by Ken Renshaw
Tina joked, "Maybe I should have worn a sports bra. These shoulder straps don't do much for a girl's figure. They are more flattering if I spread them outside my bust line like this."
I replied, "They are not a fashion statement. You might not like the way they are squeezed by the harness when we hit a downdraft. Nobody is going to be looking at your figure. I'll be behind you, you know."
Tina, bent over and looked at the instrument panel. “Where are all the gauges? I have seen the cockpits of other airplanes and they have lots of gauges."
"In a glider all you need is a compass to tell you which direction you are going, an airspeed indicator for how fast you are going there, an altimeter, and a rate-of-climb gauge to tell you how fast you are going up or down. Gliders are all about flying, not gauges."
I asked her if she was warm enough and she said yes. We sat down next to the glider, leaned our backs against the hull, opened our thermos of coffee, and cupped our hands around the cups as we drank.
"What is there about soaring that attracts you to it so much?" asked Tina as she patted the sailplane. "It's kind of a guy thing, isn't it?"
"I had never thought of it as such, but I guess you are right. There are few female pilots. I recently read David Brooks' book, The Social Animal, and he made the case that much of our behavior is derived from subconscious thinking. We have mental processes going on that we do not know about, exhibiting behavior that is often instinctual in nature, and displaying patterns of behavior we learn from parents, siblings or other role models. Maybe soaring is a primitive need for conquest, overcoming or harnessing nature, or maybe it is about freedom, as in free-as-a bird. All I know is that I need, no, must do it.
"Some guys own sailplanes, keep them in trailers tied down out here, but hardly ever fly them, like the people who have yachts that never leave the marina. To them, it might be an ownership-identity kind of thing.
"For me, I have to fly, and it is good to get away from the office and LA. It allows me to get away from whatever case I am working on and to think of something else. One time, I took off at 10:00, later felt hungry, looked at my watch and found it was 2:00. I had been too busy concentrating to eat lunch. There are thrilling aesthetic experiences to be had flying among the clouds. Today could be one of those days."
I looked a Tina and said, "Somehow, I wanted to share that with you today."
Tina looked back at me affectionately and said, "I'm glad."
Dave walked over and said, "Look, the gap is starting to form in the eastern part of the ridge. Better get ready to go in a few minutes." Dave walked to the Pawnee tow plane.
We got up and brushed the dust off our pants. I said to Tina, "You walk the wing tip so it doesn't drag on the ground and I'll push us into takeoff position."
We rolled the big plane to the center of the runway. I helped Tina strap herself in the front seat and got into the back seat, strapped my self in, and said to Tina, "I am going to go through my check sheet and then we will be ready to go. We will wait until the wave gets more established"
Before the wave forms, clouds are streaming over the mountains and the whole sky is overcast. Then, as the wind changes to the right direction, a gap a mile wide starts to form on our side of the mountains. It is as though someone unzips the clouds along the mountains and reveals the clear blue sky.
Celia came out to assist in our takeoff. She attached the Pawnee's tow cable to the glider and then went to the wingtip. I was ready to go so I gave her a thumbs-up. She picked up the wingtip to signal Dave in the tow plane that I was ready to go. Dave started the Pawnee's engine, and taxied to take up the tow cable slack.
I said to Tina, "Ready to go?"
She replied, "Yes, this is scary!"
I signaled Dave by wiggling my rudder. We started down the runway, and in a few seconds we were flying, staying low to the ground, to let the tow plane get flying and up to full speed.
Tina cried, "Wee, this is fun! I'm flying."
The tow plane began to climb. I pulled back on the stick to follow him. I said to Tina, "In a few minutes it will get turbulent and the tow plane will suddenly go up a hundred feet or down a hundred feet, and I will follow. It is like roller coaster ride, but won't last long."
There was quiet for a few minutes and then Tina giggled and said, "This is really fun! Look, there is the Devil's Punchbowl. It really looks different from up here."
