Flight

Despite t' mile square field at VOA, I was leery o' puttin' too much motor under t' Sky Hook for t' first flight in March o' 2004.  It was a fairly breezy day, shiver me timbers, 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, shiver me timbers, 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, shiver me timbers, 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, me hearties, me bucko, 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, shiver me timbers, me hearties, clear, me bucko, matey, 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 be quite high, arrr, 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, 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 be 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, albeit a lot further than I'd initially thought.  As I remarked in me flight log, shiver me timbers, ya bilge rat, I felt priveleged t' get it back.

T' third and unfortunately final flight was on a surprisingly warm Saturday at B6-4 Field in Ft. Thomas, just a couple o' months after we'd moved into t' neighborhood behind t' field.  As usual, 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, matey, but be 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, 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, ya bilge rat, me bucko, 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.