meanwhile was back at the mountain, low, circling with other gliders trying to stay alive.  I was concerned he was going to land, but figure if anyone would make it back out of there, it was him.

Dover, NH.  Maine in background.

Once I hit base, I was ready to RACE!  After a week at the ECC learning what my Combat could really do, I was ready to let lose on what looked to be the perfect day for it in New England (we don't get very many 'racing' days).  I pulled the VG and CG as I took my last circles before I'd was going to visit the White Room.  As I came out of the last turn, I was getting cloud suck.  I stuffed the bar and raced toward Claremont at 50+ miles/hour.

Pease Airbase.  Hampton Beach. Rye, NH

I came under the next cloud and found a strong climb and went back to base.  As I was circling, I watched Kip try to fly to me as fast as his Sport 2 would go.  He experienced the same thing I was going through last year, instead of flying fast, you end up diving at the ground.  I lost sight of him as I hit base and tore off toward the next cloud between Claremont and Newport.  I thought he was done for but he ended up making it to Epsom, NH later in the day!

Under the next cloud things started to change.  I had raced over, but now it was taking me a while to climb back up.  I watched as Tom came in over my head, and Jeff Curtis was slowly making his way toward us in his Sport 2, still a few miles away.  Tom went to base and started to head toward Sunapee/Kearsarge.  I decided to follow figuring I would make up the altitude later.

I found a nice strong climb around Newport and spun it up to base while Tom continued on.  Jake came racing over from Claremont and got in the good stuff as I was leaving on my trek toward Kearsarge.  Tom had tanked up and left earlier, but I still had an eye on him.  Over Lake Sunapee, I decided to stop for another climb over the lake, this one turned out to be much weaker. I lost sight of Tom once he got below the horizon line, and went in under the next cloud.

It was now sinking in on how different the day was turning out to be over here compared to back to the west.  Thermals were not showing up in the same places under each cloud, and although the occasional strong climb existed, there were more often weaker climbs at 200 to 400fpm instead of the 800 back toward the mountain...and even 1100fpm in one thermal.

Long Sands York Beach, ME

As I wallowed in light lift trying to get back above 6500', I watched Jake take a different line over Sunapee and ride cloudbase down past Bradford.  Tom was still lower than the horizon and even though it was the direction I wanted to go, the cloud line was better to the south.  I started working my way over and found another light climb southeast of Lake Sunapee.  As I circled in that, a sailplane came racing toward me and we exchanged waves, then commenced to do the dance.

After a few hundred feet, he decided it wasn't that great here and moved on.  I was stuck, I had a long glide to the fields in Henniker, and I wanted to make sure I had the altitude in case I couldn't find the good conditions again.  At around 7000' I had enough and headed to a better looking cloud to the southeast.  Here I went back to cloudbase and my body started to revolt.

Cape Neddick w/ Nubble Lighthouse under the wingtip.

I had been battling off a cold all week, and Saturday morning I could tell it would be gone with one more day.  I was feeling pretty good.  Saturday night, I tried to go to bed early but I just wasn't tired.  I laid in bed for over an hour trying to sleep.  No luck.  I eventually fell asleep but awoke a few times in the night and only ended up with 5 hours of broken sleep.  Combine this with spending an hour up in the clouds and cold temperatures, and my cold had come back in full bloom.

I spent the remainder of the flight with the chills, sniffles, and my lungs filling with fluid.  Not exactly how I wanted to feel while going Cross Country in a hang-glider.  As I approached Concord jumping from cloud to cloud, I was working my way to the North to go around the city.  I saw the fields in Henniker that I landed at weeks before, drifting well behind me.  I knew I had now busted my 50 mile mark which I have been trying to get past this season in New England.

I contemplated landing every time I got back above 6200' all the way to cloudbase at 8000'+.  I kept telling myself, one more and that's it, I'm going to land and warm up, take a nap, and wait for a ride.  Honestly, I don't know what kept me going this day.  Getting as close to the beach as I could?  Thinking everyone else got there?  Just because?  I really didn't feel well, and after my stomach bothered me, I got dizzy a few times, and at one point even thought I was seeing things, I really felt like I should get on the ground.  But then it would all go away, and I would think about what I had to do next to get to the next landable section of the journey.