In a few minutes we hit the turbulence near the wave. The tow plane suddenly shot up to forty-five degrees above us, and a second later we were pushed down in our seats as the sailplane was thrust upward. Then, the tow plane almost disappeared below us as it entered falling air and we soon followed, being thrust upward against our shoulder harness by the acceleration, heads nearly bumping on the canopy. We chased the tow plane down and then suddenly he was above us again. Immediately we were again pushed down in out seats.
After a few minutes of this roller coaster ride, as we were again being thrust down in our seats, Tina asked in grunt, "Are we almost there, yet?"
"Almost there," I replied. "In a minute you will hear a loud 'twang' when I release the tow rope. That is normal."
In a few seconds the turbulence vanished into an astounding silence. The tow plane stopped moving up and down and seemed to hover in front of us. "Twang!" I released the towrope and the tow plane turned to leave us. I turned the sailplane to fly parallel to the mountains. The air was as smooth as glass and the sailplane flew in astonishing silence.
"Tina, see that gauge on the right, pointing up at forty-five degrees? It is telling us that we are climbing four hundred feet a minute, while we are flying at sixty miles-per-hour. If we moved right, toward the mountains, the lift would decrease. Close to the mountain, we would lose altitude fast. We are in a thin band of smooth, climbing air. Off to the left is turbulent air like we came through on the way here. I'll fly that way a little bit and you will be able to feel the wingtip vibrate."
I steered a little bit left and then we could feel the shudder of the wingtip in the turbulent air. We had climbed through the gap and were now higher than the mountains, flying in smooth, clear blue air. We could see the flat sea of overcast to the South covering LA, stretching over hundreds of miles. To the North we could see the clouds forming over the Sierra range. Ahead, at the edge of the wave, a roll cloud was forming, a long, stationary cloud rolling in the lee of the wave. Wispy fingers of cloud, like waterfalls, streamed upward for thousands of feet, creating rainbows and sparkling in the sun.
"This is magical!" said Tina in a low voice, "Silently flying along something that looks like Niagara Falls, turned upside down. I can see forever over LA. Almost a spiritually transcendent experience."
"I agree," I replied, as I reached forward and put my hand on Tina's shoulder. Tina lifted her hand and placed it on mine. We flew like this for several minutes and then I started to feel a little turbulence.
I made a few slight turns and said, " I think we have to head back, we are at the end of the wave. Were about as high as we should be without oxygen and we don't want to get up to where the airliners fly. We don't have to worry about being here, airline pilots will avoid the wave areas. They like to keep their passengers from bouncing off the cabin ceiling."
I reversed course. As I got into the glassy smooth air, I returned my hand to Tina's shoulder. Her hand returned to mine, and we silently enjoyed the spectacular experience, riding both the wave of air and the wave of joy.
I flew to where we could drop out of the bottom of the wave and took a less turbulent route back to the field.
We rolled to a stop in the sailplane tie-down area, I opened the canopy and we both sat silently for a minute.
"That was amazing!" said Tina.
We both unbuckled our harness and climbed out onto the tarmac. Without a word Tina gave me a big hug, held me and said, "Thank you, I'll never forget that experience. But, now I have to visit the ladies' room."
I replied, "After I tie this bird down I am going
to walk down to check out my sailplane trailer. I'll meet you there."
I suddenly felt uneasy as my attention turned to my sailplane. I closed my eyes, and saw, in a visualization, the vague outline of something scratched in the ground under my trailer. I hurried to the trailer, and there it was. A symbol was scratched in the hard earth under the back of the trailer; the same symbol drawn in the dust of Candice's windshield in the parking garage. I took out my cell phone and took several pictures. Then I took out my keys and opened the access door into the trailer. Nothing seemed to be disturbed. I checked the access door on the other end where everything also seemed normal. 'There might be prints,' I thought. When I looked closely, I could see the normal desert dust grime on the trailer around the doors had been wiped clean. 'I'll let Dore's security service people know about this tomorrow.' I said to myself.
