Sunday 1 December 1991

A Day at the Gliding Club

Jason Kelly

It was another typical Hawkes Bay day-fine, warm and sunny. The westerly wind rustled gently in the spring leaves as my mind wandered aimlessly. Suddenly it slipped into gear and spouted out:
                        Yesterday up in the air
                        I met a glider that wasn't there
                        It wasn't there again today
                        I think I'll have to give gliding away

Even though it wasn't a very original thought, it hit me like a poke in the eye with a sharp stick. I knew that to alleviate my boredom, I would have to spend a day at the gliding club.

I set off in a positive frame of mind and was looking forward to a nice restful day. That was a bad assumption! Arriving at the airfield, I noticed that flying was from the other end but someone was next to the hangar cursing their motor glider. Going over to see what the story was, I learned that the !#@!!!??###*# motor wouldn't reach the minimum ground revs. Well, it could be a lack of spark I suggested. To test my suggestion, I grabbed the end of the spark plug leads and said, "Turn it over." I foolishly countered the inevitable protestations with the infamous phrase, "Trust me ........ I know what I'm doing!".

Well, I can tell you that spark was certainly not a problem! First it came down the cables and it hit me and then it turned around and it bit me! After that electrifying experience that has left my hair frazzled to this very day, I suggested that there was probably nothing wrong with the beast. After putting it back together, cursing a few more times and becoming a little more frustrated, we found that she indeed ran like a charm! It was now 2.30pm but the wave beckoned. I accepted an offer of a fly in the back seat but decided to walk to the far end to regain my composure.

About half way down the sheep paddock, I saw a mob of sheep stampeding towards me. My knees were still weak and I couldn't run. Despite my best efforts, I tripped over and had 400 hoof prints engraved all over my body..... That wasn't so bad. Looking up, I saw some young kids that had obviously been chasing the sheep.  I politely asked what they were doing. Their answer took some time to comprehend, but, as the golfer over the fence smiled at me, it sank in. From the mouths of babes had come the reply, "We were looking for golf balls between the sheep ...."

Well, I finally dragged myself to the end of the field and noted that "Johnny on the spot" was the duty pilot. That was an unusual name for a club member I thought. Dismissing that thought, I eased my way into the backseat of the glider, we took off, found wave at 800 feet off the end of the runway and flew to Mount Bruce and back, all before dark at 5:45pm. It was just a typical Hawkes Bay wave flight really ........

Landing was uneventful until we hit a soft spot and the 535kg beast sank slowly up to its belly in mud. After much pulling, shoving, pushing and getting a couple of free mud packs on my face, we managed to get her out and put her away for the night. It was a pity about the tractor we used to help us though .... the weight had been too much so we left it where it lay .... the two back wheels in the mud up to the axle, the steering wheel up the nearby pine tree, the front half in the sheep paddock and the tow rope in the golf course ...... All that was left to do was to close the hangar doors and to visit the bar. This was much easier said than  done ....

One of the hangar doors just refused to budge. Even a bit of gentle persuasion with a hammer failed to help. Putting all our minds together, we came up with the great intellectual conclusion that the door had broken. More pushing and shoving ensued and still it wouldn't move. Suddenly, some one had a flash of inspiration and read the instructions on the door, "Do not push while rods are down. If you do, it will appear jammed." A flick of a rod and this major problem was solved. Not a worry!

I have a clear recollection of what happened next as I was the designated driver and so had been drinking coke all night. Others had been getting in to the home brew and thought that the apple cider they were drinking was absolutely beautiful stuff .... it was a pity that we had run out of it about three hours earlier and just kept refilling their glasses with beer ....

Anyway, the time had come to vacate the premises for the night and the gliding club had been asked to lock up as they had outlasted everyone else. After the typical rush not to be the last one out, one of the doors was found to be damaged. One of the few people remaining said he had some tools and went off to get them. The next thing we heard was the roar of his car as he left .... That was a fine mess he left us in! I tell you it is not funny to be deserted in the middle of the night before everything is secured! But, using a bit of Kiwi ingenuity, a lot of rope, rulers and other odds and ends, we managed to secure the premises for the night. Thank heavens! My nice relaxing day at the gliding club was finally over ........ almost.

Going outside to the car, I found that some kind person had locked it for me .... with the keys inside! Not knowing whether to laugh or cry, we started the long walk home. As the moon's rays danced through my free punk hairstyle and bounced off my abstract hoof tattoos, I looked skyward and the wave again beckoned. Maybe tomorrow ...................

© 1991, Jason M Kelly, all rights reserved.