Race of Champions

Pardon the long post, but a Really Nifty Something happened at the recent
1-26, 2013, North American Championships held at Moriarty, New Mexico,
recently. Hollywood couldn't have written a more dramatic script, and I'm
guessing some RASidents might enjoy hearing about it. I know I sure enjoyed
witnessing it from the perspective of a ground grunt (aka crewperson for a
fellow competitor in the concurrently run 13.5 Meter Region 9 Super Regional).

Contest Manager Pete Vredenburg apparently had a long-standing brainstorm
stuck in his skull, a brainstorm that being 2013 Contest Manager allowed him
to implement...for the first time ever, so far as I'm aware.

The brainstorm was to have a one-day Race of Champions held the day after the
North American Championships - often incorrectly called "the 1-26 Nationals" -
ended. Going into the 2013 contest, there were 3 former champions competing
for this year's trophy, as well as the reigning champion from the 2012 season.
In other words, going in, if all champions accepted Pete's invitation for a
"Race of Champions" there would be at least 4 competitors, with the
possibility of a 5th should a new first-time champion be crowned.

And that's what happened. Nineteen year-old Daniel Sazhin barely beat
multi-time former champ Ron Schwartz (aka "the Schwartzinator") for the 2013
traveling Champion's Trophy, in a hard-fought contest. It was "the kid's"
first championship, in his first time competing on his own; last year he and
"the Schwartzinator" won the team trophy. Scuttlebutt had it this year Ron
essentially told Daniel, "You're on your own, kid!"

Even more impressive than "the kid's" relative youth, to me anyway, was the
fact that this was Brooklyn, NY-based, Daniel's first visit to Moriarty, a
western high desert site rimmed by mountains...a site at which local knowledge
could be considered a definite asset in deciphering days and lift patterns.
His daily results gave no hint he was a newbie to the area. Ultimately he beat
"the Schwartzinator" by only 20 or so points, so he was eligible to answer
Pete's invitation to reigning and former champions for the 2013 Race of
Champions. Great Stuff even without what followed...

One final day of competition for the concurrently run Region 9 13.5 Meter
Super Regional was scheduled for the day after the 1-26 Championships ended.
After the final 13.5 meter class pilot's meeting, Pete formally introduced the
concept of this year's Race of Champions, and individually asked each eligible
pilot if he would accept the invitation to join in a Race of Champions. The
race would consist of up to 5 competitors, flying a task of their mutual
definition, winner take all, no additional scoring to be done. All five
champions accepted the call: Daniel Sazhin, Ron Schwartz, Bob von Hellens, Bob
Hurni, and Harry Baldwin.

They set themselves a long, ~155 mile speed task. Flying their (~21:1 L/D)
1-26's, every mile would be hard-earned, the more so given the monsoony
weather pattern lowering cloud bases and generating daily airmass thunderstorms.

A bit of insight into the competitors is in order here. Hollywood would do the
same, after all! Former - multi-time, I believe, but I could be wrong on this
- champion Bob von Hellens appeared to me to be perhaps in his early sixties.
Reigning champion, Bob Hurni, won his first-ever championship last year in
almost certainly his 20th-plus year of competing; I'd guess he's in his
seventies. I believe Ron Schwartz is in his early seventies, though from
looks, manner and energy level he might well be 10 to 15 years younger.
Daniel would have all the advantages (and disadvantages) of youth. Harry
Baldwin - 4-time former champion - I believe to be somewhere between 83 and
85. Quite a spread, bringing a wealth of 1-26 experience to the table.

Expressing a purely personal opinion, prior to crewing for a 13.5 meter
competitor (a nifty tale in itself!), I'd never before attended any contest
since entering soaring in 1972. Bob Hurni was the only champion I'd met prior
to this year's contest, some 20+ years ago when our soaring-related paths
happened to cross. Essentially, prior to the contest everything I knew of
these champions was what I'd gleaned in 40+ years of memorizing "Soaring"
magazine. It was a real pleasure to find them each gracious, friendly and
"merely real people" when interacting one-on-one from the perspective of an
unknown-to-them ground grunt.

Given the basis of the Race of Champions, and given what I'd learned during
the course of crewing during the concurrently-run contests, and given what I
imagined I knew of the overall situation, I hoped for a day conducive to
competitive racing, mentally wished each competitor well, and gave my nod to
Harry Baldwin as my personal/sentimental favorite, since he'd noted this would
be his last time as a competitor at the 1-26 Championships; next year he
expected to crew. "The kid;" "the old man;" "the Schwartzinator;" stooped,
quiet, friendly Bob Hurni; and reserved Bob von Hellens. None of them would be
competing in the 2013 Race of Champions had they not previously demonstrated
competitiveness, skill, tenacity and speed. It was shaping up to be something
truly dynamic and fun to peripherally experience!

And so it proved.

After my duties assisting launching my pilot and the fleet, I retired with a
handheld to the comfort of the air-conditioned retrieve desk. Monitoring 123.3
and Unicom, the airwaves were generally silent. It seemed none of the
champions wanted to give any of their competitors any possible competitive
advantage through radio use. Unless they had a competitor in sight, all their
motivation, drive and desire was drawn from within.

