Wednesday, March 30, 2005

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! (not Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!)

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaah! is the sound of lifting the garbage can and having a copperhead slither out from under it.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh! is the sound of sinking into the hot tub on a cool night after a long, stress filled day.

Tonight was an Ahhhhhhhhhhh! night of flying.

The sun was out in full force all day but somewhere around three things started clouding up. Even with the cloud cover it still looked like the evening would be flyable.

d. and I headed out east for the best evening of flying in a long time. Most of the flights I have had lately, although not fully Aaaaaaaaaaaaah! flights, have not been the kind of idyllic flights we used to have flying in totally laminar air at the beach.

The wind was light but we both managed reverse launches (after flying out east for so long, neither of us is intimidated by forward launches anymore - we both seem to nail them every time).

Off the ground and ... Ahhhhhhhhh! Nothing bumpy or scary tonight; the thermals were smooth and fun to play in. Hands-off flying conditions meant that I had plenty of time to take pictures.

The surrounding fields were still a bit wet.





I think these photos really show d.'s better side... if you look closely, you can almost feel the ... Ahhhhhhhhhh!





With spring here, farms are really beginning to grow. From up here, the smell of orange blossoms just added to the Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!



As I said, tonight was an Ahhhhhhhhhhhh! night.

Monday, March 28, 2005

Finding myself

I know that this blogspot is supposed to be about the Parastars but there is just not much happening with the club. Yes, I am busily preparing for the meeting on Thursday but I figured that I would take a breather from that, have dinner and do something distracting.
Had the weather been better (it's blowing over 25 mph out there), flying might have been an option... but it's not.
My distraction this evening was... I'm almost embarassed to say... well, I... uh... I googled myself. What I did was brought up a search engine (I used google but you can use whichever you choose) and I typed in my name, "Greg Kaspar", and hit Search.
I do not have a common name and the spelling of my last name is not typical - most prefer to spell it with an "er" rather than an "ar". The only place I expected to see my name was on the Parastars website. I was a little surprised at the places my name was mentioned.
One that wasn't too off the wall was the USPPA site where they posted this picture.



Although many share my surname, only a few share my full name. I suppose that I could have specified my full first name in the search but the only time people use my full name is when they are angry. This was supposed to be fun, I didn't need to find people being angry with me.

Western Nursery and Landscape Association lists Kaspar's tree farm in Nebraska and the owner who shares my cognomen. Perhaps this tree farming version of me has a smaller, offspring version of me that attends the University of Nebraska and enjoyed Angi Sada'a article, "Omaha is like a fat girl with a pretty face", which appeared on the University's online student newspaper. Maybe I should write to that version of me at the email address published in his response to the the pretty face article, kazmania30@aol.com.

Growing up, my brother, Basil, had the nickname Baz. At 10, I thought that was a cool nickname. He was later nicknamed Kaz which, judging from Nebraska's email address, must be somewhat common for people to make the leap from Kaspar to Kaz. Had my brother gone to college, he might have had friends witty enough to make the quantum leap from Kaz to Kazmania but he didn't so he was stifled at just plan Kaz.

I, on the other hand, lacked nicknames. I guess that technically, "Greg" is a nickname but it doesn't carry the same sense of intimacy and comradarie that Baz does. Having been one of seven and an awkward sort of kid, I was most often called, "your brother". Wasn't too bad coming from my sibling's friends but when it became my parent's way of addressing me...

... sorry, getting off topic...

There's a guy, Drew Mackie, who has a blogspot and mentioned his friends, Greg and Kaspar in that order. I guess that doesn't really count towards finding myself but I did hang around and read his Back Of The Cereal Box blog. If you take a trip over there, notice that the URL includes the moniker "kidicarus" which, I guess, makes this more flying realated.

I found my name on a Clarinet Bulletin Board as a reference to a style of mouthpiece. From tree farmer to student to clarinet mouthpiece. Isn't it fun to be me? You should try this with your name, I'll bet it's just as much fun to be you, too!

Taking a global perspective, I found myself asking questions about e-commerce on the University of Syndey's School of Electrical and Information Engineering website.

I was really hoping to save the big one for last but there wasn't a big one... that was it. No Greg Kaspar astronaut. No Greg Kaspar criminal. No Greg Kaspar tug boat captain, pastry chef, politician, minister, teacher, plumber, bus driver...

Finding myself was a fun diversion, now back to work.

Friday, March 25, 2005

Satan in the SUV

You knew it would happen. Yesterday's angelic tale was perfectly balanced by today's events.

Today I saw Satan.

Right now, some of you are conjuring up visions of the the evil one with his red skin, pointed tail and horned head. But he wasn't like that.

Others are are picturing half man, half goat. You can see his hairy goat legs, hear the clop of his cloven hooves and almost smell his pungent animal odor. But he wasn't like that.

Many would anticipate that he would be showing himself in his legendary serpentine guise. But he wasn't like that, either.

Satan, in fact, showed himself to me as what appeared to be a short, perky, thirty-something, mother of two with a pixie haircut. Please don't laugh, this is serious and you may be the next victim visited by this soulless monster.

Most people think that midnight is the devil's hour and the cemetery is the devil's playground. Think again!

Think: I-75, rush hour.

I have seen many demons materialize out of thin air on our highways; innocent people suddenly possessed by the minions of hell. I have seen sweet little ladies transformed into bloodthirsty wolves behind the steering wheels of Cadillacs. I have seen innocent teens in fuel-efficient imports on our city streets smile and reveal the venomous fangs and forked tongues of snakes. I have seen fire and brimstone spewing from the mouths of mild mannered men in Ford pickups and caught brief glimpses of the quiet ones committing unspeakable atrocities in the cocooned, climate-controlled comfort of Germany's best. I have seen a lot. But, today... today can honestly say that I have seen Satan.

