Ron Faoro (The Spin Doctor)

Thanksgiving Sunday
11/27/05

Well, how to describe Sunday?  The gods smiled on us once again, in more ways than one.  After many disappointing days battling the weather and the north wind, we were especially eager to fly.  The wind had gusted to 40 mph overnight at Montecito Peak and was still blowing up to 30 out of the north when I got up at 6 AM.  I didn't think there was much chance of flying and was still lounging around in my robe at home when Bob H. told me everyone was at Parma waiting for me.

Bo Criss took a crew of seven pilots up to Skyport around 11 AM.  No limo ride for the Topa pilots, but cozy just the same.  It was blowing down a bit when we got there, but after a while a decent cycle came up the front side.  I launched ten minutes later, shortly before noon.  The house thermal took me up over 4,000 feet; I could see the backcountry, the thermals were smooth and I settled in for a long tour.  The R&R wasn't working any better than Skyport.  Bob H. was as high as me, so I shot back over launch where I ascended to almost five grand.  Could it be this easy?

Bob went eastbound and I followed.  I was so high I cruised right over the Thermal Factory and Shadow.  Came in on Montecito Peak at 3,100, hooked a thermal and circled over the peak.  That was the last decent thermal for about an hour!  What happened?  Bob and I scratched around below 3K while Andy and others had a hard time launching because it was blowing over the back at Skyport.  Bob left eastbound with 3,100 feet and I watched as Dean and Bo caught up and passed me on their way east.  I battled the brush as low as 2,100 feet, listening to the radio as Tom and Andy landed at East Beach.  Bob struggled low across to Romero Canyon with Bo and Dean in pursuit.  I stared at the ground, skimming 10-50 feet over the chaparral from 12:15 until almost 1:15.  At least a thousand S-turns - frustrated to see such a good start turn bad.

Bo and Bob had about the same luck.  Bob crossed Romero low and finally flushed.  I don't want to say he scratched too long, but he's the only pilot I know besides Sundowner to pass UNDER the high power lines to land!  Miracle number one.  Bo left the mountains and landed in Shotgun Field - didn't get shot.  Miracle number two.  I finally got up to 3,100, left the cursed east arm of Montecito Peak and battled to stay on top while crossing San Ysidro Canyon.  My gaze kept returning to Dean, higher than me and making his way across Romero.  "I'm not giving up until he does," I told myself.  For a half hour, Dean worked Castle Ridge while I made my way to Romero.  Dean's wing was a constant spot against the sky a few miles distant.  The lift was weak and erratic; I fell off to near 2,000 feet again.  Then I heard Bo on the radio, "Dean, you took a whack and now I can't see you.  Please give us a report."  I looked up to the skyline where he had been the last half hour - he was nowhere to be seen.  Miracle number three.

Dean had crossed east from Castle Ridge and was low on a the next point when he got rotored from the north wind, lost his wing and augered in.  He damaged his harness and wing, bruised his arm and scraped up his leg where he landed hard among rocks.  But at least he wasn't badly damaged and was about 1/4 mile from Divide Peak Road on the back ridge.  That was enough for me.  When I got back up I left the mountains and headed for the golf course.

Tom and Andy came from East Beach and picked me up.  We grabbed Bo and Bob from Shotgun and planned our strategy to retrieve Dean.  After a little discussion, we decided to drive up to Romero Saddle and walk in with flashlights, food and water.  Of course, we stopped at my house for beer and wine to alleviate suffering and headed back up the mountain.  Andy drove his truck, Bo got gear from his rig at Skyport and Bob and I drank wine.  We called Tom Pipkin on the way up the hill.  We learned that Ojai John had taken the day, flying from Chief to Nordhoff then back around the corner to Fillmore!

Below the climbing rock, a pick-up truck with two dirt bikes in the back stopped to let us pass.  We had been thinking about getting motorcycles for the assist and Bo suggested we ask these people.  I leaned out the window and said, "Where you headed?" "Divide Peak," they answered.  Miracle number four.  We followed them to Romero Saddle.  While they geared up, we supplied them with radio, GPS and Dean's cell number.  Isaac and Danielle, the two bikers, were both EMT's.  How lucky can you get?

They tooled off up the dirt road and it wasn't ten minutes before Dean came back down, wing on his back and a big smile on his face, riding Danielle's bike!  We got back to Parma before sunset.

Many things to be thankful for this Thanksgiving Sunday.

Two hours, 5.02 miles.

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