Several hours later, retrieve phone calls began to arrive, initially from 13.5
meter competitors. I couldn't volunteer to help on a retrieve until my pilot
was accounted for. He eventually completed the day's task (1st for the day,
his 2nd day win; woo hoo!; this retrieve stuff is simple, especially when
"your ship" is a 200-pound, 11-meter span, Sparrowhawk; I'd had to retrieve it
only on the first day). Soon after we disassembled the ship for the day and
returned to the Retrieve Office, two more or less simultaneous phone calls
arrived from 1-26-ers. "The Schwartzinator" had landed at a strip about 15
miles south of Moriarty. The landing location suggested he was on his way to
the final turnpoint. The next phone call - from Bob von Hellens - suggested
perhaps he and "the Schwartzinator" might have raced each other into the
ground; von Hellens was in a field not very far north - on course for the
final turnpoint - from Schwartz. While speculating about the state (fate?) of
the remaining 3 champions, another phone call...from "the Kid"! He's down in a
field about 6 miles *north* of Moriarty...suggesting he was on the leg to or
from the final turn, but farther along than Ron or Bob von H.

My pilot and I volunteer to retrieve "the Kid," competing without a crew. As
we're leaving the field, we see Bob Hurni's ship in the landing pattern. Has
he completed the course? Or has he abandoned the effort? All we can surmise as
we leave the field is "the Kid" almost certainly has the greatest distance of
the landouts, Bob H may or may not be in the lead, and Harry Baldwin's
whereabouts are completely unknown to us (or anyone else!). There's hope for
my sentimental favorite!!!

We retrieve Daniel.

Upon our return we learn Bob Hurni abandoned the task. Where does that put him
relative to "the Kid," who in fact has flown farther than Ron S. and Bob von
H? Every 13.5 meter competitor is accounted for. Harry Baldwin is still
unaccounted for. The day is getting late. Where is Harry Baldwin?!? He's had
at least two early landouts in the North American Championships, and was not a
factor in this year's contest.

Really late in the soaring day comes a phone call. It's Harry Baldwin. He's
landed out off-airport, maybe 3/8 of a mile from the threshold of runway 18.
He says lots of bodies would be helpful on the retrieve.

He reports he (almost!) completed the course. Harry has won the Race of
Champions!!! Volunteers practically stampede to help with the retrieve. We
figure we would be in the way, and opt for dinner (most sit-down restaurants
close early in Moriarty). We can only imagine Harry's state of mind and tale.

Next Morning - Harry Baldwin stayed at the same motel as my pilot and me. The
day after the Race of Champions, we three were in the breakfast nook before
going to the airfield. We congratulate him. A big grin gradually appears on
his face; it goes practically halfway around. He volunteers that when Pete had
preliminarily displayed the trophy that would go to the Champion of Champions,
he decided that instant he REALLY wanted that trophy. He knew he couldn't win
the overall contest. He knew this would be his last hurrah. He said he'd never
seen a more attractive trophy. (It was a hand-carved eagle, entirely of New
Mexican origin...wood, design, artist, paints, etc. There will never be
another like it.) He said he had no idea what any of his competitors were
experiencing on course. He knew only that he was still aloft, and thus still
had a chance.

At the awards ceremony, he added that he was going to do a straight in to the
ground, options permitting, but he was NOT going to quit. He intended to leave
nothing "in the cockpit" so to speak. He was trying to make the field. Runway
18 has some powerlines on its northern approach, and a barbed-wire fence not
far beyond. He figured he could safely make it UNDER the powerlines...but
wasn't certain he could make it OVER the fence. He landed. He said it was the
roughest 1-26 landing he'd ever made. And that's saying something from a man
who probably has well over a hundred off-field landings in a 1-26, many of
them on dirt roads.

He said that after all the banging and bumping stopped, and after all the dust
had cleared away, and after he could see his flight computer, it showed he'd
come to a stop barely within the finish circle! Under the 1-26 rules he would
be scored with speed points!! He said he didn't care at that moment if he had
lost, he knew he'd done his and the day's best. That's what competition - and
life - is all about. Doing your best.

Harry Baldwin. Champion of champions.

Thanks Bob! Simply wonderful story.

On Friday, September 6, 2013 5:50:16 PM UTC-4, Bob Whelan wrote:
Pardon the long post, but a Really Nifty Something happened at the recent

1-26, 2013, North American Championships held at Moriarty, New Mexico,

recently. Hollywood couldn't have written a more dramatic script, and I'm

guessing some RASidents might enjoy hearing about it. I know I sure enjoyed

witnessing it from the perspective of a ground grunt (aka crewperson for a

fellow competitor in the concurrently run 13.5 Meter Region 9 Super Regional).



Contest Manager Pete Vredenburg apparently had a long-standing brainstorm

stuck in his skull, a brainstorm that being 2013 Contest Manager allowed him

to implement...for the first time ever, so far as I'm aware.



The brainstorm was to have a one-day Race of Champions held the day after the

North American Championships - often incorrectly called "the 1-26 Nationals" -

ended. Going into the 2013 contest, there were 3 former champions competing

for this year's trophy, as well as the reigning champion from the 2012 season.

In other words, going in, if all champions accepted Pete's invitation for a

"Race of Champions" there would be at least 4 competitors, with the

possibility of a 5th should a new first-time champion be crowned.



And that's what happened. Nineteen year-old Daniel Sazhin barely beat

multi-time former champ Ron Schwartz (aka "the Schwartzinator") for the 2013

traveling Champion's Trophy, in a hard-fought contest. It was "the kid's"

first championship, in his first time competing on his own; last year he and

"the Schwartzinator" won the team trophy. Scuttlebutt had it this year Ron

essentially told Daniel, "You're on your own, kid!"



Even more impressive than "the kid's" relative youth, to me anyway, was the

fact that this was Brooklyn, NY-based, Daniel's first visit to Moriarty, a

western high desert site rimmed by mountains...a site at which local knowledge

could be considered a definite asset in deciphering days and lift patterns.

