The meeting was good. However, it put me behind time-wise. At 12:30 I still was not assembled; also, I decided to rip off the old seal foam around the perimeter of the canopy and replace it with new; it turned out to be a futile attempt. I had a wrong replacement foam tape. I decided to fly without it. Finally all was in the glider, I filled up with 14 gallons, did a positive control check, and launched late, at 2:30 pm. All along - already since about 9 o'clock, there were great cu's all around. But this day was to be a short, speed flying day, I commanded myself.

Shortly before me, Curt Davis launched in VH. Mike helped me launch, doing a great job holding the sloshy wings level. My first take-off with water this year was uneventful, and so was the tow. John towed me up in wide circles. After the release I teamed up with Curt and we climbed soon to the 8,000' base of a nearby cloud. Great cumulus clouds were plentiful in all directions. Towards northeast there was a solid cloudstreet; I suggested to Curt that we head out that way, and departed.

Having water and my charging ahead probably did not help in our team-flying. When Curt called what was my location, I was already over Douglas Creek. He kept stopping for thermals and started lagging behind.

The street was occasionally dumping some rain but it did not effect the lift.

Just before crossing Banks Lake. It turned out that I did not make any circling stops until Hartline, 52 miles from our departure. Curt turned around and stayed in Wenatchee local area. It was a good decision for him, for what unveiled for me ahead might not be very pleasant for him. It certainly was not for me!

I continued ramming ahead under the cloud street like gangbusters, cruising at speeds of up to 125 mph. I covered 84 miles on just three circling thermals, counting the initial one after the release. My average cross-country speed was a phenomenal (for me) 84 mph, since I covered those 84 miles in exactly 60 minutes.

My high-speed strategy worked fine until I came to the end of the plateau and decided to cross Columbia River towards Seven Bays. I allowed myself to drop below 5,000'. Before I knew it, I was looking from close range at the west-facing cliffs of the hill in the bend of the Columbia, across from Lincoln. I anticipated that there would be a thermal there that would hoist me up. I arrived there at 5,100' but there was no workable thermal to be found - certainly not with the water I had on board. After three turns it became obvious to me that I had to dump the ballast so that I could make my circles tighter; I opened the valves and dumped it all. And yet, after altogether 14 circles and 10 minutes of frantic efforts I dropped down to 3,800'.

I realized that I was in an outlanding situation. I had been to Seven Bays before, but it was always very high, I had not even positively identified the location of its airport. I knew I was close to it - just four and a half miles - but I still did not know where it was. Initially I started heading in the wrong direction; I must credit my GPS in correcting my error and steering me the right way. When I was less than 3 miles from the airport, I finally spotted it hidden on a rising hillside, nestled among houses, a grass strip.

I was 1,800' above the airport elevation at that time. Suddenly I hit a bump and started working it; knowing where the airport was, and having decided that I would land to the south, I could now concentrate fully on my resurrection efforts. The initial bump cost me another 100' loss, but brought confidence that there might be some lift nearby. I moved a mile north along the shore, and at 3,200' (still 2.4 miles from and 1,600' above the airport) I hit a weak thermal. Very carefully I started centering it. While I was certain I would not lose the thermal, I grabbed the camera and took a panorama sequence.

It took eighteen (!) turns to rise just 500'.

Then another fourteen turns to gain another 1,000'.

After all that circling I was still was only at 4,700' and could lose the thermal very easily, drop, and still would have to land out at Seven Bays, considering the pockets of vicious sink surrounding the areas with tremendous lift I encountered before.

Here is the airport once I finally got a good look at it.

Half an hour elapsed since I had to dump water. My phenomenal cross-country speed average fizzled down to 59 mph, and by the time I finally hit "pay-dirt" and climbed to 6,500' over the confluence of Columbia and Snake rivers, that speed was 53 mph.

To sum up, in one tactical error - allowing myself to drop below 6,000' with no reliable thermal ahead - I lost all my speed, and almost landed out.

I felt a boost to my morale from the fact that I did not land out. Once up and cruising again, I thought I might head south - maybe to Odessa - and then back to Wenatchee. With hindsight, I should have returned to the cloudstreet I took eastbound and take it westbound as soon as I could, while it still worked as a street and not became a line of thunderclouds it turned into within one hour.

I decided not to take the street, and instead cloud hop in the illuminated area, south of the dark blotch twenty miles wide and eighty miles long, caused by the street. The clouds worked o.k., not the reliable generators as the clouds under the street; half of them fizzled by the time I got to them, and so I switched my strategy by heading only to distant dust devils. That worked.

When I arrived over the Summer Falls at 5:45 pm, all of the western horizon was one wall of thunderclouds; there were a few corridors between them where sun was shining on the other side.

But as I headed west as far as six miles south of US 2 intersection, 28 miles from Wenatchee, even those gaps closed with shower curtains, and cloudbases descending down to 4,000'.

I crossed Lake Lenore (in the foreground) and continued into the sunlit ground area. By the time I got there, it no longer was sunny and instead I was staring at a wall of dark blue and violet clouds and rain.

Also, a secondary wall of rain developed along Quincy ridge from Crescent Barall the way to the Towers at Ephrata. I retreated towards Ephrata, and called Emily and told her of my predicament. She confirmed that right then there was a strong thunderstorm over Wenatchee. I said I might land at Ephrata, but that I still had good altitude and I would try to wait out the storm.

Then I glanced west and saw a lightning bolt right where I originally thought I could sneak through - it was a good decision to turn around.

A while back, while still heading directly west, I noticed a wonderful street going south; possibly all the way to Richland. It would have been great if I were Eric - who is from there.

Knowing this street was there, when I realized my direct path west was blocked, I thought perhaps I could make use of this street and get around?

I climbed as high as I could under the cloud over Lake Lenore, and started heading toward that street. After a mile or two I realized that returning all the way east to the street would take me way too far out.

I changed my mind and instead decided to fly around the Quincy ridge rain wall, cross the hole over Ephrata and connect to some lift south of there - it was a chance; I very easily could have arrived there and find nothing. I'd still have reserve altitude for a safe retreat and "land out" at Ephrata.

I made a turn towards the Quincy ridge rain wall, hoping that there might be a squall-like lift there. There was not, it must have been on the other, northern side. So I dashed south about three miles, and gained about four hundred feet riding the leading edge of the storm south of Ephrata, fine spray of water droplets fogging up the canopy. Then I spotted a few clouds northwest that could possibly harbor some lift underneath them. The gamble paid off, I gained gradually about 900'.

I committed to heading west, with Quincy airport as an alternate.

28 miles out I commenced the final glide; still below the glide slope with 10 knots head wind and 5 kt McCready dialed in. After several miles those settings proved to be overly cautious; and 20 miles out I knew I had the glide made - barring encountering some heavy sink and increasing headwind. By that time Wenatchee ASOS broadcasted wind 330° at 11 kts gusting to 19, so caution was in order..

I snaked under the remnants of some cu's.

Eventually I arrived above Pangborn with a very comfortable safety margin, at 3,900'.

I flew a few miles past the airport and after I turned around, I took one last parting shot (below), showing the route from where I managed to sneak into Wenatchee.

Emily was a great sport, and waited for me with dinner which we had "fashionably late" at 8:30 pm.

What an adventure!