This continued on all the way to Nottingham.  That was the last spot I got to cloudbase.  I spent the rest of the flight picking fields I would land in but gliding closer and closer to the coast.  Occasionally  I would find a small thermal to turn in and gain a few hundred or a thousand feet before it would peter out.  I kept hearing Tom call out his position from time to time.  He was north of me for most of the flight after Concord but I could never see him.  Nor could I could talk back due to equipment malfunctions with my PTT.

Cape Neddick

My flight path began to change as I neared the coast 25 to 30 miles out.  I spent the entire day heading downwind toward Hampton Beach, but now I was drifting in thermals directly toward Portsmouth, NH with controlled airspace.  I kept trying to edge toward Hampton but there was a blue hole with no clouds and it was crossing upwind to get there.  I knew the winds had shifted Westerly, so I changed course and started to fly toward Dover, NH enroute to Kittery, ME, or York, ME.

I last heard Tom saying he was on glide to Rochester Airport.  I considered trying to get there, now behind and north of me, so we could be in the same place for a chase car.  That was a brief thought that kept being overruled by the desire to make it as close as I possibly could to the beach, but I was pretty sure I wasn't going to make the coast.

As I passed over Dover looking for a climb, I snagged one on the other side gliding toward a golf course I thought for sure was my LZ.  This golf course is where Tom ended up landing in South Berwick, ME.  (Glad I didn't go backwards to Rochester).  I climbed up from 3200ft. to 3900ft. before the thermal bled out.  I saw a cummie popping near Mt. Agamenticus, 5 miles in the middle of this huge forest between me and the beach.

The winds were now more SW and I could smell the ocean. Going for the cloud was a big risk, there were no LZ's out there, and it put me 2 miles downwind of the crummy bailouts I would need.  I decided to try for it and possibly head right to Ogunquit, 11 miles on the other side of this forest, or cut back upwind to the bailouts I saw.

My glide was steady for some time out here and I had run into no major sink.  As a matter of fact, I hadn't really hit anything more than 200fpm down.  I went for it.  halfway there the cummie disappeared.  I shook my head, grinned, and called it a tease.  I still glided to the area hoping to find scraps of a climb, but when I arrived, I didn't find it and could not waste any altitude searching.  I was now left with 2400', 2 miles downwind of my bailouts, and 6.7 miles from York Beach (the closest beach landing I could get).

I eyed the coastline at York Beach, I knew I could get there if my glide stayed the same as it had.  I also had Ogunquit but I couldn't remember a beach there, only rocky shoreline.  I decided to go for York Beach (Long Sands).  I could see Short Sands and plenty of beach showing so I knew in my subconscious the beach was safe to land on - Low Tide.

Halfway there I hit sink.  UGGH!!! I started looking around assessing bailouts in my vicinity.  I eyed someone's yard that bordered a private pond, a field that was now full of 5 or 10 ft. trees, the fields I had as bailouts but were now behind and upwind, and not exactly within my glide.  I thought about Tom spending the night digging me out of a forest in the middle of nowhere.  About that time the sink alarm shut off, I was done flying through whatever air that existed there, and I was back on my glide toward Long Sands, crossing upwind.  All was well again.

I passed over I-95 at 1500' and 2 miles out.  I saw Short Sands Beach in York Harbor and knew I could switch to a downwind leg, turn, and land into the wind on the 'crowded' beach if anything else happened.  But even flying upwind cross, I was doing good on my glide.  I had this, I knew I had it.  But I still kept telling myself - "I can do this!" and watching my instruments to make sure I wasn't flying faster than Best Glide in my impatience.

I drew nearer, and I now saw all the power lines sticking up between the houses and the beach.  I had to clear those.  Again, if all stays as it is, I will make this.  As I write this, I hear my friend Ollie Gregory at the Team Challenge saying - "There's no squeaking in TEAM CHALLENGE!"  :-D  I was definitely squeaking.  Like a thousand church mice.

I passed over the wires arriving at the beach between 200' and 300'.  PHEW!!!  I did it!  Now to focus.  I looked for an empty spot on the beach, which was fairly empty but people were scattered all over making it difficult to find a patch big enough for my final.  I found one, flew downwind toward the rocks on Cape Neddick, heading out to Nubble Lighthouse.  I turned onto base toward the ocean and knew I could soar these rocks.