His daily results gave no hint he was a newbie to the area. Ultimately he beat

"the Schwartzinator" by only 20 or so points, so he was eligible to answer

Pete's invitation to reigning and former champions for the 2013 Race of

Champions. Great Stuff even without what followed...



One final day of competition for the concurrently run Region 9 13.5 Meter

Super Regional was scheduled for the day after the 1-26 Championships ended.

After the final 13.5 meter class pilot's meeting, Pete formally introduced the

concept of this year's Race of Champions, and individually asked each eligible

pilot if he would accept the invitation to join in a Race of Champions. The

race would consist of up to 5 competitors, flying a task of their mutual

definition, winner take all, no additional scoring to be done. All five

champions accepted the call: Daniel Sazhin, Ron Schwartz, Bob von Hellens, Bob

Hurni, and Harry Baldwin.



They set themselves a long, ~155 mile speed task. Flying their (~21:1 L/D)

1-26's, every mile would be hard-earned, the more so given the monsoony

weather pattern lowering cloud bases and generating daily airmass thunderstorms.



A bit of insight into the competitors is in order here. Hollywood would do the

same, after all! Former - multi-time, I believe, but I could be wrong on this

- champion Bob von Hellens appeared to me to be perhaps in his early sixties.

Reigning champion, Bob Hurni, won his first-ever championship last year in

almost certainly his 20th-plus year of competing; I'd guess he's in his

seventies. I believe Ron Schwartz is in his early seventies, though from

looks, manner and energy level he might well be 10 to 15 years younger.

Daniel would have all the advantages (and disadvantages) of youth. Harry

Baldwin - 4-time former champion - I believe to be somewhere between 83 and

85. Quite a spread, bringing a wealth of 1-26 experience to the table.



Expressing a purely personal opinion, prior to crewing for a 13.5 meter

competitor (a nifty tale in itself!), I'd never before attended any contest

since entering soaring in 1972. Bob Hurni was the only champion I'd met prior

to this year's contest, some 20+ years ago when our soaring-related paths

happened to cross. Essentially, prior to the contest everything I knew of

these champions was what I'd gleaned in 40+ years of memorizing "Soaring"

magazine. It was a real pleasure to find them each gracious, friendly and

"merely real people" when interacting one-on-one from the perspective of an

unknown-to-them ground grunt.



Given the basis of the Race of Champions, and given what I'd learned during

the course of crewing during the concurrently-run contests, and given what I

imagined I knew of the overall situation, I hoped for a day conducive to

competitive racing, mentally wished each competitor well, and gave my nod to

Harry Baldwin as my personal/sentimental favorite, since he'd noted this would

be his last time as a competitor at the 1-26 Championships; next year he

expected to crew. "The kid;" "the old man;" "the Schwartzinator;" stooped,

quiet, friendly Bob Hurni; and reserved Bob von Hellens. None of them would be

competing in the 2013 Race of Champions had they not previously demonstrated

competitiveness, skill, tenacity and speed. It was shaping up to be something

truly dynamic and fun to peripherally experience!



And so it proved.



After my duties assisting launching my pilot and the fleet, I retired with a

handheld to the comfort of the air-conditioned retrieve desk. Monitoring 123.3

and Unicom, the airwaves were generally silent. It seemed none of the

champions wanted to give any of their competitors any possible competitive

advantage through radio use. Unless they had a competitor in sight, all their

motivation, drive and desire was drawn from within.



Several hours later, retrieve phone calls began to arrive, initially from 13.5

meter competitors. I couldn't volunteer to help on a retrieve until my pilot

was accounted for. He eventually completed the day's task (1st for the day,

his 2nd day win; woo hoo!; this retrieve stuff is simple, especially when

"your ship" is a 200-pound, 11-meter span, Sparrowhawk; I'd had to retrieve it

only on the first day). Soon after we disassembled the ship for the day and

returned to the Retrieve Office, two more or less simultaneous phone calls

arrived from 1-26-ers. "The Schwartzinator" had landed at a strip about 15

miles south of Moriarty. The landing location suggested he was on his way to

the final turnpoint. The next phone call - from Bob von Hellens - suggested

perhaps he and "the Schwartzinator" might have raced each other into the

ground; von Hellens was in a field not very far north - on course for the

final turnpoint - from Schwartz. While speculating about the state (fate?) of

the remaining 3 champions, another phone call...from "the Kid"! He's down in a

field about 6 miles *north* of Moriarty...suggesting he was on the leg to or

from the final turn, but farther along than Ron or Bob von H.



My pilot and I volunteer to retrieve "the Kid," competing without a crew. As

we're leaving the field, we see Bob Hurni's ship in the landing pattern. Has

he completed the course? Or has he abandoned the effort? All we can surmise as

we leave the field is "the Kid" almost certainly has the greatest distance of

the landouts, Bob H may or may not be in the lead, and Harry Baldwin's

whereabouts are completely unknown to us (or anyone else!). There's hope for

my sentimental favorite!!!



We retrieve Daniel.



Upon our return we learn Bob Hurni abandoned the task. Where does that put him

relative to "the Kid," who in fact has flown farther than Ron S. and Bob von

H? Every 13.5 meter competitor is accounted for. Harry Baldwin is still

unaccounted for. The day is getting late. Where is Harry Baldwin?!? He's had

at least two early landouts in the North American Championships, and was not a

factor in this year's contest.



