Most amusing un-landout

Not quite along the same lines, but still a good story.

I flew out about 45 miles to the West of Sunflower
(Near Hutchinson, KS) one not so great looking day.
I got to an airport I had landed at the weekend before
when trying to fly home from another glider field out
in Western Kansas. 'Neat,' I thought. 'I will complete
last weekend's flight.'

So, I started back and things got bad. Real bad.
And fast. Minor OD'ing, and lots of shadow out in
front of me. The cu were disappearing fast. The guys
at home were staying up, but it looked really bleak
for me. I was down to about 800 feet when the smoke
from a small brush fire in some farmer's back yard
got up to me. Climb and drift. Got to 1500 feet,
and drifted about 5 miles away. Went back, and repeated
the process. I think I spent nearly 2 hours drifting
and climbing to less than 2000 feet, then gliding back
to the same little fire.

I told the guys back home that if I could get high
enough to glide over to Sylvia, I would probably land
there. They were hanging in there and trying to encourage
me, but it was getting darker and later. And it sounded
from their reports, that they were on a downhill slide.

I finally got high enough to drift and float back downwind
to Sylvia (slightly away from home from where I was,
but an airport rather than a field). So, I called
and said I was heading there. I would call them in
a bit and let them know my fate. They were still up
and indicated the whisps were working, but just barely.

I got to Sylvia at 600 feet, gear down and set up to
land, when I hit a bump over the gas station. Lift!
And all the way around! Gear back up, and I called
to say 'I've got lift!' They responded. After a long,
slow climb, I was at 3000 AGL, and ready to start working
back east into the shadow. I wasn't high enough to
get home, but there were a few whisps out ahead of
me. I called them to pass along the good news.

A bit of lift at the first whisp, and a little closer
to being able to get home. I call and tell them I
am on my way, and just need one more little climb.
No reply. They must all be on the ground by now.

The next whisp, and a bit more lift. I am now about
20 miles out, and 3000 AGL, so I figure that even with
a little headwind, the Zuni and I can get home. I
call and let them know I will be back in about 15 minutes.
Still no reply.

10 minutes out, I give a call saying I will be there
in just a bit. I make another call 5 miles out, and
buzz the field, overjoyed to be home, as it is total
overcast, and now threatening rain where I had just
been.

The field is empty. Nobody is there. Not even my
van and trailer. Hmm. This can't be good, I thought.
Pattern, land, and push the Zuni over to where my
trailer was last time I saw it.

Nothing on the field. No note, no signs of life, just
the car of a friend. Ah, he must have decided to go
get me. But, I had told them I was coming home. Why
didn't they turn on the base station radio in my van
and call to see if I was still up? Oh, well.

I walk about a mile to the field owners house. He
isn't home. I go to a house I use to know, and ask
if I can borrow their phone. I call my friend's wife
(the one who's car is at the field), and she hasn't
heard anything from him. I figured he would have at
least called her to say he was going to be late, as
he had to go get someone. Call the owner of the field
I told them I might be landing at. No answer. I call
another friend in town. No answer.

In desperation, I call 911. 'Sorry, this isn't an
emergency, but if you guys see a silver and black Chevy
Van pulling a 30 foot long white trialer, can you tell
him to go back to the gliderport?'

My friend had gone to where I said I might be landing
an hour and a half previous. He cannot fild the field
because it is pouring down rain. Visibility is less
than 50 feet. He ends up in someone's driveway, gets
directions, and has a minor issue when backing out.
The guy's mailbox lost, and my trailer got a minor
scratch on the back end. He finally gets back just
before the sun would have gone down (but it was already
getting dark because of the storms). He told me his
tale, and we put the plane away. About half an hour
later, the rain and wind hit the field.

A week later, the owner of the field asked me 'What
the heck was going on last Saturday?' It seems he
was listening on a police scanner and heard the call
go out to try and retreive my retreive! Flight time
that day was 3:45. 45 minutes out, and three hours
to get back home! Retrieve time and miles not included.

