Ron Faoro (The Spin Doctor)

Skyport to Carpinteria
Friday, 10/14/05
 

Well, Friday was interesting.  Everything revolved around bankruptcy.  Now, I'm not talking about the usually morally bankrupt Topa pilot.  I'm talking about all the deadbeats beating down Bob Hurlbett's door to escape their bad financial decisions before the new laws go into effect next week.  Dean Stratton had e-mailed me last night about the monster lapse rate expected for Ojai today.  In the morning, it looked even better on the weather page.  Not wanting to leave Bob behind on a flight from Ojai to Santa Barbara, I had him re-arrange his schedule and plan to make the 10:30 meet time at Nordhoff.

I picked up Bob's harness from Marty at the training hill and hurried over to Bob's office to take him to the land of the 33 degree lapse rate.  After rushed phone calls to the courts in Santa Barbara and LA, and last second dictums to Bob's assistant, Ryan, we jumped in the car for the trip to Ojai.  We called Dean to reassure him that despite being good Samaritans, we would be only 15 to 20 minutes late.  The kind Topa pilots agreed to wait for us.

CalTrans had other ideas.  We waited for the flagman to signal us through the intersection of the 192 and highway 150.  The road was supposed to open up today; maybe they got around to it after dark.  Our desire to trim the time from there to Ojai was tempered by the highway patrol vehicle waiting directly behind us.  We pushed on to Lake Casitas after the ten minute wait at the intersection.  There Bob got three phone messages, only two of which demanded immediate attention back in Santa Barbara.  We reluctantly called the other Topa pilots who had already waited twenty minutes and told them to go on without us.  On the way back, Bob called legal counsel to defend us against the malicious and unmerited charges likely to result from exiting his legal office's driveway.

By two PM, we were standing in the 80 degree heat at Skyport, feeling strong cycles rip up the slopes.  I launched and got up quickly, then headed downrange to look for the Ojai boys.  4K at the Thermal Factory, got a boost at Shadow and came in way low on Montecito Peak.  There Bob radioed me to tell me he had received three more phone calls, only two of which demanded his immediate return to the office.  So I continued eastbound alone, enjoying the decent thermals and warm air.  Took the low road, usually jumped ahead whenever I got above three thousand feet.  A small two mile per hour tailwind aided the canyon crossings.  Nice lift on the east spine of Romero; I always got what I needed just when I needed it.  At the east end of Castle Ridge, I caught a strong thermal up to 4,700 feet and the inevitable thought entered my head: Ojai is within reach!  The day had gotten a little fortified, it was 3 PM and I was cruising.

Then the scuds caught up with me at the power lines.  The light faded, the lift weakened and I couldn't edge above 4K.  Thinking of the health benefits of cold beer, I turned my attention to happy hour.  Bob radioed that the Ojai crew was blown out at Chief and headed to Skyport.  My attention was diverted to the flat glide of considerable distance left to my icy destination.  Twelve to fourteen miles per hour with the large ridge separating me from Carpinteria High School.  I was over the spot where Tom Pipkin landed a few months back and had his three hour-plus walk out.  Landing here would be easy, but didn't seem the most expedient way to savor happy hour.  With power lines to the east, I headed upwind to skirt the ridge.  I was going straight west, even with the top of the ridge.  Thought about the large trees in the canyon and my trusty saw.  Finally bumped over the top of the ridgeline and looked to the high school.  Football practice.  So I breezed over the light poles and landed at the soccer field to the east.

Spent an hour rigging a new speed bar, purchased some avocados at a roadside stand from some enterprising young boys ("Fifty cents a piece or four for two dollars!" they happily exclaimed.), then walked down to Cabo's for my well-deserved margaritas.  Bob picked me up, none the worse for the wear after his eleven hour day of bankrupt individuals.  The sun was setting and I reflected upon a very decent day of warm weather flying in the pre-frontal conditions.

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