Really late in the soaring day comes a phone call. It's Harry Baldwin. He's

landed out off-airport, maybe 3/8 of a mile from the threshold of runway 18.

He says lots of bodies would be helpful on the retrieve.



He reports he (almost!) completed the course. Harry has won the Race of

Champions!!! Volunteers practically stampede to help with the retrieve. We

figure we would be in the way, and opt for dinner (most sit-down restaurants

close early in Moriarty). We can only imagine Harry's state of mind and tale.



Next Morning - Harry Baldwin stayed at the same motel as my pilot and me. The

day after the Race of Champions, we three were in the breakfast nook before

going to the airfield. We congratulate him. A big grin gradually appears on

his face; it goes practically halfway around. He volunteers that when Pete had

preliminarily displayed the trophy that would go to the Champion of Champions,

he decided that instant he REALLY wanted that trophy. He knew he couldn't win

the overall contest. He knew this would be his last hurrah. He said he'd never

seen a more attractive trophy. (It was a hand-carved eagle, entirely of New

Mexican origin...wood, design, artist, paints, etc. There will never be

another like it.) He said he had no idea what any of his competitors were

experiencing on course. He knew only that he was still aloft, and thus still

had a chance.



At the awards ceremony, he added that he was going to do a straight in to the

ground, options permitting, but he was NOT going to quit. He intended to leave

nothing "in the cockpit" so to speak. He was trying to make the field. Runway

18 has some powerlines on its northern approach, and a barbed-wire fence not

far beyond. He figured he could safely make it UNDER the powerlines...but

wasn't certain he could make it OVER the fence. He landed. He said it was the

roughest 1-26 landing he'd ever made. And that's saying something from a man

who probably has well over a hundred off-field landings in a 1-26, many of

them on dirt roads.



He said that after all the banging and bumping stopped, and after all the dust

had cleared away, and after he could see his flight computer, it showed he'd

come to a stop barely within the finish circle! Under the 1-26 rules he would

be scored with speed points!! He said he didn't care at that moment if he had

lost, he knew he'd done his and the day's best. That's what competition - and

life - is all about. Doing your best.



Harry Baldwin. Champion of champions.

Terrific story!

.... and nice meeting you, Bob, in the Sundance hangar.


"Papa3" wrote in message
...
Thanks Bob! Simply wonderful story.

On Friday, September 6, 2013 5:50:16 PM UTC-4, Bob Whelan wrote:
Pardon the long post, but a Really Nifty Something happened at the recent

1-26, 2013, North American Championships held at Moriarty, New Mexico,

recently. Hollywood couldn't have written a more dramatic script, and I'm

guessing some RASidents might enjoy hearing about it. I know I sure
enjoyed

witnessing it from the perspective of a ground grunt (aka crewperson for
a

fellow competitor in the concurrently run 13.5 Meter Region 9 Super
Regional).



Contest Manager Pete Vredenburg apparently had a long-standing brainstorm

stuck in his skull, a brainstorm that being 2013 Contest Manager allowed
him

to implement...for the first time ever, so far as I'm aware.



The brainstorm was to have a one-day Race of Champions held the day after
the

North American Championships - often incorrectly called "the 1-26
Nationals" -

ended. Going into the 2013 contest, there were 3 former champions
competing

for this year's trophy, as well as the reigning champion from the 2012
season.

In other words, going in, if all champions accepted Pete's invitation for
a

"Race of Champions" there would be at least 4 competitors, with the

possibility of a 5th should a new first-time champion be crowned.



And that's what happened. Nineteen year-old Daniel Sazhin barely beat

multi-time former champ Ron Schwartz (aka "the Schwartzinator") for the
2013

traveling Champion's Trophy, in a hard-fought contest. It was "the kid's"

first championship, in his first time competing on his own; last year he
and

"the Schwartzinator" won the team trophy. Scuttlebutt had it this year
Ron

essentially told Daniel, "You're on your own, kid!"



Even more impressive than "the kid's" relative youth, to me anyway, was
the

fact that this was Brooklyn, NY-based, Daniel's first visit to Moriarty,
a

western high desert site rimmed by mountains...a site at which local
knowledge

could be considered a definite asset in deciphering days and lift
patterns.

His daily results gave no hint he was a newbie to the area. Ultimately he
beat

"the Schwartzinator" by only 20 or so points, so he was eligible to
answer

Pete's invitation to reigning and former champions for the 2013 Race of

Champions. Great Stuff even without what followed...



One final day of competition for the concurrently run Region 9 13.5 Meter

Super Regional was scheduled for the day after the 1-26 Championships
ended.

After the final 13.5 meter class pilot's meeting, Pete formally
introduced the

concept of this year's Race of Champions, and individually asked each
eligible

pilot if he would accept the invitation to join in a Race of Champions.
The

race would consist of up to 5 competitors, flying a task of their mutual

definition, winner take all, no additional scoring to be done. All five

champions accepted the call: Daniel Sazhin, Ron Schwartz, Bob von
Hellens, Bob

Hurni, and Harry Baldwin.



They set themselves a long, ~155 mile speed task. Flying their (~21:1
L/D)

1-26's, every mile would be hard-earned, the more so given the monsoony

weather pattern lowering cloud bases and generating daily airmass
thunderstorms.



A bit of insight into the competitors is in order here. Hollywood would
do the

same, after all! Former - multi-time, I believe, but I could be wrong on
this

- champion Bob von Hellens appeared to me to be perhaps in his early
sixties.