Steve Leonard
Wichita, KS
Zuni 2 ZS

On May 1, 10:37 pm, Steve Leonard
wrote:
Not quite along the same lines, but still a good story.

I flew out about 45 miles to the West of Sunflower
(Near Hutchinson, KS) one not so great looking day.
I got to an airport I had landed at the weekend before
when trying to fly home from another glider field out
in Western Kansas. 'Neat,' I thought. 'I will complete
last weekend's flight.'

So, I started back and things got bad. Real bad.
And fast. Minor OD'ing, and lots of shadow out in
front of me. The cu were disappearing fast. The guys
at home were staying up, but it looked really bleak
for me. I was down to about 800 feet when the smoke
from a small brush fire in some farmer's back yard
got up to me. Climb and drift. Got to 1500 feet,
and drifted about 5 miles away. Went back, and repeated
the process. I think I spent nearly 2 hours drifting
and climbing to less than 2000 feet, then gliding back
to the same little fire.

I told the guys back home that if I could get high
enough to glide over to Sylvia, I would probably land
there. They were hanging in there and trying to encourage
me, but it was getting darker and later. And it sounded
from their reports, that they were on a downhill slide.

I finally got high enough to drift and float back downwind
to Sylvia (slightly away from home from where I was,
but an airport rather than a field). So, I called
and said I was heading there. I would call them in
a bit and let them know my fate. They were still up
and indicated the whisps were working, but just barely.

I got to Sylvia at 600 feet, gear down and set up to
land, when I hit a bump over the gas station. Lift!
And all the way around! Gear back up, and I called
to say 'I've got lift!' They responded. After a long,
slow climb, I was at 3000 AGL, and ready to start working
back east into the shadow. I wasn't high enough to
get home, but there were a few whisps out ahead of
me. I called them to pass along the good news.

A bit of lift at the first whisp, and a little closer
to being able to get home. I call and tell them I
am on my way, and just need one more little climb.
No reply. They must all be on the ground by now.

The next whisp, and a bit more lift. I am now about
20 miles out, and 3000 AGL, so I figure that even with
a little headwind, the Zuni and I can get home. I
call and let them know I will be back in about 15 minutes.
Still no reply.

10 minutes out, I give a call saying I will be there
in just a bit. I make another call 5 miles out, and
buzz the field, overjoyed to be home, as it is total
overcast, and now threatening rain where I had just
been.

The field is empty. Nobody is there. Not even my
van and trailer. Hmm. This can't be good, I thought.
Pattern, land, and push the Zuni over to where my
trailer was last time I saw it.

Nothing on the field. No note, no signs of life, just
the car of a friend. Ah, he must have decided to go
get me. But, I had told them I was coming home. Why
didn't they turn on the base station radio in my van
and call to see if I was still up? Oh, well.

I walk about a mile to the field owners house. He
isn't home. I go to a house I use to know, and ask
if I can borrow their phone. I call my friend's wife
(the one who's car is at the field), and she hasn't
heard anything from him. I figured he would have at
least called her to say he was going to be late, as
he had to go get someone. Call the owner of the field
I told them I might be landing at. No answer. I call
another friend in town. No answer.

In desperation, I call 911. 'Sorry, this isn't an
emergency, but if you guys see a silver and black Chevy
Van pulling a 30 foot long white trialer, can you tell
him to go back to the gliderport?'

My friend had gone to where I said I might be landing
an hour and a half previous. He cannot fild the field
because it is pouring down rain. Visibility is less
than 50 feet. He ends up in someone's driveway, gets
directions, and has a minor issue when backing out.
The guy's mailbox lost, and my trailer got a minor
scratch on the back end. He finally gets back just
before the sun would have gone down (but it was already
getting dark because of the storms). He told me his
tale, and we put the plane away. About half an hour
later, the rain and wind hit the field.

A week later, the owner of the field asked me 'What
the heck was going on last Saturday?' It seems he
was listening on a police scanner and heard the call
go out to try and retreive my retreive! Flight time
that day was 3:45. 45 minutes out, and three hours
to get back home! Retrieve time and miles not included.