I really considered doing that for a while but I overruled the thought with the practical need for an LZ.  If I soar the rocky shoreline, people will start walking toward me watching and taking pictures, putting a mass of spectators between me and any empty spots of beach, no good.  After a long day, and everything my body was going through, I decided to take the empty spot while I had it.

I flew out over the water to bleed off altitude, turned back inland for a base, then turned onto final.  As I was coming in, this man and his wife were between me and the sand I wanted to be on.  I yelled - LOOK OUT!!!  He just stood there staring at me as I strafed him with my Combat.  I flew over their heads and came down into ground effect.  The winds were blowing 13 to 15 mph right down the beach providing a nice headwind to flare into.  I eased the nose up testing the flare timing, waited, then eased it out for a nice 1/2 step landing. 

I was quickly approached by curious bystanders with tons of questions.  They were shocked I had launched in Vermont and landed in York Beach, ME.  Some didn't believe me and were looking for my engine.  I answered questions, took some pictures, lectured myself for squeaking, grinned ear to ear, and then found a place to set my wings down.

I climbed out of my glider and a couple directed me to all the amenities - bathrooms, ice cream stand (did you say ice cream?!?!), general store, and a restaurant 2 miles down the beach.  I broke down and wrestled with the extremely poor cell reception on the beach (thanks Verizon - can you hear me now!?), trying to get word out to Tom and see if I had a ride, or needed to find one back to my car; which we left in Concord, NH that morning in case something like this happened.

Finally I heard back that Tom was nearby (10.6 miles away) and that a ride was enroute.  He told me to get ready to buy everyone Lobster Dinners (a tradition for pilots that make the beach) for the drivers and passengers in the car. 

Prize for the day.

I finished securing all my stuff and walked across the street for a nice Hot Fudge Sundae.  MMMMM.  Afterwards, I returned to the ocean, rolled my pants up, and waded in the water for 30 minutes making phone calls and getting text messages out.  Seemingly, standing in the ocean was the only place I could get service...

I got off the phone and did some Tai Chi in the water, then decided to haul my harness 2 miles up the beach to the restaurant to see what time they closed.  I arrived to find them closed up for the night and then hiked back to my glider enjoying the fresh night air, the moon, the sea breeze, and the waves crashing.


By the time Jeff showed up with Tom in the car, it was after 10pm and most places were closed.  A local police officer told us of some places near Short Sands that stay open late, so we headed over there to try and get lobsters.  My friend and fellow pilot Allen had followed Jeff over in his own vehicle to join in the celebration.

Sadly, we found no one that would cook lobsters that late, but we did find an open restaurant (The Bluff Hotel) where we sat and shared stories of the day, laughed, and had dinner.  A great day. 

John Z contacted me later to offer his congratulations and called me 'Sand Man'.  Hence the title of the article.  It was only the next day that I learned what an honor it was to land at the beach.  Under 20 pilots have made the coast in 25 years of Cross Country Hang-Gliding in New England.  ((CORRECTION: I am only the 15th person to land on the beach))  Truly and honor.  See the list below of the Vermont Hang Gliding Association Sand Men.

Air Time: 4hrs and 18min
Distance: 95 miles (straight line distance), 100 miles total.
Max Altitude: 8200' MSL

Thanks go out to Peter Judge for driving us up.  Jeff Curtis for the retrieve.  Ryan and bystander for the wire crew.  Mt. Ascutney State Park for the great flying site.  Thank you to the entire flying community up here (and friends from across the country) for your support and encouragement. 

Tom's Blog Post for the Day - http://skyout.blogspot.com/2012/06/maine-line.html

Thanks Dennis Cavagnaro for the historical list -

VHGA Sand Men

1. Nelson Howe
2. Randy Adams
3. Teddy Hasenfus
4. Jon Szarek
5. Steve Arndt
6. Richie Laport
7. Timmy Donovan
8. Jeff Bernard
9. John Arrison
10. Dennis Cavagnro
11. Tom Lanning
12. Greg Hanlon
13. Tim Hoopes
14. Dan McGonagle
15. Randy Brown