Reigning champion, Bob Hurni, won his first-ever championship last year
in

almost certainly his 20th-plus year of competing; I'd guess he's in his

seventies. I believe Ron Schwartz is in his early seventies, though from

looks, manner and energy level he might well be 10 to 15 years younger.

Daniel would have all the advantages (and disadvantages) of youth. Harry

Baldwin - 4-time former champion - I believe to be somewhere between 83
and

85. Quite a spread, bringing a wealth of 1-26 experience to the table.



Expressing a purely personal opinion, prior to crewing for a 13.5 meter

competitor (a nifty tale in itself!), I'd never before attended any
contest

since entering soaring in 1972. Bob Hurni was the only champion I'd met
prior

to this year's contest, some 20+ years ago when our soaring-related paths

happened to cross. Essentially, prior to the contest everything I knew of

these champions was what I'd gleaned in 40+ years of memorizing "Soaring"

magazine. It was a real pleasure to find them each gracious, friendly and

"merely real people" when interacting one-on-one from the perspective of
an

unknown-to-them ground grunt.



Given the basis of the Race of Champions, and given what I'd learned
during

the course of crewing during the concurrently-run contests, and given
what I

imagined I knew of the overall situation, I hoped for a day conducive to

competitive racing, mentally wished each competitor well, and gave my nod
to

Harry Baldwin as my personal/sentimental favorite, since he'd noted this
would

be his last time as a competitor at the 1-26 Championships; next year he

expected to crew. "The kid;" "the old man;" "the Schwartzinator;"
stooped,

quiet, friendly Bob Hurni; and reserved Bob von Hellens. None of them
would be

competing in the 2013 Race of Champions had they not previously
demonstrated

competitiveness, skill, tenacity and speed. It was shaping up to be
something

truly dynamic and fun to peripherally experience!



And so it proved.



After my duties assisting launching my pilot and the fleet, I retired
with a

handheld to the comfort of the air-conditioned retrieve desk. Monitoring
123.3

and Unicom, the airwaves were generally silent. It seemed none of the

champions wanted to give any of their competitors any possible
competitive

advantage through radio use. Unless they had a competitor in sight, all
their

motivation, drive and desire was drawn from within.



Several hours later, retrieve phone calls began to arrive, initially from
13.5

meter competitors. I couldn't volunteer to help on a retrieve until my
pilot

was accounted for. He eventually completed the day's task (1st for the
day,

his 2nd day win; woo hoo!; this retrieve stuff is simple, especially when

"your ship" is a 200-pound, 11-meter span, Sparrowhawk; I'd had to
retrieve it

only on the first day). Soon after we disassembled the ship for the day
and

returned to the Retrieve Office, two more or less simultaneous phone
calls

arrived from 1-26-ers. "The Schwartzinator" had landed at a strip about
15

miles south of Moriarty. The landing location suggested he was on his way
to

the final turnpoint. The next phone call - from Bob von Hellens -
suggested

perhaps he and "the Schwartzinator" might have raced each other into the

ground; von Hellens was in a field not very far north - on course for the

final turnpoint - from Schwartz. While speculating about the state
(fate?) of

the remaining 3 champions, another phone call...from "the Kid"! He's down
in a

field about 6 miles *north* of Moriarty...suggesting he was on the leg to
or

from the final turn, but farther along than Ron or Bob von H.



My pilot and I volunteer to retrieve "the Kid," competing without a crew.
As

we're leaving the field, we see Bob Hurni's ship in the landing pattern.
Has

he completed the course? Or has he abandoned the effort? All we can
surmise as

we leave the field is "the Kid" almost certainly has the greatest
distance of

the landouts, Bob H may or may not be in the lead, and Harry Baldwin's

whereabouts are completely unknown to us (or anyone else!). There's hope
for

my sentimental favorite!!!



We retrieve Daniel.



Upon our return we learn Bob Hurni abandoned the task. Where does that
put him

relative to "the Kid," who in fact has flown farther than Ron S. and Bob
von

H? Every 13.5 meter competitor is accounted for. Harry Baldwin is still

unaccounted for. The day is getting late. Where is Harry Baldwin?!? He's
had

at least two early landouts in the North American Championships, and was
not a

factor in this year's contest.



Really late in the soaring day comes a phone call. It's Harry Baldwin.
He's

landed out off-airport, maybe 3/8 of a mile from the threshold of runway
18.

He says lots of bodies would be helpful on the retrieve.



He reports he (almost!) completed the course. Harry has won the Race of

Champions!!! Volunteers practically stampede to help with the retrieve.
We

figure we would be in the way, and opt for dinner (most sit-down
restaurants

close early in Moriarty). We can only imagine Harry's state of mind and
tale.



Next Morning - Harry Baldwin stayed at the same motel as my pilot and me.
The

day after the Race of Champions, we three were in the breakfast nook
before

going to the airfield. We congratulate him. A big grin gradually appears
on

his face; it goes practically halfway around. He volunteers that when
Pete had

preliminarily displayed the trophy that would go to the Champion of
Champions,

he decided that instant he REALLY wanted that trophy. He knew he couldn't
win

the overall contest. He knew this would be his last hurrah. He said he'd
never

seen a more attractive trophy. (It was a hand-carved eagle, entirely of
New

Mexican origin...wood, design, artist, paints, etc. There will never be

another like it.) He said he had no idea what any of his competitors were

experiencing on course. He knew only that he was still aloft, and thus
still

had a chance.