So here it was, I-75, rush hour and, as should be expected at rush hour in Florida during tourist season, traffic was barely moving. Well, most of it was barely moving, there was a large dark object visible in my rear view mirror. I watched it slithering from lane to lane. Back and forth. Half in, half out. Insinuating itself into whatever free space it could find. Back and forth, in and out. This large black hole getting ever closer.

You have to know me, I am not an aggressive driver. I drive a Honda Element which is basically a 4-cylinder toy box (with "toy" being the operative word). I am the guy in the right lane doing 55 in a 55. It may sound corny or old-fashioned but I can locate, initiate and terminate turn signals and I know the appropriate times to perform these tasks. I understand the concept of multiple lanes and I try to use each lane for its intended purpose. I can read and comprehend speed limits and, unless natural urges make obeying them a messy proposition, I do adhere to them.

Most of my driving skills were learned in an ancient time. In a time when instructors identified and encouraged the use of both pedals and taught the Two-Second Rule.

The Two-Second Rule helped to easily determine if we were following too closely. It works at any speed and you can try it next time you are driving. Pick an object like a sign or a telephone pole that is a short distance beyond the car in front of you. When the car in front of you passes that object, start counting slowly, one-one-thousand, two-one-thousand. If you arrive at that object before you finish with two one-thousand then you need to back off. It is simple.

The only problem with using this rule is that you cannot do it alone. If you start leaving a two second gap between you and the car in front of you, it is just an open invitation for every hellion on the road to squeeze in in front of you. As soon as someone squeezes in, you have to slow down to widen the gap back to two seconds... which begs someone else to pull in... which means that you have to slow down further...

So, here I am moving with everyone else at 35 mph in a 70 mph zone, watching this cloud of darkness approach from behind. Soon enough it is beside me. Then almost in front of me. Then back alongside of me. Up and back and up and back, head whipping around the whole time, eyes scanning for that opening that will allow her to move ahead one more car length.

Now, you know and I know and even she knows that there is a two second gap in front of me. She sees it and she wants it. I am nothing to her. I am a hindrance. I stand between her and her goal. Her sole mission is to move ahead and she is totally unconcerned if I die in the process. Actually, my demise was beginning to appear to be her sole purpose for being here. I can see her scanning, scanning, her eyes aflame, her head spinning like Regan in the Exorcist.

I have told you that I drive a Honda Element. If you have seen one, it is deceiving. It gives the appearance of being larger than it is because of its shape and height. Don't be fooled, in reality it is no longer than the Honda Civic.

What I haven't told you is that she was driving a Lincoln Navigator. You could have parked five Honda Elements inside of her vehicle and still had room to confortably seat the entire team of Braden River Bobcats, their parents and coaches and still had enough room to bring along all of their equipment. Satan is obviously a little insecure and likes to give the appearance of being larger-than-life. The Navigator was a good choice.

Traffic was not cooperating with the devil. Up she'd rush... then slam on the brakes and slide back... then jam the gas and rush back up... seeing the opening in front... jockeying, trying to reach that opening, head spinning, eyes searching, up and back, up and back... frantic, pushing pedals, pounding the wheel, her blood lust rising...

... it finally became too much for her and, damn the torpedoes (or anyone in her way), she slammed on the gas and jerked the wheel in my direction...

My reactions were immediate and involuntary: I cut my wheel to avoid hitting her and hit the horn to let her know that the bump she was about to feel was in fact another vehicle and the sub-human life form that inhabited it.

Her immediate reaction was not what I had expected. Rather than give that little wave and that oh-did-I-cut-you-off-I'm-terribly-sorry look in the rear view mirror, Satan rolled down her window and flipped me off... the blood-red claw of her middle finger contrasted clearly against the gloss black finish of her massive transport.

As my heartbeat returned to a more normal cadence and I eased back onto the highway, I saw the sun glint off of the Icthus fish symbol on the back of the Navigator. Exceedingly glad to still be alive, I sighed, picked a lamppost just ahead of Satan and somewhere between one-one-thousand and two-one-thousand I just had to wonder, "How would Jesus drive?"

Thursday, March 24, 2005

Pinhead Angels

In the Middle Ages there was much debate about how many angels could stand/dance on the head of a pin. Some research suggests that the actual controversy revolved not around the head of the pin but the point.

I will let you know right now, regardless of which end of the pin we are talking about, I have no idea how many angels can sardine themselves together on that spot. It seems silly to me to even wonder about something like that but I guess that in the Middle Ages there was no Blogger so counting angels worked well as and evening's distraction.

d. and I ran out east for a flight tonight. I called d. on the way out because the cloud cover looked to be rather dark out east. Being closer to the farm, d. assured me that the conditions were better out that way.

When I arrived at the field, d. had the motor out, the windsock up and was checking the wind. Clouds were a little dark and the wind was a little squirrely so we decided to wait a few minutes, there was lots of time before sundown.

When we finally decided that conditions were ok, we started setting up to fly. As usual, d. was quicker. After starting the motor, d. noticed that the prop would stick at certain points and determined that it was in the redrive. Rather than take a chance, d. decided to sit it out.

I felt bad about d. being grounded so I only went up for a few minutes. Just long enough to realize how very wet everything around us is. We are flying off of 16 acres that is surrounded by several hundred acres of 10 to 40 acre homesites. The homesites are surrounded by several thousand acres of farmland. With few exceptions, the homesites around us are all under water.

d. snapped this picture of the sunset, the windsock and me.