Then, Tina walked up and cheerily said, "Picnic time!"
The cold wind was coming up, driven by the wave-weather.
"We need a sheltered place for our picnic," I said. "We could go over to the patio behind the mobile home."
Tina dropped her eyes and said, "Not today, let's go somewhere out in nature."
"OK," I said, "That wasn't supposed to be a trick. I know just the place."
We went back to the airport office and I paid my bill and wrote a note requesting people inform me if Mr. White-male-Caucasian-five-five-stocky build-grey-crew-cut-gold-rimmed-glasses showed up again.
"What was that about?"
"I'll tell you at lunch," I replied."
We drove up a dirt road alongside the airfield to the end and then turned uphill on another steep rough dirt and desert rock road. Near the top of the hill, we came to the ruins. There, only the stacked river-stone walls of a barn remained, the roof of which was long gone, with a cement floor and an open side to the North where nearly all the rock wall had fallen. We went inside to where the walls sheltered us from the wind and it was warm in the sun. A clean, but weatherworn picnic table sat near the wall by a fire pit, which had apparently been made from some of the rock from the fallen walls.
I explained that a glider pilot I knew had cleaned the place up and used it as a place to park his RV when he came to fly.
"It is a beautiful view," said Tina.
Looking away from the mountains toward the Sierras, we could see the clouds were broken and spotty sunlight was illuminating patches of desert. As the clouds moved, the desert seemed engulfed by waves of light and dark.
"Why is this here?" asked Tina.
"I have told you about the great, greed-driven dreams for California City up north from here. This ruin is an earlier version of that. Almost a century ago, there was socialist-utopian-driven dream of building a planned city here. The logic of the idea was great, there was more rainfall then, so farming was possible. But, some of the movement joiners were not driven to do their share of the labor, and others were not driven to share their wives. The colony fell apart in a few years. Way down there, at the bottom of this ridge, there are still some olive trees, which have survived from that era."
Tina observed, "One has to be careful of what dreams one buys into, especially if they are based on greed, or something-for-nothing, or other men's wives. In spite of all that, the energy at this spot is really good. Must be happy cow energy."
She glanced at me, apparently thinking she had gone somewhere she shouldn't with me.
"You are right," I replied.
Tina looked surprised and said, "I thought you didn't believe in energies and things like that."
"It doesn't bother me now. There can be a shortcut is space-time to when there were happy people and happy cows here."
"I am sorry I didn't pack any milk to drink. We will only have coffee today," said Tina as she started to unpack the picnic basket. She gave me a mysterious smile I did not understand as she took off her down jacket.
Today, she had a different table setting. The tablecloth was blue and white checked and the plastic plates were white. The tumblers were stainless steel and said Starbucks on the side. She set out a crystal dish of olives, celery, small tomatoes, and radishes. She unwrapped sandwiches.
"I was thinking as we drove up here that I could write a narrative of the wave flight, all the turbulence, and then the beauty, and the potential danger lurking a few feet away, and then some more turbulence, and a glide to a smooth landing. Then I could give it to my high school students and ask them to use that as a metaphor to write a story about people interacting, teen age dating, ups and downs, for example."
I continued the thought. "I had never thought about wave flying as a metaphor. I have certainly had some turbulent relationships, though.
"Lately, my life hasn't been ups and downs so much. It is more like the overcast clouds of my life are unzipping, exposing a whole new blue sky of something I don't understand, and need to explore."
Without saying anything, Tina reached in the picnic basket, pulled out a magic marker and a napkin and wrote something on it. She pushed it across the table to me, put her chin on her hand, and looked at me with her impish grin. On the paper was a big "A+."
"Thanks," I said. "Oh, I almost forgot to mention, I had a premonition that proved to be true today. Before I went to check on my sailplane trailer, I had a great feeling of uneasiness and had a visualization of seeing something scratched in the ground at my trailer. When I got there, I did see something that alarmed me, a mystical symbol scratched in the ground. That same symbol appeared on the windshield of one of my key witnesses car while she was in my office. Colson is having their security consultants check it out."