At the awards ceremony, he added that he was going to do a straight in to
the

ground, options permitting, but he was NOT going to quit. He intended to
leave

nothing "in the cockpit" so to speak. He was trying to make the field.
Runway

18 has some powerlines on its northern approach, and a barbed-wire fence
not

far beyond. He figured he could safely make it UNDER the powerlines...but

wasn't certain he could make it OVER the fence. He landed. He said it was
the

roughest 1-26 landing he'd ever made. And that's saying something from a
man

who probably has well over a hundred off-field landings in a 1-26, many
of

them on dirt roads.



He said that after all the banging and bumping stopped, and after all the
dust

had cleared away, and after he could see his flight computer, it showed
he'd

come to a stop barely within the finish circle! Under the 1-26 rules he
would

be scored with speed points!! He said he didn't care at that moment if he
had

lost, he knew he'd done his and the day's best. That's what competition -
and

life - is all about. Doing your best.



Harry Baldwin. Champion of champions.

Originally Posted by Papa3[_2_]

Thanks Bob! Simply wonderful story.

Here here! Well done Bob. I hope someone picks up the movie right! And a hearty congratulations to Mr. Baldwin for his performance...and all the other champions for providing a wonderfully dramatic and exciting episode.

Brad.

Excellent reporting! Almost as good as actually being there in person! And kudos and bravo! again to Harry Baldwin! A very inspiring flight.

This is a beautiful story..right up to the last two paragraphs. Read those again, carefully

"At the awards ceremony, he added that he was going to do a straight in to the
ground, options permitting, but he was NOT going to quit. He intended to leave
nothing "in the cockpit" so to speak. He was trying to make the field. Runway
18 has some powerlines on its northern approach, and a barbed-wire fence not
far beyond. He figured he could safely make it UNDER the powerlines...but
wasn't certain he could make it OVER the fence. He landed. He said it was the
roughest 1-26 landing he'd ever made. And that's saying something from a man
who probably has well over a hundred off-field landings in a 1-26, many of
them on dirt roads.

He said that after all the banging and bumping stopped, and after all the dust
had cleared away, and after he could see his flight computer, it showed he'd
come to a stop barely within the finish circle! Under the 1-26 rules he would
be scored with speed points!! He said he didn't care at that moment if he had
lost, he knew he'd done his and the day's best. That's what competition - and
life - is all about. Doing your best.

Harry Baldwin. Champion of champions."


Really now? I spent most of this season enduring tongue lashings about our finish rules. "No sane pilot will push a final glide, just because of some point system," they said. "Experienced pilots will always give up and do a proper landout with at least 500 feet left" they said. "Pilots aren't doing stupid things just because of rules" they said.

Then read this story. You can't ask for more experience!

"he was going to do a straight in to the ground"

I.e., Not only did he get tempted at the last moment, he planned to do it!

"He figured he could safely make it UNDER the powerlines...but wasn't certain he could make it OVER the fence."

"showed he'd come to a stop barely within the finish circle! Under the 1-26 rules he would be scored with speed points!!"

You can't ask for a clearer example of finish rules inducing amazingly stupid behavior.

For let's call it what it is, this is amazingly stupid behavior. A straight in approach, to a high desert site, planned under power lines with a barbed wire fence approaching? Even at 20:1 it's pretty hard to see what's ahead..

What would you all have been saying if this had gone badly, as it had every right to do, and Harry hit one of those wires, or there had been a boulder, unseen from a straight in glide, on his landing. Would the story still have been "there goes a top pilot, doing just the right thing, a victim of unfortunate and unforeseeable circumstance?"

Or would the story have been the usual chorus of denial: "Well, he must have been dehydrated." "You know, pilots that age..." "What a bozo maneuver. Surely great pilots like me would never do such a thing." "Well, whatever was on his mind, the 126 rules that give speed points for a landout a mile from the airport can't have been it." Fortunately he survived to tell us that was exactly what was on his mind.

But most of all, this isn't about Harry. We've all done dumb things. And sometimes been silly enough to boast of them at the pilot's meeting the next day. This is about the rest of us. We glorify this??? This is the story we want to pass on to our young impressionable pilots? "Wow, this is how real champions do it?" "Keep this story in mind when you're making tough in flight decisions?"

No, I'm sorry. In this case, not champion of champions. In this case, one really lucky guy, who did something amazingly dumb, and thanks to the low energy of the 1-26 got away with it.

Dear Danny and other promising new contest pilots: This is NOT how contest flying is done. When the rules of your contest allow you to earn hundreds of points and win the day by doing something incredibly dumb, like a Mc 0 glide straight in, under a powerline, heading toward a barbed wire fence, to roll just into a finish cylinder dodging mesquite and boulders, you do NOT do it. You land out, from a comfortable altitude, over a field you can see, and live to fly again next year. Don't thermal at 200 feet either. We want you to still be flying when you're 84.

John Cochrane BB

Well said John. I am glad Harry survived, and glad it's his last competition. Neither hope, nor dogged fatalism, are good strategies for survival.

It would be interesting to compare the traces of all five pilots.

BTW, I don't know the rules that well, but why do you get points for landing within a mile of an airport, rather than AT the airport?

Matt

BTW, I don't know the rules that well, but why do you get points for landing within a mile of an airport, rather than AT the airport?

Matt

1-26 contests fly by their own set of rules.

John Cochrane

On 9/8/2013 7:11 AM, wrote:

This is a beautiful story..right up to the last two paragraphs. Read those
again, carefully

"At the awards ceremony, he added that he was going to do a straight in to
the ground, options permitting, but he was NOT going to quit. He intended
to leave nothing "in the cockpit" so to speak. He was trying to make the
field. Runway 18 has some powerlines on its northern approach, and a
barbed-wire fence not far beyond. He figured he could safely make it UNDER
the powerlines...but wasn't certain he could make it OVER the fence. He
landed. He said it was the roughest 1-26 landing he'd ever made. And that's
saying something from a man who probably has well over a hundred off-field
landings in a 1-26, many of them on dirt roads.