The strange weather, the beautiful sunset, the stuck prop, the water everywhere but on our field, all of these things made me wonder if only 6 angels can dance on the head of a pin. If only 6 will fit on the head of that pin then maybe there were 7 angels in the area tonight and, not being able to crowd herself onto the pin with the other angels, one was forced to wander around until one of the six left the pinhead. Rather than soil her pretty white gown in all of the surrounding mud, perhaps the seventh angel came and perched on our dry, green takeoff area. While watching us, maybe this angel realized that something was not quite right with the weather or d.'s setup. Maybe she yelled and yelled as loud as she could but being so tiny, we couldn't hear her. In desperation did she grab d.'s prop and stop it as a way of communicating with us?

Was this the same angel that whispered in our ears that the original field we were looking at (which is now under water) was not the one for us? Were her whispers so subtle that we believed that we had acutally come up with all of the reasons for choosing this parcel over any of the other parcels?

I don't know. But, I do know that if the head of a pin can hold 6 angels then I always want 7 in the area.

Wednesday, March 23, 2005

Today

If you want to know what I did today, head on over to the Yahoo newsgroup and read the latest post.

Basically, I asked if I had the authority to call a club meeting.

I guess that I now have to wait and see...

Tuesday, March 22, 2005

Nostalgia.

Today was absolutely gorgeous... until you stepped outside and just about got blown over.

Another day with no chance of flight.

Rather than sit around and moan about not being able to fly, I put together the agenda for what I hope will be the next Parastars meeting. Whether this meeting will be only for officers and board members or whether it will include an open invitation to all members has not been determined. Actually, whether it will happen at all has not been determined. If I have my way, it will happen and there will be an open invitation to all members.

Some of the important issues that need to be addressed are:
1) what is the state of the club
2) what level of interest and commitment can we expect from officers/board members
3) what actions can be taken to get the club moving again
4) what are the duties of officers and board members
5) what short term goals need to be met to make the club a viable entity again

Taking a break from writing the agenda, I flipped back through some old pictures. Take a look at this one...



If you look really close there are 4 wings laid out getting ready to launch. There is another wing off to the side that was probably being used by a student to ground handle. And if you squint, you can just make out a pilot taking off further down the field.

At the minimum, there were 7 wings in the picture (ok, only 6 in the picture plus the one holding me aloft). Thumbing through the rest of the photos taken that day, I found this one which shows a bit more detail...



There are 13 vehicles lined up at the side of the field. That means that there were a minimum of 13 people at the field that day. It is possible that there were additional vehicles beyond the boundary of the picture.

And, as was often the case, there may have been additional cars parked on the road, their owners lined up at the fence, shielding their eyes from the sun, pointing at the pilots on the ground and raising their heads to follow as these pilots ran down the field and into the air.

We could all sit here being nostalgic and remember the good old days or we could pitch in and create a future that will include days that we can cherish as much as those pictured.

Join me, won't you?

Monday, March 21, 2005

Yucky Days

Before I start, let me tell you that I did look up the word "yucky" and it is listed on dictionary.com as a slang word and, therefore, legal for use in a blog. What got me was the definition which included such words as disgusting, foul, loathsome, repellent, revolting, wicked and, my personal favorite, skanky. I never meant all of those things. Honestly. What I was aiming for was something a little more subtle. Even the word "unpleasant" is a little too strong... the days I am talking about are fine days but, for one reason or another, are not fine for flying.

The dictionary was not helping so I pulled out the big guns: the thesaurus and the dictionary of synonyms and antonyms. After bouncing around a while trying out different words I realized that the english language is sometimes better served by slang terms and the artistic use of punctuation than it is by dictionary definitions and adherence to strict grammatic rules. I leave the title, "Yucky Days", with the understanding that an english major may find it inappropriate.

So, what do you do on days that are rainy, windy or otherwise yucky? Days like today for instance.

One thing that I sometimes do is go back and review past flights in Flight Log. If you haven't gotten a copy, you really should. Flight Log is free, it's small and it is great for keeping logs of all of your flights. You can record the location, duration, altitude, wind direction and speed, the level of turbulence, the wing used, and there's even a section called "Remarks" where you can enter free-form comments. Behind the scenes it is keeping track of how many hours you have flown a particular wing (good information to have if you are going to sell a wing), the number of flights at a particular location and the total number of all flights. Click here to review the features and download the software.

What I find most fun about reviewing entries in Flight Log is reading the Remarks and reliving the early days of learning to fly. Here are some excerpts:

Aug 18, 2001: DC's field - Tow pull
That is the whole entry. It is the first entry and reading it transports me back to DC's and I can relive the entire day. At the time I was positive that I would be learning this sport and was learning as much as possible before committing to lessons and purchasing equipment. I was hanging around the field watching when J. and C. asked if I wanted to do a tow pull. It wasn't until I was 50 feet off the ground that I realized that I had no idea what I was doing!!! What a great first entry.

October 6, 2001: Skyway Bridge (4th flight) - Good launch. Good landing but not standing.
This was my 4th flight... and it was done at the skyway! One tow pull and three earlier flights and I still hadn't landed on my feet. This was the closest... I almost had it but... not quite...

October 13, 2001: DC's Field (5th flight) - Takeoff w/ no forward movement.. All lift.. Quite bumpy.. Dragged a little on hard landing.
What is funny about this entry is that at the time I assumed that I was just a wimp and that I would get used to a few bumps. The entries in wind speeds were: Base=10, Peak=15. The entry for turbulence was 5 out of 6. Given those same conditions now, my turbulence rating would be zero... because now I rate days with winds of 10 to 15 as "yucky" and I don't leave the ground.


