H G FA
H G FA
Twelve Minutes over Heaven Adam West and Jeff O’Brien
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better get some of this down before it all fades. As Jeff said this morning, "Dreams of Yosemite keep me from slipping back into reality." I must say, the whole trip had a dreamlike quality – intense, fleeting and other-worldly. Only 57 hours passed from when I boarded the bus to leave for Yosemite to when I got back home to Berkeley. Fifty-seven hours to make memories that will be slow to fade and will bring a smile to my face when I think about them for years to come. It strikes me that life’s really valuable experiences are often contained in these small packets of time. Fleeting, intense experiences whose impact on your life far outstrip their relative length. I am glad I learnt the lesson relatively early in my life to grab these opportunities with both hands, whatever the risk. I am lucky to have an understanding
wife and good friends who collectively seize the moment. This all began with my attempts to get the ‘three amigos’ back together for a weekend. Jeff O’Brien, Alex McCulloch, and I have had a history of ‘hang gliding epics’ – trips to obscure places with unconventional flying experiences. I was in the the States for work and hadn’t seen my Utah flying mates for two years. After going back and forth for a month or two via email, a week ago Jeff wrote to say: “Yosemite.” It was an improbable call. Flying Yosemite is a rare privilege and a logistical challenge. This is the only National park in the US in which flying is permitted. As you might expect, it is highly regulated. In order to fly there you have to co-ordinate the tricky balance of pilot’s schedules and ratings, the presence of an approved site monitor, a driver,
vehicles and equipment, Yosemite Ranger bureaucracy, accommodation in one of the busiest National parks in the world, and, of course, the weather. It was even more challenging considering who was involved. I was in Berkeley, jetlagged after having arrived from South Africa two days prior, with no gear, my wife and our five-month old baby. Alex was in Boulder, but scheduled to be on a flying trip (as an airline pilot) to North Dakota and beyond. It was highly questionable if he would be able to get off work in time to catch a flight to join us. Neither Alex nor myself held a current H4 rating from USHPA which is required to fly Yosemite. This is where Jeff stepped in to co-ordinate. He’d acquire demo gliders from Wills Wing, and a spare harness for me along with peripheral gear. Jeff Shapiro overnighted a temporary rating
form to convert my SAHPA HG rating to a US one, while Alex managed to get his H4 rating in Colorado. Southern California pilots arranged for Greg Lawless to travel 1500 miles to act as our site monitor for the weekend. (Big Thanks to Greg for his time, resources and food!) It was left to myself and Alex to see if we could get ourselves to Yosemite by Friday night. I found out I could get from Berkeley to Yosemite via a nine-hour bus and train journey. Alex was going to try to fly into Fresno, hopefully in time to meet Jeff on the way through. My bus pulled into the valley at 8:30pm on Friday night. I was met by Jeff, his truck loaded with gliders. We laughed at the epic nature of our reunion and headed to the campsite where I met the others and caught up with Jeff over a bottle of cheap red wine – just like old times. Alex ended up being scheduled for a trip on Friday and would eventually show up Saturday after an absolute epic involving unmentionable commercial flight ops en-route so that he could get into the gate early enough to catch the flight to Fresno. He made it by seconds, leaving his laptop on board the plane. Nice one Captain! From there he would rent a car and meet us in the valley on Saturday afternoon. Flying in Yosemite is tightly regulated. It is only permitted from Glacier Point and only for an hour a day. In order to fly there you have to hold an advanced rating from the USHPA and have an approved site monitor with you from the Yosemite Hang Gliding Club [http:// www.yhga.org]. The Monitor radios park rangers at 8am for clearance to fly. Launches are allowed between 8am and 9am and all pilots must be on the ground by 10am. Normally the weather and clearance is a non-issue, but forest fires were burning in the park and helicopters were working to contain the blazes. Smoke was thick in the valley. We kept our fingers crossed and were happy to be in pristine surroundings. We got up at 5am and were on the road in the dark before six. On the way up we passed a black bear with two cubs in the twilight. The air was crisp and cold, warming by the minute from the sun as we carried our gliders to the edge of the rim and rigged in the early dawn light. After rigging, we signed the waiver, had our licenses checked, and received a pre-launch briefing. The steep granite slab launch faces east toward the rising
sun with Half Dome directly ahead. A breathtaking vista. For most, it’s a life highlight just to take in the view, we get to launch right at it! There were tense moments as the site monitor wrangled with the park ranger over the radio requesting permission. Only with an understanding ranger and a eloquent monitor was the fire operations captain convinced to let us fly. We efficiently donned our harnesses and lined up to traverse the steep granite face one at a time to launch. When it was my turn, I sidestepped my glider out along the face. You have to do this unhooked, which is a bit nervy. When in position, I hooked in and Greg gave me a hang check, cleared and I was off. The early morning air was buttery and the valley spectacular in all directions – a 360-degree feast for the eyes. I saw Jeff ahead and below, and after a tour of the valley I met up with him next to a sheer granite wall. We traversed the immense face together for awhile, dwarfed by the immensity, getting a couple of photos as we flew. After breaking from our formation, I set up an approach first. Jeff was seconds behind and beside me and we alighted in the dewy thigh-high grass of the meadow. We’d managed to pull logistics together and had our flight. We were missing our third amigo though, and hoped the fires and fire personnel would stay calm enough for one more morning flight. The rest of the day was spent relaxing in the shade swapping stories. We stopped by the base of El Capitan and had a look through a photographer’s telescope. He was focussed in on a climbing party 2000ft off the valley floor, the leader blazing up the face barefoot! Alex had called to say he’d made his connection, and before sunset the three of us caught up for a ceremonial swim in the crystal cold Merced River. The next morning, twilight revealed the valley full of smoke on our way up to launch. We were hoping for Alex’s sake that we wouldn’t be shut down by smoke or firefighting aircraft. We rigged in the shadow of Half Dome accentuated with smoky yellow-orange dawn light. The scene was ineffable. When the site monitor called for clearance, the fire operations captain granted our request. The party was on and Alex would get his flight! We lined up without delay. Jeff was to launch first, with me immediately after him. The plan was to hook up again for some photo opportunities. Alex was
going to go third and just enjoy his first flight at Yosemite. Jeff and I took a tour of the granite spires on the south side of the valley peppered with giant fir trees. We glided over sharp fins, thousands of feet high just off the treetops. It’s inspiring to see such forbidding terrain from a bird’s eye view. Arduous or impossible to see this terrain with human eyes any other way. Approximately 12 minutes later we found ourselves feet on the ground, legs wet with dew, in the LZ. We watched the rest of our mates make successful flights punctuated with great landings. Our objective had been realised, but our journey not yet over. We hurriedly broke down our gliders, then our camp. Flash drives flew from hand to hand transferring media from the weekend, hugs and smiles were exchanged, and Jeff gave me a ride out of the valley to the train station. As I gathered my bags, I spotted Jeff’s new flying helmet unused in the back seat. After a quick exchange Jeff said, “Yea, I’ll never transition to that new helmet unless I just get rid of this sweaty old thing.” I replied, “Well why don’t you give it to me?” Jeff picked up the sweat-caked scratched lid and said with a smile, “If you want this slimy thing, you can have it.” I saw Jeff peering at me from his rear view mirror with a wide smile as he drove away. I walked away toting my bags in the 105ºF heat with my new (stinky) full-face helmet on.
Photos: Jeff O’Brien
4 Soaring Australia
April 2010
April 2010
Soaring Australia
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