The exact flight statistics are on my IGC file, so I'll skip them over here, and just concentrate on a narrative.

After I towed up I met with Kurt Davis, flying the club's LS3A (VH). It took me a while to learn the new call sign, VH, and a few tries to raise Kurt. But his radio worked fine, and we met in a thermal over Rock Island Creek. I was pleased and at the same time - let's admit it - disappointed that VH was performing just as good as CD that I was flying - (the ole' ego trip) - but really, it was great to watch that the two ships were performing very closely to each other, and that they could stay together for long trips.

VH charged ahead and we flew in a formation for about five miles, when I detoured about twenty degrees to get under a dark looking cloud base; indeed, when I got there, I was rewarded with lift in excess of ten knots. I radioed VH to join me - at that time he appeared to be heading towards Quincy. I continued going south, meandering while flying straight from one dark cloud base to another, and another, until I got over the Ancient (Quincy) Lakes and started thermalling.

I had hoped that VH changed its course and followed me; it turned out he continued on to Quincy. (Later I noticed Kurt wrote in the log, "3500' over Quincy!". He still had over 2000' of air to work before he'd have to land, but it probably seemed to him that he got alarmingly low.)

I did not hear from VH for the rest of my flight. After climbing up above the lakes, I turned further south, determined to get over to at least Vantage.

This day the air was quite wet and the cloud bases formed initially at just five thousand feet; quite low for Eastern Washington's standards. As the day went on, the bases started to lift, and by the time I departed Ancient Lakes, they were already at sixty five hundred. Even so, the bridge at Vantage over the Columbia River seemed awfully far in the distance.

A little later I heard 6A (Eric Greenwell) on the radio, saying that he was passing George, and inquiring with the Ephrata guys about the conditions there. Well, 6A must have come from the south - Eric is from Richland - so obviously there must be lift there as well. Encouraged, I moved on.

It really was not all that scary to get to Vantage, hopping from one cloud to another, arriving there a lot higher than during my last visit.

That other time (in August 1992) I had to land at Vantage, in gusty 40 knot winds from the west, at the airport below. This picture is taken from over a mile above it. During my previous flight here, I started to get low after leaving Ancient Lakes, and was down to 2200 feet above the bridge. With the wind that strong, a mountain wave formed right over the river. I parked myself in it, maintaining altitude while going back and forth from the Wild Horses Monument (about a mile north of the bridge) to the Othello turnoff (half a mile south of the bridge). I was waiting for my crew, Emily, who was pulling a trailer, and directed her by radio to the airport. She reported there were weeds growing three feet high on the dirt short cross runway which I had to take, since the wind was howling at exactly the right angle to the main runway. Emily was kind enough to pull out by hand the most prominent weeds, and then I made a series of S turns approaching the airport from over the white-capped river, not to lose the runway from sight, and then landed through the opening in the row of poplars lining the shore, stopping in about 100 feet, just past the intersection with the main runway. Emily even video'ed me on landing. Now the runway is X-ed out which means that the airport is closed!

Back to my recent flight. As I circled over Vantage, I took several pictures.

The one on the left is looking south to Wanapum Dam, the old railroad bridge beyond, and the gap in the Saddle Mountains that Columbia River muscled its way through. I wonder what kind of settlement is the one down below - perhaps a salmon hatchery? or someone's private resort? Have never driven down there from Vantage.

Here is the extended view towards the dam, railroad bridge and the gap.

Mattawa is just off the right upper corner of the picture, and the western flanks of the Saddle Mountains are on the top of the picture.

The straight road is the state highway 243, the main artery on the way from Wenatchee to Richland. The settlement by the bridge is the hamlet of Beverly (here I'm borrowing place names from the Street Atlas), and the little bay on the right is the mouth of Johnson Creek, near which the defunct railroad from Ellensburg descends into the Columbia River canyon.

The old railway's function has long since been taken over by the Interstate Freeway which crosses Columbia at Vantage.

Here is the view towards the west from over Vantage. Two roads snake parallel with each other through the canyons - the old highway on the right - and the Interstate on the left.

There is a nice hike starting from the old road a couple of miles west of Vantage through the "petrified forest" (Emily and I once hiked that). After that you won't want to see any more petrified wood in your lifetime, it's that intense.

Rotating further north, still over Vantage, here is what Columbia River looks like as it flows slowly from left to right. All the land on the left is very rarely visited by any humans - a twenty mile stretch of wilderness. This is the only area along the Interstate where for about fifteen minutes, while driving at 75 mph at night between Vantage and George, you don't see any electric lights whatsoever anywhere.

Back to my flight. Enough daydreaming, back to reality. I noticed that the clouds quality started to change. The evenly and closely spaced small cumulus clouds started to give way to coagulated towering ones, but farther apart. My track changed from a straight line to a zig-zagged one, as I hunted for elusive lift. I detoured about two miles east, across the river from Vantage, to over the diatomaceous earth mines. Years back, I used to call on the Quincy processing plant wooing them to ship the earth via a steamship line I then represented. Once on the way to Ephrata, when weather was not quite soarable, I detoured and drove to one of the mines to see the white earth from close by. Millions and billions of microscopic crustaceans left their skeletons there to form one of the best raw materials for making swimming pool filters, supplying drinking water filtration plants, and for many other uses.

Again I was awakened from connecting memories to places I saw below as the gap between my last thermal and the prospective next one started widening. I forced myself to abandon the weak, broken and dying lift and made a long glide to over Ancient Lakes where I suspected that basalt cliffs would radiate the accumulated heat and form better thermals.

I was rewarded by strong lift taking CD and me to cloud base. Once at Trinidad, there was an awesome cloud street heading unfortunately not in the direction I wanted to go. It went to the north east. High speed cruising was possible without losing altitude for extended periods of time; I could have probably flown all the way to Grand Coulee Dam - but the clouds behind me might have died, and I'd be stuck and without stepping stones to get back to Wenatchee. So at Palisades I peeled off and headed along a big arc westward; making the Lookout and Obadashian Bridge my last turnpoints. As I flew over East Wenatchee I took a picture of the area where I live. Besides taking the picture I also amused myself by checking the accuracy of the venerable Zander computer. Eight miles out I calculated the arrival height above Pangborn. Once over the airport, I was pleased to see that the actual arrival height equaled the calculated one; and that the miles to go also were accurate. All that with the MC setting at zero, and ground wind less than 3 mph.

Others - the Ephrata and Richland bunch - flew for another at least half an hour longer - I could have too. When I arrived over the airport there was a sudden surge of lift. However, Emily and I had guests coming over for dinner, and so I had to quit earlier. I tied the ship down and headed home, looking forward to another great day of soaring.

The next day, Sunday, it rained ...