October 14, 2001: DC's Field (6th flight) - Perfect takeoff and landing. Standing on landing!!!! First time!!!
Boy, do I remember this flight. If you took me out to DC's I could point to the exact spot where I landed - it was that memorable. Everything had finally clicked.

There are many things that I have learned from reviewing entries in Flight Log.
1) none of my 9 flights at FoF were rated highly (conditions were always poor)
2) most of my flights were at DC's
3) my Altea wing has over 114 hours of flight time on it
4) my longest flight was over 2 hours
5) my best flights were at beach sites

One of the other benefits of Flight Log is that you can keep maintenance records in it (non-flying entries). When was the last time you changed your plug or did other maintenance? It's nice to know.

If you don't have a copy of Flight Log, I strongly suggest that you take the time to download it and keep your flights logged. If it serves no other purpose, it makes yucky days a little more tolerable.

Sunday, March 20, 2005

It's all about flying

At 6am it looked like the skyway was going to be the place. By 7:30 it was evident that the skyway was blown out. With nowhere else to go, d. and I headed out east.

If you hadn't noticed, it has rained a lot around here lately.



With most of the surrounding properties either mostly puddled or completely under water, it was nice to see that the field we use was high and dry.



As I was taking off, I scared a rabbit and watched it run like mad for cover. As it entered the underbrush on the far side of the field, a large deer jumped out of the brush, leaped over the fence, ran across the road and over the fence on the other side then disappeared into the woods.

With 29 flights from this location, this is the first time that I have seen deer; Hawks, alligators, cows and bald eagles but never deer. I would have taken pictures but I was only about 50 feet in the air and hadn't even had time to get into my seat let alone fire up the camera. Without photographic evidence, I guess that you'll just have to take my word for it.


After the morning flight, D. and I took a bike ride to an art show in Lakewood Ranch. The art was pretty good and we actually managed to purchase a glass piece for a friend's birthday. The birthday was months ago and we have been searching but finding nothing (what do you get for someone who has everything...).

On the way back we passed a small pond bordered by homes. In the very top of a tall pine was a crane's nest with a pair of cranes in it. It was exciting to watch the cranes defending their eggs against possible attacks by herons and gulls.



Today, unlike some other days, wherever I pointed the camera there was someone or something flying...


Saturday, March 19, 2005

Making the best of it...

It was 48 degreees outside when I woke up this morning around 6:30. Winds were calm and it seemed that it was going to be a good morning for flying. Stepping out onto the lanai, I realized that 48 degrees is cold - it seemed that it was going to be a good evening for flying.

The biggest problem with flying in cold weather is keeping the hands warm. I have not found a pair of gloves that are warm, comfortable and that allow full control of the throttle, toggles and the kill switch. If you know of something that works well, let me know.

Rather than waste a beautiful morning, D. and I packed up the cameras and headed to Lake Manatee State Park. We had discussed going to the Little Manatee River State Park but the homeowners association had scheduled a vote on the new mailboxes that are being proposed for our neighborhood and, being the critical issue that it is, we didn't want to travel too far from home and possibly miss our opportunity to cast our vote.

The ranger at Lake Manatee told us that the best birding and wildlife opportunities would be down the road at the east entrance because there were several miles of trails and far fewer people. She was right about the number of people but wrong about the photo op.

After walking for miles without seeing anything filmworthy, I figured I make the best of it and started snapping pictures of bees.



A short time later, we tried sneaking up on a yellow shafted flicker (a member of the woodpecker family) but it would have nothing to do with us. Made the best of it and snapped this shot.



During our hike we noticed that there is a dam on the Lake. It is pretty large and we assumed that it might give us a decent vantage point to photograph the wildlife around the lake. We could see no way to reach it from the paths shown on the park map. The "Alligator Alley" trail went up to the lakefront but did not come close to the dam.

The "Road to Nowhere" trail runs close to route 64 and we assumed that it wouldn't be worth the wandering but we figured that we were here, it was here and we would make the best of it and made the trip. It would be nice if I could tell you that it was a great decision and we found lots of truly amazing things to photograph. Instead, the only opportunity I had was to snap a few shots of a hawk from 100 yards away.



None of the shots were as good as the ones taken last weekend at Myakka River State Park. Although we walked less today, it seemed longer. Last weekend the time flew by; today the time seemed to crawl.

So, what does any of this have to do with flying?

It seems to me that we could have spent the first half hour at the park and decided that it wasn't going to be as good as Myakka, gotten back in the car and gone home to vote on mailboxes. Instead, we chose to make the best of it and managed to have an enjoyable morning.

The Parastars may never be the club that it once was but that doesn't mean that we should just sell our motors and sit at home. There are still many enjoyable adventures for the club. Some of these adventures will be better than others; all of them will be worthwhile. As a club, we need to accept where we are and begin making the best of our situation.

Just so that you know: as we left the park and headed for home we passed Dam Rd. Could Dam Rd. get us to the dam and the photo op that we thought would be waiting for us there? We turned the car around and headed back.

From the high fences and razor wire, it was pretty obvious that there was no access to the dam from Dam Rd. There was, however, a u-pick hydroponic strawberry and vegetable farm called 3-D. Fresh strawberries sounded like a great dessert for our as-yet-unplanned dinner, so we stopped. The owner, Ed Donley, provided an entertaining and educational tour of the 2 year old facility. We walked out with several pounds of strawberries that tasted so much sweeter because we now know the farmer and the methods used to grow them. We also know where to go to get reasonably priced, locally grown produce that is water-wise and, although not "organic", methods used to grow them are more environmentally friendly than traditional methods. This was certainly the high point of the day and the cameras were in the car the whole time...

