Prologue
It's late March. The Dublin Gliding Club are facing a week of being locked out of their airfield in July when the Oxegen music festival takes over next door. It can't happen! The Dublin club will not be stopped! Kevin somehow convinces Birr airfield to host them for the week of the 10-19th July, and decides that a bit of cross-community is in order, inviting the Ulster Gliding club along too. Owen and Gary, (the brutes) are instantly excited at the prospect of a new soaring area and new female specimens, and set to on convincing others to join them. Camping, gliding, a beverage or two, what could be better?! A problem is quickly identified in the lack of showering facilities, but this doesn't stop the Queen's club inviting themselves, and eight foolish students sign up speedily, led on by David Lisk. Jay, Bob and Rick also get roped into proceedings, and being slightly more hygiene-conscious, arrange to bring a caravan complete with a shower down with them. Organisation is complete at the Northern end of things- what will the Dubliners have in store for us?
Day 1- Saturday 11 July
Jay and Bob leave Bellarena first, before 9am on Friday.
Come Saturday, the mission is truly underway. Rick pops down to Bellarena at 10am, and seeing that the Queen's K-13 is not yet de-rigged he promptly heads off, neglecting to help. By 4pm, the K-13 is padded out on the trailer (where oh where is David Lisk?), and Gary leads the convoy of DG-100, K-13 and discus. After half a mile Gary turns onto a road where the wing mirrors hit a hedge on both sides, and Owen neglects to follow. After Gary shoots off at his usual pace, the convoy collapses.
Meanwhile, David Lisk is blissfully making the journey down from Belfast, stress free and with a full car of happy passengers, although without the use of his rear view mirror due to some over-packing, including a 1000W amplifier.
6.30pm, Jay calls Tim. 35 knot gusts are whizzing through Birr airfield, and tents aren't holding down. The K-13 could be in dire danger! 'Pull over!' he advises. 'Bed down! Shelter!' It should be noted at this point that Tim has full use of both arms, changing gear like seasoned pro. The convoy agree to regroup in Cavan and get some food while the storm passes. Owen and Tim meet on a layby outside Cavan, but where is the Brute?! In Cavan, we hear, eating alone. Owen observes the weather, and decides 'ahh it'll be grand. Let's get on to Athlone.'
In Birr, the tents are being erected. David Lisk's 6 man tent proves a challenge in the 35 knot gusts, and appropriately the tent takes 6 men to put up.
Through heavy rain, they make it to Athone, and with a call from the heavens in the form of two golden arches, the discus and K-13 crews stop in McDonalds for some well-deserved fodder. A big mac and cheese quarter pounder later, In walks the brute! Somehow we were ahead and he had spotted the trailers. Owen popped into the toilet for a whizz, but 20 minutes later, there is still no sign! After some discussion, the brute decides to go and check. He is alive! Another 10 and we are back on the road. A three-man convoy upsets all the traffic in Offaly on the final 42km leg, but finally we are there! Sweet Birr!
It's blowing a gale, but luckily the tents are up. It must be time for some stella! The flying is looking doubtful for tomorrow, but Owen optimism kicks in and we are all in bed by 2.30, setting the bar for the week to come.
Come Saturday, the mission is truly underway. Rick pops down to Bellarena at 10am, and seeing that the Queen's K-13 is not yet de-rigged he promptly heads off, neglecting to help. By 4pm, the K-13 is padded out on the trailer (where oh where is David Lisk?), and Gary leads the convoy of DG-100, K-13 and discus. After half a mile Gary turns onto a road where the wing mirrors hit a hedge on both sides, and Owen neglects to follow. After Gary shoots off at his usual pace, the convoy collapses.
Meanwhile, David Lisk is blissfully making the journey down from Belfast, stress free and with a full car of happy passengers, although without the use of his rear view mirror due to some over-packing, including a 1000W amplifier.
6.30pm, Jay calls Tim. 35 knot gusts are whizzing through Birr airfield, and tents aren't holding down. The K-13 could be in dire danger! 'Pull over!' he advises. 'Bed down! Shelter!' It should be noted at this point that Tim has full use of both arms, changing gear like seasoned pro. The convoy agree to regroup in Cavan and get some food while the storm passes. Owen and Tim meet on a layby outside Cavan, but where is the Brute?! In Cavan, we hear, eating alone. Owen observes the weather, and decides 'ahh it'll be grand. Let's get on to Athlone.'
