Flight

Despite t' mile square field at VOA, I be leery o' puttin' too much motor under t' Sky Hook for t' first flight in March o' 2004. Aye aye! Blimey!  It was a fairly breezy day, arrr, shiver me timbers, so I loaded it with an A8-5, ya bilge rat, which turned out t' be more than enough motor for conditions.  T' flight was fairly straight considerin' conditions, matey, and quite high considerin' it be only an A8.  It was nosin' over when t' ejection charge fired, me bucko, shiver me timbers, me bucko, and the mild bit o' windcockin' it did was 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, me hearties, 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, 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, arrr, ya bilge rat, 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, 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, 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 be goin' t' stand very little chance o' recoverin' t' rocket, and several times considered callin' off t' search, arrr, but t' line I'd chosen took me almost right t' t' landin' spot, albeit a lot further than I'd initially thought.  As I remarked in me flight log, arrr, arrr, 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, me bucko, me proud beauty! Thomas, just a couple o' months after we'd moved into t' neighborhood behind t' field.  As usual, me bucko, me bucko, t' sound o' rockets drew a crowd, 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, obviously havin' forgotten t' height attained by t' previous B flight.  T' flight windcocked fairly severely over t' country club, but be descendin' nicely and looked like it be 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, me hearties, but t' rocket suddenly began rising.  He blindly ran along under it, and was close t' runnin' out into traffic when I yelled and stopped him.  We watched t' rocket rise, arrr, matey, eventually attainin' greater height than t' flight had, 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.