So, again, what does this have to do with flying?

To me, it illustrates how being flexible and open to new experiences pays off. We had started out for a day of photography but ended up learining about hydroponics. The club needs to pick a goal and start moving in that direction. As things progress, other opportunities will present themselves. Some of these opportunities will be unforseen and may prove to be more rewarding than the original intended destination. The trick is to not allow opportunities pass us by. We had already passed it and had to turn around to get back to Dam Rd. and it was damn well worth it.

Friday, March 18, 2005

Green

Yesterday was St. Patrick's Day. I didn't wear green or drink green beer but I did manage to co-host a corned beef and cabbage dinner for eleven. In addition to a number of short, round, red-nosed Irishmen, the 15 pounds of corned beef and large quantities of Baliey's Comets (mix 3 parts Bailey's to 1 part Irish Mist) helped to make the evening most enjoyable.

After cleaning up, I took a trip over to the PPGBigList. I don't go there often but I clicked my way over and started sorting through the latest ration of garbage.

I was not happy (but also not surprised) to read about the situation at P. What this portends for the convention is, thankfully, not a concern for the Parastars.

What I was concerned about was M. using P's predicament to attack J. I do not know M. but was amazed at how twisted his opinions seemed. Did M. stop and read the incredibly long list of things that he was claiming J. was using for his personal gain? Wow, if I could participate in half of those things - let alone be able to actively contribute to all of them - I would be pretty damn impressed with myself.

In the spirit of the holiday, I am green with envy over all of the things that J. does to support this sport. There are few who are capable of the continuous level of commitment that J. has provided. In my opinion, if J. ends up rolling in the green because of his efforts, he has certainly worked hard enough to have earned it.

Top o' the mornin' to ya.

Wednesday, March 16, 2005

PPG?

At 47, I am no longer considered young. Not quite dead but not young, either.

I altered my profile on blogger to include "PPG" as one of my interests. I also included "powered paragliding" and "paramotor". I was reasonably sure that I was indicating to the world that I am interested in the sport of paragliding using a motor...

... now, I am not so sure.

For those unfamiliar, blogger indexes and cross references interests (and just about everything else) so that you can view your profile and by clicking on your interests you can see all the other people who share your interests. It's a great concept, fast and totally automatic.

So, I add "PPG" to my list of interests and click on it. Instead of finding a list of paramotor pilots, I find a list of young adults. What you and I know as PPG is not what the under 18 crowd knows as PPG. I haven't figured out (or had the nerve to ask anyone) what their PPG is all about. Honestly, I'm almost afraid to find out. I am afraid that at 47 I have actually become an old man and that somehow, while I wasn't listening, someone changed the language.

I remember using the word "cool". I knew when and how to use it. Somewhere in the development of juvenile idiom, "hot" replaced "cool". I had no problems making this transition. When "bad" meant good it was not a problem because I was bad, that was cool; I knew what was hot.

The whole "valley girl" dialect was understood but like totally ignored by me. What follwed was ... well... I don't know. While these slang-uages were being developed, I was head down over a keyboard coding in five different computer languages and wasn't paying attention. There were two whole generations of teens between then and now and I have no idea what they are saying.

I remember a dinner table conversation while I was growing up that went something like this:

Mom (casually): "Did you hear John Bonham died?"
Dad (mildly inquisitive but not interrupting his dinner): "No, who's John Bonham?"
Mom (again, casually, as if this should be common knowledge): "Led Zeppelin."
Dad (fork has stopped moving): "Did it crash?" (fork moves to the plate again then pauses) "I thought they stopped using those things years ago; weren't safe." (Uses the heel of the fork for emphasis) "I remember the Hindenburg, happened right here in New Jersey. Lakehurst."
Mom: "No, he was the drummer with the rock group Led Zeppelin"
Dad: "Hmm, guess he decided to join the Grateful Dead." (fork back in full swing).

At the time I wondered how my father could be so far out of touch and was almost afraid of how much my mother seemed to know. Had they been speaking of Roger Whittaker or Roger Miller, I probably wouldn't have noticed. Hearing my parents discussing Led Zeppelin was scary.

What scares me now is that I have identified myself as a member of the PPG community and there are thousands of teens out there who are wondering what a 47 year old can possibly know about PPG. The truth is that this 47 year old knows nothing about PPG, nothing at all.

Tuesday, March 15, 2005

Did I really go there?

Did I really go there?

Let me look... hmmm...

Yup, I did. I went there and you didn't even notice.

Being the kind writer that I am, I will tell you that if you want to go there too, all you have to do is review the last sentence in my last post. Actually, you don't even need to bother with the last sentence, you can just read the last 6 words...

"... the creation of a new club."

Creation. It has such a powerful sound to it. Creation! Creation!! Creation!!!

Let's face it, the stars are just about dead. In physics, the theory of momentum states that a body in motion will stay in motion until acted upon by other forces. In the case of the Parastars, those other forces were small but significant enough to bring the club to a catatonic halt.

Fear was probably the biggest disruption to the momentum of the club. Fear of personal liability sidetracked the last two conventions. Because of changes in insurance coverage, officers found that they were personally liable for the actions of the club. As bad as it was to accept responsibility for club members, who you at least knew and flew with from time to time, officers were now responsible for visiting pilots (whose piloting skills were unknown). It helped somewhat that each pilot was asked to sign a waiver but what about guests and spectators? Officers were suddenly personally responsible for each and every person who showed up at the convention. It was too much to ask for from a bunch of volunteers whose only goal was to be good hosts.