In Birr, the tents are being erected. David Lisk's 6 man tent proves a challenge in the 35 knot gusts, and appropriately the tent takes 6 men to put up.
Through heavy rain, they make it to Athone, and with a call from the heavens in the form of two golden arches, the discus and K-13 crews stop in McDonalds for some well-deserved fodder. A big mac and cheese quarter pounder later, In walks the brute! Somehow we were ahead and he had spotted the trailers. Owen popped into the toilet for a whizz, but 20 minutes later, there is still no sign! After some discussion, the brute decides to go and check. He is alive! Another 10 and we are back on the road. A three-man convoy upsets all the traffic in Offaly on the final 42km leg, but finally we are there! Sweet Birr!
It's blowing a gale, but luckily the tents are up. It must be time for some stella! The flying is looking doubtful for tomorrow, but Owen optimism kicks in and we are all in bed by 2.30, setting the bar for the week to come.
Day 2- Sunday 12 July
Having arrived in the dark on Saturday night, nobody knows whether the K-13 is even in one piece. An epic rigging is on the agenda! Owen hopes his six-month restoration was not all in vain. Will it ever fly again?!
Daybreak! Jay has obviously taken well to the outdoors, and his camping chairs are already in use, even in high winds and rain! Breakfast is served. No sign of a briefing though.
Everyone realises by lunchtime that they are to be putting on a lot of weight over the week, as eating is about the only thing to do in Birr on a rainy day (don't drink too much tea though- the toilets aren't so appealing!) A briefing begins! We all learn about the Irish 2000' launch method, which means strictly releasing before the 1900 mark. No free climbing turns for us!
And what is this! A break in the rain. A vicious crosswind laughs in our faces. The rigging begins. 'Yellow K-13' (as she is to be known) comes off her trailer, apparently in four pieces (the desired number), but what is this? A chunk out of the tailplane? A dent in the trim? Wear on the starboard wing?! The K-13 is surely doomed! Inspector Anderson comes to the rescue and with some small temporary fixes declares her airworthy. She shall fly again (maybe)! Experts Duncan and Barsby rebuild the yellow bird with rigging precision, and all the pins look to be in the right places.
But... Who will take the plunge?! Nobody steps forward to launch in the dubious yellow 13. Until... Up she steps. After several DIs, Amy bravely sacrifices herself, and with Jay takes a strict 1900' launch. 26 anxious minutes pass on the ground, but there is that blessed call. 'yellow k13, downwind right'! All is well!
The day seems to be going well. But night has not yet struck! The Ulster Gliding Club come to terms with logging without the use of a medieval laptop. These Dublin folk are still using pen and paper! Nine launches on, and with nobody topping Amy's 26 minutes, it's time for the gliders to get away into the hangar. Everyone's check flights are done, and no airfield cones are destroyed as yet. In comes Seamus Cashin! 'They mine silver over there!' he tells us, pointing toward the looming 'Keeper' mountain.
'Did you hear about the helicopter?' he continues. Looking upward at the extravagant hydrolic powered raising hangar doors, we imagine the worst. And that's where it goes. 'de feckin' chopper hit the 'feckin' doors!'*
*We're not sure of the authenticity of this story.
Night falls. Tim is cooking a chilli con carne to feed the 5000, and with the tuggie retiring home as the crosswind defeats him Abi realises there is no hope of a flight and begins to concoct her student special, the bin of punch. The Dubliners retreat, leaving the rowdy northerners (and the apparently T-total Tom Deane, who took a swift liking to the punch!) to terrorise the residents of Birr. The amp is heaved into the clubhouse. DJ McLaughlin starts his set, but with boooooooooooooos from the audience he soon makes way for the headline act, Dangerous Dave, who effectively counts down the minutes to his entrance. The party is immense! German industrial metal is the favoured sound of the evening, and Dangerous Dave soon has people tapping their feet and doing a dance. But! Midnight strikes, and Sundays joy is over.