Steve Leonard
Wichita, KS
Zuni 2 ZS

thats awesome Steve. Circling off fires is something I got familiar
with on my 5 hr flight. Got down to about 1200 AGL at about hour 2.5
and had to circle off a grass fire to get back up. Thank god it was
there or I would not have been a happy camper.

Great story Steve!

I was born and raised in Salina and love to hear soaring tales from
Kansas.

I got my power license through "Lawrence Aggravation" in 1977 but only
got into soaring about a year ago.

I will definately have to check out the local soaring next time I
visit.

Thanks for sharing.

FC Norton (FCZ)
HpH304CZ-#17
N304BL

I'm going to have to get a transcription of Bill Rogers' story of the
ride he gave at TuSC years ago. The way he tells it, it was very late
in the day, and it got so dark coming back he couldn't see the ground
much less the airport, and when glider eventually made contact with
ground, it was right down the runway!

Maybe an also ran for this thread....

There I was on my way from the Soaring Club of Houston to Fault Line Flyers
(just N of Austin) only about 20 nm from FLF and at about 1000' agl in the
PW5. Couldn't make Sybert, a little strip 15nm from FLF, and was looking
over a nice, dark, plowed field as my landing spot. Then I saw a buzzard
circling nearby. My ugly savior. As I rolled into formation behind him, he
glanced back, flapped his wings and was gone. No point circling in the sink
he had left. Set up to land in the field. On downwind doing a final check
of the field, a four foot length of corn stalk rose directly in front of me.
Hit the boomer and took it all the way to the top.

Lessons learned:
Dark plowed fields are my friends.
Buzzards lie.
Cornstalks don't.
Multi-core thermals are the norm.

Buzzards lie.
Cornstalks don't.

I like that!

When I have been asked if I have ever had a bad landing I always tell
them about a special one. It happened a number of years ago on the
last contest day of the Region 8 regional at Ephrata, WA. Shortly
after the field went through the gate a very wet system moved in and
put everybody in the survival mode. Everybody landed out. I had
hoped to find some lift on the leading edge of the storm so had gone
closer to it than most, but not this day. I picked my field which
looked like the normal Columbia Basin field although a bit darker. I
attributed this to the lack of any sun light on the ground and the
rain. I set up a good pattern, put the gear down on down wind and
then remembered that I had a load of water on!! Now I realized why I
had not been able to work the half knot of lift I left. Opened the
dump and continued the pattern. It was really raining hard and it
looked like the ground was pretty wet. As I turned final I noted the
field had a definite dark color and a sheen to it. Touched down,
expecting the normal sinking into the fine dirt that is found in the
area. Instead, I had a wave of green, slimy water going up over the
wings, canopy, every place. I did not roll far. Now it is really
raining so I decide to sit in the ship until it stopped. The rain
washed most of the green slime off of the canopy and I could see my
green wings. I could also smell the distinct smell of wet manure - I
lived on a horse ranch and have been around farms. I also noted that
I was sitting pretty low in the dirt. After about 45 minutes it
stopped raining so I got out. About that time a pickup stopped at the
edge of the field, I took a step towards it and lost my shoe in the
muck and sank down over my ankle. I now looked at the ship and it was
sitting on the belly, gear doors were not visible. I finally dug my
lost shoe out, took the other one off - socks were lost - and slugged
to the pickup. The occupants, two men, were having a good laugh
watching. Turns out they had just spread manure, both hard and
liquid from a dairy on the field. With the rain and the remaining
water from my wing tanks I was sitting in a big slurry of sh-t. My
retrieve crew showed up, it included two men in their 70's Frank
Kruesi and Brian Case's father in law - who immediately lost his shoes
and socks in the muck. We had to take the ship apart in the field,
there was no way it would roll to the road. This required a number
of trips through the goo. No damage except to the lost socks and
mucky pants and shoes. By the time we arrived at the field the goo
had dripped out of my plane and the inside of my trailer was a mess.
Clean up was a riot. Yup, I have had a sh-tty landing.

Tom Dixon
Idaho