It was July 15, 1984. I was flying in the Region 1 National Qualifying Competition in Chelan, WA. The task for the day was a race to goal from Chelan Butte to Simms Corner, a 30-some mile milk-run.
I had made goal but my time was so slow that the goal keepers had gone home. When I radioed in from 7,500 feet and seven miles out announcing that I was on final glide to goal they responded from a westbound car (lots of wind noise and laughter drowning them out) "Whatever", they shouted.
What the photos do and don't show is who was on the leader
board. The photo shows twelve pilots
listed and I’m not on the list for good reason.
What it doesn’t show is what place I was in. You would have to read the tiny print on the
pages below. Probably something like 30th
place or something. I don’t recall but
it wasn’t pretty.
Diving towards the finish line I was expecting a brass band
because I had been in the air for hours and it was the first time I had ever
made a goal in a competition.........Instead I got laughter.......and zero wind
with a very high altitude density in the LZ.
Consequently, I pounded in pretty hard and bent the heck out of my
downtubes for which I was awarded a lecture on how to land the Attack Duck by
the Wills Wing President and a lesson on straightening downtubes (a skill I had
already, unfortunately mastered). I
accepted both with appropriate humility.
I console myself thinking that I was light on the 180 Attack
Duck and that it was hard to land. Or
maybe it was just me.
A legend in my own mind.
