Flight

Despite t' mile square field at VOA, ya bilge rat, I was leery o' puttin' too much motor under t' Sky Hook for t' first flight in March o' 2004. Avast! Avast!  It be a fairly breezy day, so I loaded it with an A8-5, which turned out t' be more than enough motor for conditions.  T' flight was fairly straight considerin' conditions, and quite high considerin' it was only an A8.  It was nosin' over when t' ejection charge fired, me bucko, and the mild bit o' windcockin' it did be obviously nay goin' t' be enough t' cut down on me recovery hike.  It recovered over toward t' ski-hill at t' west side o' t' field.  I got a bead on t' spot and began marching, arrr, me bucko, surprisin' myself by walkin' almost right t' t' Sky Hook.  A reefed chute might have been a good idea, but the chute was one o' t' first Semroc chutes I had and I couldn't brin' myself t' cut it up.  All things considered, ya bilge rat, this could have easily been a streamer flight.

T' second flight was on a B6-4 and was quite an eye-opener.  Chan Stevens and I were flyin' a bunch o' rockets for review and had picked a cold, clear, me hearties, largely windless day t' do our flying.  I say largely windless because t' Sky Hook managed t' catch t' one good breeze o' t' day.  T' B6-4 flight was quite high, me bucko, ya bilge rat, and made me realize that I stood little chance o' gettin' t' Hook back if I chose t' fly it on a C6.  After a high, matey, straight flight t' Hook caught t' breeze and was carried t' t' very edge o' t' VOA field.  I started me trek thinkin' that I was goin' t' stand very little chance o' recoverin' t' rocket, and several times considered callin' off t' search, but t' line I'd chosen took me almost right t' t' landin' spot, ya bilge rat, albeit a lot further than I'd initially thought.  As I remarked in me flight log, I felt priveleged t' get it back.

T' third and unfortunately final flight be on a surprisingly warm Saturday at B6-4 Field in Ft. Avast! Thomas, just a couple o' months after we'd moved into t' neighborhood behind t' field.  As usual, matey, shiver me timbers, matey, t' sound o' rockets drew a crowd, me bucko, me hearties, and I wound up with several o' t' neighborhood kids who took turns punchin' t' button for me and served as me recovery crew.  I chose a B4-4 for t' flight, arrr, obviously havin' forgotten t' height attained by t' previous B flight.  T' flight windcocked fairly severely over t' country club, matey, me hearties, but was descendin' nicely and looked like it was goin' t' drop right on t' infield o' t' ball diamond.  Then came the rogue thermal.  One o' me ground crew had run over t' what looked like t' landing zone, shiver me timbers, shiver me timbers, but t' rocket suddenly began rising.  He blindly ran along under it, matey, and was close t' runnin' out into traffic when I yelled and stopped him.  We watched t' rocket rise, me bucko, eventually attainin' greater height than t' flight had, shiver me timbers, all t' while driftin' in t' general direction o' t' river.  It appeared t' still be risin' as it disappeared over t' YMCA.  I ended t' day explainin' what a "thermal" was.