He said that after all the banging and bumping stopped, and after all the
dust had cleared away, and after he could see his flight computer, it
showed he'd come to a stop barely within the finish circle! Under the 1-26
rules he would be scored with speed points!! He said he didn't care at that
moment if he had lost, he knew he'd done his and the day's best. That's
what competition - and life - is all about. Doing your best.

Harry Baldwin. Champion of champions."


Really now? I spent most of this season enduring tongue lashings about our
finish rules. "No sane pilot will push a final glide, just because of some
point system," they said. "Experienced pilots will always give up and do a
proper landout with at least 500 feet left" they said. "Pilots aren't doing
stupid things just because of rules" they said.

Then read this story. You can't ask for more experience!

"he was going to do a straight in to the ground"

I.e., Not only did he get tempted at the last moment, he planned to do it!

"He figured he could safely make it UNDER the powerlines...but wasn't
certain he could make it OVER the fence."

"showed he'd come to a stop barely within the finish circle! Under the
1-26 rules he would be scored with speed points!!"

You can't ask for a clearer example of finish rules inducing amazingly
stupid behavior.

For let's call it what it is, this is amazingly stupid behavior. A straight
in approach, to a high desert site, planned under power lines with a barbed
wire fence approaching? Even at 20:1 it's pretty hard to see what's ahead.

What would you all have been saying if this had gone badly, as it had every
right to do, and Harry hit one of those wires, or there had been a boulder,
unseen from a straight in glide, on his landing. Would the story still have
been "there goes a top pilot, doing just the right thing, a victim of
unfortunate and unforeseeable circumstance?"

Or would the story have been the usual chorus of denial: "Well, he must
have been dehydrated." "You know, pilots that age..." "What a bozo
maneuver. Surely great pilots like me would never do such a thing." "Well,
whatever was on his mind, the 126 rules that give speed points for a
landout a mile from the airport can't have been it." Fortunately he
survived to tell us that was exactly what was on his mind.

But most of all, this isn't about Harry. We've all done dumb things. And
sometimes been silly enough to boast of them at the pilot's meeting the
next day. This is about the rest of us. We glorify this??? This is the
story we want to pass on to our young impressionable pilots? "Wow, this is
how real champions do it?" "Keep this story in mind when you're making
tough in flight decisions?"

No, I'm sorry. In this case, not champion of champions. In this case, one
really lucky guy, who did something amazingly dumb, and thanks to the low
energy of the 1-26 got away with it.

Dear Danny and other promising new contest pilots: This is NOT how contest
flying is done. When the rules of your contest allow you to earn hundreds
of points and win the day by doing something incredibly dumb, like a Mc 0
glide straight in, under a powerline, heading toward a barbed wire fence,
to roll just into a finish cylinder dodging mesquite and boulders, you do
NOT do it. You land out, from a comfortable altitude, over a field you can
see, and live to fly again next year. Don't thermal at 200 feet either. We
want you to still be flying when you're 84.

John Cochrane BB


I knew "this was coming" when I wrote the piece. Every sentence, tale,
adventure has at least as many perspectives as there are listeners...and in my
case, I bring multiple perspectives to my assessments of anything. I doubt the
"multiple perspectives" thing is peculiar only to me.

I also have no problem reconciling "perspective conflict"...at least my own.
Those things noted...

Without being tedious covering them individually, John Cochrane's points
concerning the risks Harry Baldwin was prepared to take (and did, up to a very
low margin point), are spot on. However, that does NOT mean what Harry did was
outright dumb. Imponderables matter, a whole lot when lives are at stake. Few
parents would let their 16-year-old boy drive the family Ferrari on the race
track the day after their baby is licensed (meaning the kid, not the car :-)),
while many would have far fewer qualms about letting (say) Helio Castroneves
or Sebastian Vettel do so.

Experience, judgment, currency, etc., etc., etc., matter. A lot. If anyone
wishes to snipe about Harry's age, let's not stop there, let's go right to the
question of "self-certification." Who doesn't know people in (say) their 50's
who shouldn't be behind the wheel of a car for mental and/or physical reasons?
There's only a VERY loose correlation between chronological age and
mental/physical competency.

Paul Newman (remember him?) raced (high-powered) cars at the national level
(winning SCCA national championships well into his later 60's as I recall).
Harry Baldwin is a vastly experienced 1-26 pilot: cross-country, national
level competitions, off-field landings, the Moriarty area. In the two weeks
prior to the Race of Champions, his local knowledge of the field and its
approaches had been daily updated and honed. So far as I can tell from
"Soaring" magazine, he's lived and flown his entire adult life from a base in
San Diego, which is surrounded by far harsher desert than surrounds Moriarty.
The man surely should well know the desert landing risks he was prepared to
accept, and the margins he was prepared to - and did - thin.

So John Cochrane and I seem to be in complete agreement that, "[...] most of
all, this isn't about Harry."

Where I begin to quibble with John are some aspects of succeeding statements.
"We've all done dumb things. And sometimes been silly enough to boast of them
at the pilot's meeting the next day..."