Standing on a chair to see over the crowd of fans mobbing dangerous Dave, Tim’s rhythmic drumming on the ceiling - and his joy at being momentarily 23 again - both come to an abrupt end as he falls through the base of the chair and then pivots onto the ground. Owen laughs so hard that he manages to fall over as well, and steals some of Tim's glory. Tim's pain doesn't die off, however, and resident Dr. Gary McLaughlin offers his opinion: 'it's dislocated, for sure! Let me crack it back into place!' Tim squirms at the thought, and Jay offers a sling. Owen, chief technical officer, recognised the need for some pain relief and offered his best shoulder massage, which Tim confessed was extremely comforting, but he was still keen to receive proper medical attention. Conveniently placed on the Ormond Flying Club notice board was the phone number for Tullamore Hospital! David Lisk gets on the case and begins the recovery operation. They don't offer an ambulance for non-999 calls, we are told! What to do?! We look around. The punch bin is empty and none of us can drive. A taxi is called, and is up the Bellarena-standard lane in minutes. It's 1.30am, and our taxi driver is not as expected! It's a she, and Gary swiftly takes a shine. 'You're not bad looking, I'm alone in my 2 man tent you know!' he propositions. 'Air bed. Luxurious.' She somehow restrains herself, seeing Tim in obvious pain, and Abi drunkenly volunteers to accompany Tim to the hospital. Several hours and one x-ray later, Tim's arm is officially u/s. Resigned to an overnight stay and high on morphine, Tim first offers his son William in marriage to Abi, then sends her off home in another taxi. Seeing more of Co. Offaly than she intended, Abi arrived home in daybreak, and crawls into bed oblivious to the excitement she has missed.
For the brutes had been on adventure! Heading off down the lane into the deep unknown, superstition sets in! The brutes sensed the ghost of Offaly, freed recently from the Keeper mountain silver mines, and sprinted the 2.5km into Birr. Upon reaching Birr nightclub, however, they found that time was up! Scorned by the bouncers for supposing they would be allowed in at 1.30am, they trudged back to the airfield, dejected. Retiring to their tents, sorry and alone, the brutes wondered what might be in store for Monday.
Daybreak! Jay has obviously taken well to the outdoors, and his camping chairs are already in use, even in high winds and rain! Breakfast is served. No sign of a briefing though.
Everyone realises by lunchtime that they are to be putting on a lot of weight over the week, as eating is about the only thing to do in Birr on a rainy day (don't drink too much tea though- the toilets aren't so appealing!) A briefing begins! We all learn about the Irish 2000' launch method, which means strictly releasing before the 1900 mark. No free climbing turns for us!
And what is this! A break in the rain. A vicious crosswind laughs in our faces. The rigging begins. 'Yellow K-13' (as she is to be known) comes off her trailer, apparently in four pieces (the desired number), but what is this? A chunk out of the tailplane? A dent in the trim? Wear on the starboard wing?! The K-13 is surely doomed! Inspector Anderson comes to the rescue and with some small temporary fixes declares her airworthy. She shall fly again (maybe)! Experts Duncan and Barsby rebuild the yellow bird with rigging precision, and all the pins look to be in the right places.
But... Who will take the plunge?! Nobody steps forward to launch in the dubious yellow 13. Until... Up she steps. After several DIs, Amy bravely sacrifices herself, and with Jay takes a strict 1900' launch. 26 anxious minutes pass on the ground, but there is that blessed call. 'yellow k13, downwind right'! All is well!
The day seems to be going well. But night has not yet struck! The Ulster Gliding Club come to terms with logging without the use of a medieval laptop. These Dublin folk are still using pen and paper! Nine launches on, and with nobody topping Amy's 26 minutes, it's time for the gliders to get away into the hangar. Everyone's check flights are done, and no airfield cones are destroyed as yet. In comes Seamus Cashin! 'They mine silver over there!' he tells us, pointing toward the looming 'Keeper' mountain.
'Did you hear about the helicopter?' he continues. Looking upward at the extravagant hydrolic powered raising hangar doors, we imagine the worst. And that's where it goes. 'de feckin' chopper hit the 'feckin' doors!'*
*We're not sure of the authenticity of this story.
