Flatter than the Flatlands - Birchip Easter Comp 2006

Another day at the Birchip comp 06
Written by Hughbert Alexander

Hey there possums, let me tell yous a little story of a flight I had at the Birchip comp. There was just a bit too much wind, which seamed to be abating but not enough for the safety committee (one of which was me, stranger things have happened. I liken this to; giving the fat kid the keys to the pie shop), to allow the comp to go ahead for the day.

Sorry for the rather long winded introduction; I shall continue. After one tow to determine the conditions for the day, then calling the day off, I hooked on again. Rick towed me to 1300’ and into a waiting thermal that slowly lifted me up and out of the paddock.

It does get better. Goal for the day had been declared for Nyah West airfield. Approximately 75km to the N/E. About 15kms from goal, at about 3000’ I spotted two wedgies at around a grand. How good did they look, flying along. A large black bird and a youngster. At 4500’ something caught my eye. I turned around to see that both the wedgies where 1.5 meters off the keel of my glider and just above me. My heart rate increased, pupils dilated, and my energy levels increased. Mind you this wasn’t the activation of the flight or fight syndrome, this was me getting excited. I kept thermalling and both the birds stayed on my keel for about 5 minutes. I was moist. The juvenile left but the mother (?) hung wid me, still going up. She moved off into the real core of the lift. (Which I thought I was in) and our paths crossed. She approached me head on, with her 1.5+m wing span, tip feathers splayed and brilliant yellow/brown eyes, she passed over the leading edge of the glider with very little clearance, then left me to fly alone.

I yelled “woooooo”! as loud as I could. Someone in Swan Hill reported their windows rattling in the frames.

Eventually I made the Nyah West goal which, had a loverly thermal coming off it, so I ponced about a bit. The paddock looked abandoned. After landing and carrying the glider across to the gate, another glider flew in. Gary Fimmery, a South Aussie pilot, followed by Peter ‘Pretty boy’ Davies.

“What no Beer at goal”?

As one of the organisers of the comp I took it upon myself to hitch into town to obtain the substance of gold required by the high achievers. Alas, I hadn’t considered that looking rather poofy in the black flight suit with pink shoulder flashes, that no-one would pick me up, especially in the conservative back blocks of the Northern Mallee. I walked the whole way, 2-3km I reckon. Staggering into the store the chappy behind the jump said “What can I do for you, ‘fag’”. Well, he didn’t really say ‘fag’, I just felt like putting that in to spice things up a bit. “I would like to purchase a slab of your finest beverage.”

“Do you want cans or stubbies mate”?
(You may like to use this line yourselves one day)
“Which one is lighter”?
“Why”?
“Oh I’ve gotta walk back to the airfield cos I just landed my glider there and there’s a couple of rather thirsty lads awaiting my return”
Then came, “If you just wait a minute I have to do a delivery so I could drop you out there if you want”.
“Super doper, that’d be excellent.

As we began packing up the gliders and consuming the said beverage of winners, Karen arrived to pick up Peter PB Davies, and as there where only two more of us, Gary and me managed to scunge a lift.

Half cut, on arriving at the Nyah West pub we had a couple more cleansing ales to wash away the taste of the first many. While we enjoyed a meal at the table, we convince two lads from the local country roads board to dine with us. Much drivvle ensued, and dribble too. Great meal at this pub.

Once outside, Gary and I discussed how to find South using the southern cross. We used this on the way home as we were lost. And I was right. More beers on the way home. Goal Goal Goal!!!!!! I wooped and hollered on entering Jo’s house of repute. Goal Goal Goal again. And again and again.

“Where did you get to Hughbert”?