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Saturday did not look promising at Balaklava. High cloud covered the sky, the exact wind direction was to remain a matter of ongoing conjecture until the sea breeze arrived later and sorted it out. We had to rig both the 21's after their visit to the Copper Coast the previous weekend. It was revealed that ZBG had a flat front tyre. The tube was beyond human repair so a new one was fitted. It was then discovered that the newly inflated tyre would not fit back in the wheel well, so it had to be deflated, installed and then re-inflated. Just as well we have an air compressor in almost every hangar. This would have been a good time to call it all off and open the bar. When we eventually got to flying, lift was hard to find and circuits became the norm - some being extended slightly in very broken and weak lift. After a couple of mutuals, I was offered a solo adventure in ZBG. I accepted the last minute request from Bert Heath to come along for the ride, after all, we would surely be back after about 8 minutes at best. Expecting the obvious, we agreed that I would do the launch and he would do the rest. We were in for a pleasant surprise; Bert found a modest thermal over the edge of Whitwarta and patiently worked 1.2 knots on the trusty Borgelt averager to around 3,000 feet. I managed to extract a further 600 feet from the remnants, and we spent the rest of the time just flying around the countryside at 42 kts watching the lesser mortals doing circuits below. The flight lasted some 54 minutes. Delightful! Other club members shared in our joy and happiness upon our triumphant return with generous and animated reproductions of Churchill's famous victory salute . We reciprocated in like spirit. Leigh completed his work on the Grunau ( the main one) and did a couple of test flights, and we were all feeling quite happy with the way it had all turned out. The day was to finish badly however.... In laying the cable for the last flight, we managed the mother of all tangles on the winch drum. The flight was abandoned and the best part of an hour was spent sorting out the mess before darkness promised to add a new dimension to the tragedy. Lessons were learned from this. The consensus was that it was probably the worst tangle most of us could remember in the past twenty or thirty years. (I should perhaps mention that there was a brief discussion about simply putting the winch back in the shed and leaving it for the Sunday crew to sort it out, but chivalry and honour prevailed ... ) Alas, things were to get even worse.... After the first round of drinks, it was discovered to the extreme horror of those involved that the supply of Bundy had run out, and there was no more to be found!!! Some were struck dumb by the implications of this discovery. Too shocked to be able to either to speak or act they stared with the despair and disbelief at the now empty bottle. Others gave vent to their anguish with loud blood curdling howls of dismay which will surely haunt those who were there for days, perhaps years to come. Right terrible it were. These were grown men too. As I took my leave (there are advantages in being a beer drinker) the Bundy boys were busily calculating just how the remaining measure of the precious fluid might be equitably divided amongst those devotees who remained. They may still be discussing in fine detail just how this might be done..... An interesting day from every point of view. |
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