Night falls. Tim is cooking a chilli con carne to feed the 5000, and with the tuggie retiring home as the crosswind defeats him Abi realises there is no hope of a flight and begins to concoct her student special, the bin of punch. The Dubliners retreat, leaving the rowdy northerners (and the apparently T-total Tom Deane, who took a swift liking to the punch!) to terrorise the residents of Birr. The amp is heaved into the clubhouse. DJ McLaughlin starts his set, but with boooooooooooooos from the audience he soon makes way for the headline act, Dangerous Dave, who effectively counts down the minutes to his entrance. The party is immense! German industrial metal is the favoured sound of the evening, and Dangerous Dave soon has people tapping their feet and doing a dance. But! Midnight strikes, and Sundays joy is over.
Standing on a chair to see over the crowd of fans mobbing dangerous Dave, Tim’s rhythmic drumming on the ceiling - and his joy at being momentarily 23 again - both come to an abrupt end as he falls through the base of the chair and then pivots onto the ground. Owen laughs so hard that he manages to fall over as well, and steals some of Tim's glory. Tim's pain doesn't die off, however, and resident Dr. Gary McLaughlin offers his opinion: 'it's dislocated, for sure! Let me crack it back into place!' Tim squirms at the thought, and Jay offers a sling. Owen, chief technical officer, recognised the need for some pain relief and offered his best shoulder massage, which Tim confessed was extremely comforting, but he was still keen to receive proper medical attention. Conveniently placed on the Ormond Flying Club notice board was the phone number for Tullamore Hospital! David Lisk gets on the case and begins the recovery operation. They don't offer an ambulance for non-999 calls, we are told! What to do?! We look around. The punch bin is empty and none of us can drive. A taxi is called, and is up the Bellarena-standard lane in minutes. It's 1.30am, and our taxi driver is not as expected! It's a she, and Gary swiftly takes a shine. 'You're not bad looking, I'm alone in my 2 man tent you know!' he propositions. 'Air bed. Luxurious.' She somehow restrains herself, seeing Tim in obvious pain, and Abi drunkenly volunteers to accompany Tim to the hospital. Several hours and one x-ray later, Tim's arm is officially u/s. Resigned to an overnight stay and high on morphine, Tim first offers his son William in marriage to Abi, then sends her off home in another taxi. Seeing more of Co. Offaly than she intended, Abi arrived home in daybreak, and crawls into bed oblivious to the excitement she has missed.
For the brutes had been on adventure! Heading off down the lane into the deep unknown, superstition sets in! The brutes sensed the ghost of Offaly, freed recently from the Keeper mountain silver mines, and sprinted the 2.5km into Birr. Upon reaching Birr nightclub, however, they found that time was up! Scorned by the bouncers for supposing they would be allowed in at 1.30am, they trudged back to the airfield, dejected. Retiring to their tents, sorry and alone, the brutes wondered what might be in store for Monday.
Day 4- Tuesday 14 July
Quiet day! Everyone rigs but only student flying. Nothing much to report, the highlight of the day being Kevin Houlihan caught on camera hitting a runway cone. He announces later that this was the task for the day and awards himself 1000 points.
Day 5- Wednesday 15 July. Landout Day.
It's 8am. Abi's alarm goes off. It signals the start of the first declared task of the day. Task week co-ordinator Kevin Houlihan has proposed a stealthy repositioning of Gary's DG100, and Abi meets David and Rick outside to commence the mission. The original plan entails pushing the glider to the opposite end of the runway, but after 30m the boys are wearing. The hangar is conveniently open (thanks Jay!), and David pushes the retrieve quad out to the glider to minimise noise levels and avoid waking the brute (not that this was to be a problem... he'd sleep through a nuclear attack). We return to Jay's al fresco breakfast bar, and wait with bated breath for Gary to emerge and start panicking about his lost baby. No such luck! The brute gets up, gets dressed, has a wander, then drives off, without saying a word. The Dubliners arrive, and Kevin nods approval at the completion of the task. The brute returns, but still, nothing! Post-briefing, Owen exits to dry the dew off the Discus' wings, and with an Oscar-worthy performance comments casually to Gary, 'where's your glider Brute?!' The brute looks up at the empty space that his glider once occupied, and Owen is right, there's no sign! Gary shows little concern, asking Owen if he's seen his sunglasses or his camera, and retiring to his tent. The first retrieve of the day is on the cards, when Gary eventually monitors away at the field and finds the 100 and brings her back to the launch point. The real task is to begin! Durrow-Thurles-Birr, 120km.