The other force that bled forward momentum from the club was the conventions themselves. Conventions were like espresso, they provided a short burst of phrenetic energy but when that was gone, the club was so exhausted that it took a year to recover. Conventions provided so much to so many; they were excellent for visiting pilots, great for vendors, good for the sport but, ultimately, very bad for the club. The conventions drained precious energy from the club and, as a result, basic club functions were ignored. The conventions caused a big rift in the club: some saw great value in conventions ability to make money for the club while others saw the conventions, and the money they raised, as worthless. The club was torn by inusurance issues and eventually torn apart by the conventions.

So, here we sit with a club with lots of money but nothing of value. If the club had used its momentum and money to purchase a field, the conventions would have had a lasting purpose. If the club had used its momentum and money to locate and secure inurance for PPG pilots and clubs, the conventions would have had a lasting purpose. If the club had used its momentum and money to ingratiate itself with the local community, the conventions would have had a lasting purpose.

OK, maybe I am being a bit unfair; the club was very generous to members of our community who were in need and the club enthusiastically supported efforts to improve the safety of the sport wherever possible. It is not my intention to in any way detract from these accomplishments.

What additional accomplishments could the club have achieved if we had had something as simple as a clear and concise mission statement? For years, many have worked hard for the club but the club has not succeeded because there was no clear goal established when the club was created. In my opinion, it is time to create a club that is clear in its mission. Creation of this club can take one of two forms:

1) reconstruction the Parastars
2) the creation of a new club

If the Parastars are unable to respond to requests for information and are content to continue without a President or other board members then I believe that the first option is not really an option at all. In this case, I suggest that the club file for Nonprofit Dissolution, refund whatever is left in the bank to the members and be done with it.

If, however, there is some momentum left in the club then I suggest that people start speaking up. The club needs to provide direction for itself and undertake only things which support its stated purpose. I am willing to accept that the club may not agree with the directions that I would set but I am unwilling to accept stagnation because people are unwilling to state their beliefs.

At this point, starting a new club seems easier than trying to jumpstart the old one but I am willing to work with the Parastars to see what can be done.

Monday, March 14, 2005

Parks: the final rant

Parks, whether city, county or state, are owned by us. Think abouth this. You pay for the creation and maintenance of these public spaces the same way that you pay for and maintain your home or your car. They belong to each of us and should serve the needs of everyone in the community. Isn't democracy wonderful?

PPG's do not fit with the whole image of public parks. PPG's do not promote the peace and quiet we typically associate with parks nor do PPG's enhance the environment or improve the natural habitat for local wildlife. But then again, have you been to a public park lately? In my view, parents screaming at toddlers and at each other is not all that relaxing and forty foot motorhomes are not perfect examples of eco-friendly Florida naturalism. But this isn't about us and them and who is worse, it's about fair use of public spaces.

SInce I am already off on a slight tangent, humor me (and yourself) and keep reading. D. and I were flying from the beach one evening. Being more efficient, D. was up and away before I finished setting up. As I was hooking in, a rather irate man came up and started yelling that we were destroying the peace and quiet of the beach and that he was going to go home and get his wrist-rocket and shoot at us. I calmly explained that we would be out of earshot in less than one minute and there was no need for him to bother himself by going all the way home to get his sling-shot.

The flight was great. When we landed, our irate friend was not on the beach... he was in the park... screaming at his girlfriend. And I am not talking screaming, I am talking SCREAMING!!! Though you might find his poetic use of the English language entertaining, I am not sure that the blogspot is an appropriate place to publish these witticisms. I am not even sure if a bathroom wall is the appropriate place to publish what this man was going on about.

From the look on his girlfriend's face, this was nothing new. She just sat there sipping her beer and filing her nails. I don't think that she even bothered to look up once during his whole tirade. If I am ever on a runaway train, or a sinking ship or a crashing plane, this is the chick that I want sitting next to me.

I have no idea how long this went on. From the time we landed until the time we left, all anyone heard was this guy ranting. I don't even know what he was yelling about, it was just a non-stop string of colorful expletives. And somehow, we were the ones destroying the peace and quiet...

Tangent terminated.

I am not trying to change the world here, I am just trying to coexist. It would be nice if we could get to use each of our parks for one weekend out of every year. To me, this doesn't seem like too much to ask for. Heck, I am not even remotely suggesting that we be granted use while our northern friends are visiting.

The rules of basic physics state that a chilled northerner always sinks southward and a warm northener always rises northward. This is a natural law and cannot be changed. Now that we understand the scientific facts surrounding expansion and contraction of the local population caused by the heating and cooling of the atmosphere, we can schedule our use of our parks before our guests arrive in the winter and after they return home in the spring.

What I am searching for here is the "schtick". What do we need to do to get the first park open for our use? I am not talking about sneaking in bandito flights while no one is looking, I am talking about reserving use of the park for the purpose of PPG - kinda like the Johnsons do for their family reunion every year, or the cub scouts do for their annual club-a-cub extravaganza (pretty obvious that I was never a cubby and that I have no kids, huh?).

So, what is it that we use as our ticket into the park system? Just being a taxpayer is not enough. We have tried the community service angle without success. What is it? What are we missing? Or, am I still doing the rat thing, running as hard as I can and getting absolutely nowhere?



By the way, I visited Oscar Scherer and Stump Pass this weekend. Great photo op at Oscar: the scrub jays are better subjects than most models. Stump Pass was a little tough to take for any length of time. Because of the red tide the beach was pretty empty and those that were there were sneezing, coughing and complaining. I didn't stay too long. With the right conditions, the park is flyable (the south end at low tide looks to be very promising but it would be a walk with the equipment).

