Collecting his luggage and his secretary the Chief Editor headed off for the South Pacific Island Experience. With a look of "This ought to be fun" on this face.
That was before the 3 days of hell we went through to get there, of course. A trip during which we lost one glider, had one piece of luggage misplaced and another stolen and took a wrong connecting flight to somewhere god-forsaken place inhabited by three crazy biologists and a quarter of a million puffins. Eventually, of course, we arrived. 36 hours later than planned and somewhat bleary eyed we rolled into MataTodo International landing strip, which seemed to be the only place in the entire island that had worked out what to do with tarmac. Flopping down on our beds we slept for 24 hours straight to re-charge our batteries and get ready to meet the local pilots.
Tepano Makemake introduced himself as the chairman and founding member of the RNHPGA and fourth cousin, third removed from the ancient King of Easter Island MakaMakaBigFun InumAgua. He wasted no time with the frills and we soon found ourselves hiking up to takoff with a Pina Colada in each hand and a garland of flowers round our necks. Everything looked good so far. Even Miss Sudds, our secretary, was begining to relax and let her hair down. Which was a shame, as it rather covered things.
Arriving at the summit, a healthy 500m ASL, we prepared ourselves for takeoff and once again, thanks to the airline baggage handlers, it was me and Miss Sudds in the tandem again. Shame.
"Where's the rest of the club?", we enquired. "Conditions look great, surely they would all be out today?"
"The rest? Excluding you two temporary members?", replied Tepano.
"Uh-huh", we shot back.
"You're looking at him", he answered while tying some form of rope around his waist in what looked like a poor immitation of the worlds first rock-climbing harness.
"Ah. Ok. Right then", said Miss Sudds looking at the Chief Editor in the way one chicken might look at another when feeling a wall behind and backing away from the fox.
"Just in time for the eclipse too", said Tepe.
"But what about the sea breeze and the thermic activity", we said, "Surely it'll all shut down?"
"Nah, mate", he shot back, "The breeze here will keep you up, no problem."
Then he took off. And so did we.
We had some great fun. Soaring and thermalling out, flying way out to sea, gliding back and then thermalling our way back up again. Just what we came for. In fact we were so busy taking photos and enjoying ourselves that we totally forgot about the impending solar eclipse and we were cruising at well over 2500m ASL when we realised Tepe had landed and seemed to be chilling out on takeoff. This seemed strange given that conditions were stable and unchanging, no clouds in the distance or other clues to an impending change of fortunes. Within two minutes, however, we remembered.
Because in two minutes we were flying in the dark. Yes, the dark. The black stuff. Not a twinkle. The vario was informing us that the lift hadn't shut down, just as Tepe had said, so at least we were maintaining our altitude. Unfortunately, the GPS was warning us that it must have gone katabatic, synthetic, adiabatic or even diabetic or something down there and although we were flying towards the island we were in actual fact travelling backwards at 50kph and quite rapidly being blown out to sea. In fact the moving-map page was showing us well offshore already. So wingovers or a spiral it is then. Let's face it, it's better to pitch up in the water a few hundred metres out to sea rather than find yourslef 10k offshore. Damn! We were flying the tandem and I'd temporarily fogotten about Miss Sudds reasons for being there, which ruled out wingovers, unless of course I wanted another couple of black eyes from her not-so-fixed-in-place upper-body appendages. Nice, but not right now I thought. As I thought more about it, spirals were not on either, hitting the water at 18 m/s wouldn't do either of us any good, regardless of how large Miss Sudds airbags might be. The more I thought about it the more I was convinced that altitude was our friend as long as we were unable to see the land or water. Holding back the panic, I made a decision! These volcanic islands are in chains I thought, so I guess we'll just have to hope for another one. We turned and went with it. Of course, this turned out to be a big mistake. As they generally are.
They found us 3 weeks later on Sala & Gómez Island, an uninhabited rock with nothing more than grass, ferns and plenty of puffins, some 400km ENE from where we'd taken off. Miss Sudds was looking rather the worse for wear, more so than yours truly it has to be said, mainly due to the fact that certain parts of her had acquired more sun than is generally good for you. At least we'd survived though, all be it on a diet of small fish, crabs, eels and other assorted seafood. In point of fact, we'd eaten just about anything daft enough to swim into a 38D cup.
If anyone knows of a good secretary currently looking for work, we may have an opening.
Because in two minutes we were flying in the dark. Yes, the dark. The black stuff. Not a twinkle. The vario was informing us that the lift hadn't shut down, just as Tepe had said, so at least we were maintaining our altitude. Unfortunately, the GPS was warning us that it must have gone katabatic, synthetic, adiabatic or even diabetic or something down there and although we were flying towards the island we were in actual fact travelling backwards at 50kph and quite rapidly being blown out to sea. In fact the moving-map page was showing us well offshore already. So wingovers or a spiral it is then. Let's face it, it's better to pitch up in the water a few hundred metres out to sea rather than find yourslef 10k offshore. Damn! We were flying the tandem and I'd temporarily fogotten about Miss Sudds reasons for being there, which ruled out wingovers, unless of course I wanted another couple of black eyes from her not-so-fixed-in-place upper-body appendages. Nice, but not right now I thought. As I thought more about it, spirals were not on either, hitting the water at 18 m/s wouldn't do either of us any good, regardless of how large Miss Sudds airbags might be. The more I thought about it the more I was convinced that altitude was our friend as long as we were unable to see the land or water. Holding back the panic, I made a decision! These volcanic islands are in chains I thought, so I guess we'll just have to hope for another one. We turned and went with it. Of course, this turned out to be a big mistake. As they generally are.
They found us 3 weeks later on Sala & Gómez Island, an uninhabited rock with nothing more than grass, ferns and plenty of puffins, some 400km ENE from where we'd taken off. Miss Sudds was looking rather the worse for wear, more so than yours truly it has to be said, mainly due to the fact that certain parts of her had acquired more sun than is generally good for you. At least we'd survived though, all be it on a diet of small fish, crabs, eels and other assorted seafood. In point of fact, we'd eaten just about anything daft enough to swim into a 38D cup.
If anyone knows of a good secretary currently looking for work, we may have an opening.
Pie in the Sky
Funnier than the 1972 "Robert Livingston Seagull patio door" accident
Funnier than the 1972 "Robert Livingston Seagull patio door" accident