"Premonition, ok, extra credit for that," She said nodding and adding raised eyebrows to her grin.
"I love the desert," she added. "This has been a wonderful day. I do have to be back early tonight because tomorrow I have to correct papers and do grades. Maybe we should stop by your desert mobile home to let me freshen up."
She grinned mischievously and added, "Do you have any Snickers bars there?"
I felt that mysterious energy around my heart again.
****
Monday, as I entered my office, Zaza greeted me with a slight smile and said, "He has that look about him again. The desert flowers must be in bloom. Weekends, it must be Flopsy. No! I can't keep track. Flowers in order?"
I ignored her and said, "I am going to go to Rocky Butte for a court date on Thursday at nine o'clock, and to see Steve Manteo. Make me reservations for me to fly to Sacramento on Wednesday, getting there in the morning if possible. Get me a car, and make a reservation at some motel in Rocky Butte for one night. I'll be in court there on Thursday morning, and I'll drive out to see Steve in the afternoon. I'll play it by ear about where I'll stay Thursday night. Get me a flight back to LA in the early morning on Friday."
"Got it!" she replied. "Dore Hamilton is coming in tomorrow morning at nine, only for a half hour she said. She doesn't want a formal progress report. She said she wanted to discuss some security issues about the trial."
I spent the day in the office.
****
The next morning Zaza buzzed me and said, "Dore Hamilton just arrived and is in the conference room."
I put on my coat and hurried to the conference room, getting there as Carolyn was showing her in.
"Good morning Dave," said Dore as she thrust her hand out for a handshake. "How is the trial preparation going? Are you getting comfortable with the subject?"
Dore was wearing a navy blue business suit with a scarlet scarf tied loosely around her neck. She was giving me her icy stare and I knew I was being 'read.' In a few seconds her face relaxed and seemed friendly.
"Good to see you, Dore" I replied. "I am now quite comfortable with these new ideas. Dr. Montgomery was very helpful. I have a court date in Rocky Butte Thursday and I'll see Steve Manteo that evening and stay over as required."
Dore was giving me one of her highly practiced professional smiles. "We can talk about that later. I'm sure you have it und
er control. I think we have some security issues we need to address. Our security consultants have been talking to your office security and have done some further investigations. It appears the trial has attracted the attention of a group of people we should be careful of. They call themselves Skeptemos, and claim to be part of a secret organization that has existed since the Renaissance. Their role is to stamp out bad science, which they define as anything but Newtonian science. They especially like to go after anything of a psychic nature.
"There are legitimate organizations, scientific offshoots, of otherwise reputable people that make it their business to debunk all psychic phenomena. These are not the same guys.
"Skeptemos seems to be more like the guys that get totally involved with online video games and that go to game conventions dressed as game characters, wearing tights or capes. From our reports, Skeptemos people seem to believe that there is a conspiracy to destroy Science so that evil people can take over the world with superstition and fear. They feel called-on to save the world. The 'secret' order doesn't seem to have been in existence for more than a few years.
"We traced the tracking device on your car to a person who has a website that touts some of the Skeptemos line. He is a retired Special Forces enlisted man. He fits the description of the man Dr. Montgomery saw near her car. He could be dangerous.
"Our security firm suggests that we rent a place outside Rocky Butte for the duration of our business up there. Then, we can have people come and go without notice and not stir the locals up. An isolated place would make the security easier. I'll take care of the arrangements."
I replied, "Somehow that doesn't cause me much concern, but I'll defer to your judgment. I am going up there next week for court date and to visit Steve Manteo. I am going to hang around town a little bit to get a feel for the place. I understand about small towns like Rocky Butte. I was raised in a small logging town in northern California. Everyone knows what everyone else is doing and the rumor hotline is faster that the speed of light. It might be wise to secretly put a local on the security payroll, someone who would know about all the rumors, and someone who can tell you about strangers that might be spending time there."