Two places that still intrigue me for PPG are Fort Desoto and Egmont Key. I do believe that both can be arranged but it will take the club to get together long enough to make it happen (or, possibly, the creation of a new club).

Sunday, March 13, 2005

State Parks

Anyone who has heard me step up on my soap box knows that I am a strong proponent of saving what few flying sites remain in our area. If the closing of a site were an isolated event it would not be as big a deal. The problem with closing one site is the ripple effect: residents at one site complain that we are too dangerous or too noisy and that site gets closed. Then, by association, the next site gets closed to us - not because of any issue but because there may be a problem in the future. The first site sets the precedent and others follow.

Several pilots have tried to get involved in community support activities that can show our sport in a positive and productive light. One evening after flying at a beach site D. and I landed amidst police, fire and rescue personnel. Turns out there was a report of a boater adrift but the person reporting the incident didn't provide detailed information. Rescue personnel were trying to locate the boat from shore. After speaking with the police, we offered our services and pointed out that we could easily climb to an altitude that would allow us to see for several miles. We could then radio down and give people on the ground some idea of where boats were and if any appeared to be adrift.

Instead of taking us up on our offer, the policewoman we were speaking to stated that they had the situation under control - she allueded to the fact that most calls regarding boaters in trouble were made by "older folks in condos" and were not reliable - besides, we were not allowed to fly from the park and it would be best if we left her alone to do her job.

We have also offered our help to: Mote Marine (to do whatever they might need: monitor red tide, spot manatee, track marine migrations, whatever), Hurricane Relief, Search and Rescue, County Parks and Recreation (Lifeguards).

So much for community involvement.

All of this is just a lead-in to what I really wanted to talk about: state parks.

Wouldn't it be great to fly at all of the more than 150 Florida State Parks? OK, it is totally impractical to believe that we could safely take off and land in all State Parks but wouldn't it be great to be able to fly - just once - from all of those that could safely accomodate PPG's?

My belief is that we paid for these parks and although we don't want them destroyed by allowing dangerous, noisy PPG's in them all of the time, we would like to have an agreement that allows us to schedule one day at each of the parks for a limited number of pilots (Florida residents certified as capable PPG pilots) to use the park to enjoy our sport. It sounds fair to me but we all know that it will not be easy to make this happen. All it takes is one complaint or one incident and it's all over. On the other hand, if we behave and find ways to assist the parks and the local communities (fundraising maybe?), I believe that we have a shot at being invited to community events and, more importantly, to be invited to use public land.

In "Myakka: a prelude to state parks" I wrote about the Myakka River State Park. It's a great place but totally unflyable. It is mostly under water and what land is available is covered with palmetto, palm, oak and pine. This is fine because of the 34 state parks in the southwest region that I live in, 10 are beach sites. Today, I am headed out to another state park. Who knows, maybe by just hanging around on unflyable days an opportuinty will present itself.

Saturday, March 12, 2005

Myakka: A prelude to state parks

Weather predictions were for another blown out day. Other than the unfavorable winds, the day was expected to be gorgeous.

Rather than waste the day indoors, D. and I decided to head to Myakka River State Park for a few hours of birdography. We packed the Canons into the Deville and headed out.

Birding with at camera is always a hit and miss proposition. If we emerge with one decent shot after a full day of shooting, I consider it a good day.

We arrived at the park a little later than we normally would because I was doing the "should I fly or shouldn't I fly?" shuffle all morning and wasn't confortable with my decision until after 8:30. This turned out to be ok because at our first stop, the birdwalk, we were treated to a 20 minute display of how a heron catches and consumes a tilapia that looks too large for it to swallow.



It was a great photo opportunity and the volunteer ranger, B., made it educational as well.

From there, we headed to the powerline road and had the opportunity to photograph alligators (a nest of 6 babies under a foot long and, a short distance away, the mother at over 12 feet long), an anhinga eating its mid morning snack, some wild iris, egrets, an osprey nest (have some decent shots of the male bringing fish back to the nest) and a nest of bald eagles with chicks.

And this was all before lunch!!! I must say that watching all of those fish being consumed kinda set the stage for a grouper sandwich. The only problem was that we were having too much fun and decided to eat at the concession stand in the park which doesn't serve grouper sandwiches. We ate what they served and headed to my favorite part of the park, the canopy walk. If you have never been to the top of the 74 foot tower, it is worth the trip. I even suggest splurging and paying the 25 cents for 2 minutes use of the telescope. They have a plaque with a list of things to view, their location and distance from the tower. Heck, it's worth the quarter.


There was not much to photograph from the top but on the way back we were able to photograph a yellow rat snake as it made its way up an oak tree.



From there we wandered through the gates marked "Meadow Sweet Prarie" and down the quiet pathway. Nothing to photograph but a nice respite from the kids at the canopy walk.

We ended the day back at the birdwalk where a warbler was nice enough to pose for a few minutes.



Although no flying occurred, the day was really great: low-key, low-noise, low-stress.

Oh, so what does any of this have to do with flying? Stick around... there is more...

Friday, March 11, 2005

The race: how to be a rat in two easy lessons

Well, it was almost "off to the races". But like a good little rat, I was just running in the big wheel, exhausting myself without making any headway.

We had been working with the great people at Desoto Super Speedway and Bradenton Motorsports on the use of their fields for club activities...

... follow my logic here...

... most people think flying is dangerous - the same way that most people think that racing is dangerous...

... some people are bothered by the sounds of motorsports - the same way that some people are bothered by the sounds of aviation...