Firstly, What Harry chose to do is not definitionally dumb..."dumb" as in the
outcome was predictably/almost certainly/likely doomed to end poorly. That's
how I define dumb. What Harry chose to do WAS higher risk than entering a
pattern from (say) 800' agl. And it (arguably) got higher risk as he
descended, though the "obvious to the rest of us pilots" risks are closely
coupled to the landing options toward which he was descending. Having "camp
flown" gliders from Moriarty myself between the early 1990s and 2009, and
having XC soared "out west" from 1974, I always actively strove to never make
a prairie landing (which option was a large portion of Harry's options as he
descended below 800' agl). That's just me. I've probably retrieved
double-digits' worth of folks from western prairies and grasslands, ship types
ranging from 1-26s to racing glass. Fortunately no ship damage on any of my
retrieves...but *I* was never comfortable with the risks. Some of the pilots
I've retrieved I considered good candidates for breaking their glass ships
(and some of those subsequently did, despite whatever input they received from
reading, fellow pilots, me, etc.). Others I understood their landing risk
tolerance simply differed from mine, though they DID understand the risks
associated with prairie landings. My working guess is Harry Baldwin easily
falls into the second category, and, the 1-26 for many reasons is far more
resistant to OFL damage than many newer ships.

Secondly, to me there's a HUGE difference between boasting and simply
answering a question. I got zero sense Harry was boasting when he synopsized
for me and my pilot in the breakfast nook prior to that morning's group
gathering, how he'd come to be on the prairie short of runway 18's paved
threshold. Likewise, at the later group gathering, he seemed to me to be
simply answering the natural curiosity-based questions put to him. My sense
was that he fully understood the risks he'd been prepared to/did take, but
maybe that's only my individual perspective. Undoubtedly "the Kid's"
perspective would be different for a whole host of reasons. Whose is "right?"
My answer is all perspectives are right so long as risks are well comprehended
and sensibly factored into the individuals' future actions. (And, yes, I
recognize that "the learning venue/scenario" matters a LOT. A pilot's meeting
is a far poorer venue for nuanced learning than is [say] a classroom...but the
unavoidable fact is learning takes place everywhere.)

To continue with some of John Cochrane's (entirely valid) points...

"[...] This is about the rest of us. We glorify this??? This is the story we
want to pass on to our young impressionable pilots? 'Wow, this is how real
champions do it?' 'Keep this story in mind when you're making tough in flight
decisions?' "

Every pilot in the room when Harry Baldwin was asked to share how he'd come to
wind up on the prairie barely short of R18 was "a thoroughly experienced XC
sailplane pilot." Only "the Kid" (19 years old) was not "a legal adult." The
next youngest was "my pilot", a 28-year-old CFI, CFI-G, ATP (and likely more
acronyms of which I'm ignorant), with more OFLs in ~5 years of soaring than I
have in 50 years. So far, I'm the only one of us two to've damaged a sailplane
in an OFL...dirt clods poked 2 small holes in the nose fabric of my 1-26 on my
4th-ever OFL when I ignorantly landed in a plowed-only field. (Never made THAT
mistake again.) My point here is, context matters. And John Cochrane is right
that the RAS context is worlds apart from Moriarty's little enclave.

Were we to take a straw poll of whether RASidents would vote for total
exclusion of interesting, potentially valuable stories containing much food
for thought for every soaring pilot, vs. the alternative of not exposing
future soaring pilots to learning opportunities on RAS via this route, I know
which voting outcome I'd bet my retirement wad on. That said, and...

....in no way trying to be contentious, there is one area in which I suspect
John Cochrane and I are presently going to have to agree to disagree. Quoting
John again, "No, I'm sorry. In this case, not champion of champions. In this
case, one really lucky guy, who did something amazingly dumb, and thanks to
the low energy of the 1-26 got away with it." Taking the quote at face value
(always fraught with potential inaccuracy in a written settng as is RAS), I
agree Harry Baldwin was fortunate that his prairie landing worked out (as
previously noted, I believe EVERY pilot who makes a prairie landing without
plane damage is fortunate). I DISagree that Harry's thought process was a
concatenation of dumb thinking. I agree the 1-26 is perhaps the best ship in
common U.S. usage for any pilot to safely (for ship and pilot) learn the
nuances of OFLs.

Now reread John's closing paragraph. (I'll wait...:-))



Contest rules certainly do influence pilot decisions. That's human nature. And
"I feel John's pain" when it comes to the thankless, painful, task of being on
a rules committee, trying to define rules "100% acceptable to all viewpoints."
It can't be done. That said, I'd bet both of us are in complete agreement that
some rules "tend to promote safer behavior than other rules." Discussing THAT
will be done so long as humans are around to invent sporting
competitions...and is why John's felt much of his own pain in recent years!

My original post was an attempt to share with a larger audience a tale
containing considerable human drama. (Heck, I'm an anal engineer by
inclination and training, and *I* found the day's events compelling!) It was
as accurately written as I'm capable, did not indulge in inaccurate hyperbole
for effect, and did not seek to "glorify stupidity." I appreciate John
Cochrane's willingness to broach topics only (indirectly) hinted at in the
article, i.e. pilot decision making, rules incentives, "fundamental safety,"
etc., because these topics are an integral, fundamental part of my, John's,
Harry Baldwin's, readers', soaring avocation. I hope most readers can
appreciate the story and the lessons within it that are applicable to their
own safe flying, because what's *Really* Dumb to me is failure to learn from
others.

Respectfully,
Bob W.

Harry Baldwin. Champion of champions.


Hey,
Santiago, an aging fisherman struggled with a giant marlin. Harry struggled with reaching his goal. Triumph of will over weakness...and rules.