... based on the perceived danger, insurance must be hard to get for racing - the same way that insurance is hard to get for flying...

... landowners must be somewhat sure of the legal applicability of waivers signed by motorsports drivers when operating at their facilities - the same way that we had hoped to use waivers to indemnify these same landowners.

To me, the similarities are obvious and there is a strong potential for mutual support. The only other group that would seem more compatible would be fellow aviators but the problem with trying to share facilities with winged counterparts is that we just move too slowly and could be a danger to each other. Even PPC's pose a serious problem when sharing the same facilities.

Long story short, it didn't work out at either place. We continue to look but it seems like we are running out of decent options. I'm not sure that there are even any indecent ones available, either.

One other thing that we were trying to get going was a weekend at Fort Desoto with camping, flying and a pig roast. This would have been a Parastars only event - a way to get club members together without distractions. The problem here is that the park requires event insurance and the club is not in a state where it can provide this. Yes, we have the EAA event insurance but we don't have a president or a treasurer or a secretary. To be able to hold an event like this we would need to verify that all club members are current EAA members. This was a function that we did every year when renewing our EAA chapter but it fell through the cracks this year.

So the question remains:
Would I be more of a rat to stop trying to support the Parastars, start a smaller EAA chapter (for insurance purposes) and get into parks and places of interest as a smaller group or should I continue to expend time and energy on a club that, on the surface, does not appear to care about staying together?

Thursday, March 10, 2005

To fly or not to fly...

D. emailed before I left work asking about flying this evening from 7 Flags. To date, only C., D., J. and I have flown from this location. Like most, the landowners do not want the liability or nuisance of having too many pilots flying from this site. Anyway, here's a picture of 7 Flags Farm that was taken last year. The circle in the center of the picture (to the left of the chicken-drumstick shaped wetland) is now an almost 2 acre raised takeoff / landing area.

.

Looked too windy at 4pm (and I had an appointment to take the PPG transport in for an oil change - another case of reality getting in the way of things). All in all, it worked out because even at 7pm it still didn't appear to be calm enough for good flight.

The weekend is looking blown out but we will keep watch.

Last time we were out at the farm, I got airborn before D. arrived, got bumped around for 20 minutes and landed as D. was setting up. I told her about the less than favorable conditions and we decided to wait for a while before going up.

Living in FL, we are both a bit spoiled. We seem to have enough days with smooth, calm air so that we don't bother trying to squeeze in flights when conditions aren't great.

We talked for a while; same old things: food, yoga, flying, where we would be having dinner. Things seemed to be settling down, D. decided to be the wind dummy this time. Setting up proved a little frustrating because the wind was shifting (should have told us something, huh?). After a couple of minutes, D. radioed that she would be landing, it was not fun aloft.

Earthbound, we wait for conditions that favor the spreading of wings and rising toward the heavens.

Wednesday, March 09, 2005

Green Fields

The only time it's OK for the club to be without a field is on days like today. For future reference, today is gray, rainy and about 50 degrees. Reminds me of New Jersey. M, the Canadian in the office, actually opened his window blinds today - he usually keeps them closed because it's "too sunny".

There are 9 mowed acres outside of my second-story office window. Because it is in restricted airspace, it is not a flyable site although, I sometimes use it to practice ground-handling.

Ground-handling... does anyone do ground-handling anymore? Sure, we all did lots of it when we were learning but now that we can fly, who bothers to practice on the ground anymore? Funny thing is that when we had a field, everyone did a lot more ground-handling. Why? Mostly because it was fun and because we were helping to train new pilots. Sometimes, after making the drive to the field and finding it blown out, you just couldn't get back in the car and go home without doing something flying related... like talking about your first, last or next flying adventure or breaking out the wing for some ground-handling.

Sure, we flew a lot more when we had a field but we also ground-handled more. We talked more, planned more, innovated more, told stories more, agreed, disagreed, shared and just got together more.


So, even though there were no planned club activities, today I can blame it on the weather.

Tuesday, March 08, 2005

Parastars: taking off

So, here it is, March 8, 2005... posts have been virtually ignored on the Yahoo Group (is it OK to even mention Yahoo here?) and I don't know what to do for the group...

For those just tuning in (since this is a first post, that would be everyone), the Parastars are a group of PPG pilots in central Forida. For years the club was the preeminent PPG club in North America hosting one of the world's largest annual PPG conventions.

Lately, things have not been so good. The primary reason for the loss of momentum within the club has been the loss of the club's flying field. For many years we were fortunate to have a local landowner allow us to use his field rent-free. We were able to fly there any time we wanted. We could bring guests and, most important, we could train new pilots at that site.

One day, the landowner asked about insurance and we dutifully ran off in search of an acceptable policy. We were large enough and financially viable enough to provide insurance... or were we?

Turns out that the EAA insurance we though we had was only good for "events" and didn't cover flight operations. That being worthless, we went in search of something that could provide coverage for the landowner. There was (and continues to be) no insurance available for PPG.

There was talk about the USPPA combining forces with the USHGA and allowing powered pilots to be insured through the same channels as non-powered pilots but this seems like more of a dream than an eventuality.

Because of concerns of liability within the club, the convention will be hosted this year by Paralite. There are some who think that vendor-hosted conventions are inevitable and the way to do things. Others feel that having a vendor host the convention will only deter the participation of other vendors. This year's convention will tell.

So, here we sit (when we should be flying) without insurance, without a field and without input from members.

Sounds pretty bleak until you realize that members still have lots of enthusiasm
for the sport and for the club. We just need a catalyst to bring the club to the next phase of its evolution (insurance and a field would be nice catalysts but these seem remote at this time).