Rick is the first off the grid, with a 1500' launch into a steady 1.5 up. Stuart, Gary, Owen, Jay, Kevin and David follow on, and Kevin is the first to call start on the task. Onlookers on the ground look up nervously at the circling K-13, pleased to see it within soaring distance of the airfield after David 'land-out' Lisk had been threatening to attempt the 'ambitious' task. This is one aircraft we don't want to be retrieving with its debateably serviceable trailer! Owen lands back having abandoned the task, but makes sure he hits a cone on landing, in case Kevin deals out further points after his incident yesterday. Maybe we won't be retrieving all might after all! But then, the phone starts ringing. They're dropping like flies! Jay is first down, and Owen and Bob quickly volunteer to get on and retrieve him. A few minutes later and Rick's on the phone, down in a field a few miles to the south. The K-13 hasn't been seen in the Birr vicinity for hours, and we all wait in nervous anticipation for the next call. There are still three men in the air after Stuart returns to Birr, though there's no worry that we might have to retrieve Kevin with his untouchable piloting skill (oh, and that engine...)! Only Gary and David to be worried about then. Then... A new concept! Rick appears on the airfield, minus a glider! The kindly farmer he took upon himself to visit has brought him back, and he informs us he is 'self-retrieving'. With some help of course! Walt and Abi volunteer themselves, and then the dreaded call comes... Abi's phone was earlier lost somewhere on the field, so the call had to come through several channels before reaching the club. After several unanswered calls to Abi, David called Owen on the radio and asked him to relay the message to the club. Walt is the one to bear the bad news to Abi, the anxious retrieve co-ordinator. David is told that he's last on the retrieving list, being SW of Durrow and 50km away, and we would be with him in several hours.
And so, off to get Rick's ASW20. Even on the self-retrieve, Rick has impressively forgotten where his field is, so the 5km journey ends up being more of a 10km one, with some excellent trailer-towing three-point-turning. Rick attempts to explain that his field selection might initially appear to be puzzling, due to the two enormous and beautiful fields we have to drive through to get to the glider. However, he assures us that from the air, his choice seemed the best at the time. De-rigging is stress free, though quite slow as Rick gets repeatedly distracted by booming cumulus and perfect cloud streets passing overhead, wondering how he managed to get the glider on the ground in these conditions... Half an hour later we're back on the road, pondering whether to get some food before retrieving David. We get back to the clubhouse but the water has once again stopped running, and we can't foresee any cooking, so Abi and Rick start to round up the troops, and recruit Matthew, Peter and Gary. Just as we are about to head off, Seamus Cashin volunteers himself, claiming we can turn off the sat-navs and abandon the maps, as 'I know this place like the back of me hand- I'm from Tipperary!'. Seamus jumps in the front seat with Rick who is towing the dubious trailer and starts his expert navigation, which Rick quickly becomes sceptical of when Seamus sends him 540 degrees around a roundabout, with a confused Gary following behind. Having learned on Sunday that Seamus tells a good story, Rick tries codjoling some more information out of him, but ends up only hearing the same stories again, and then gets a heritage trail of Offaly, Tipperary and Laois- castles galore!
We somehow make it through Durrow with Seamus' navigation, and start to monitor away at the fields around. Seamus spots a woman standing on the corner of a country road, and we pull over to ask directions to the Toberboe road. She points up the hill, and while Seamus attempts to get rid of Abi by giving her up to the woman's son as a country wife, and gives her bingo tips, Rick spots the glowing k13 on the hillside about a mile away. Gary shoots on, as Gary does, and Rick trundled on towards the yellow bird. Somehow, Rick makes it first, surprised when Gary is nowhere to be seen. Even more surprising is David's field, which is three times the size of Birr airfield... He chose a downwind landing, but it was hardly a problem in Heathrow airport. Gary arrives ten minutes later, having taken a bit of a detour. As we all complain of being starving hungry, David boasts about the hospitality of the farmer and the stonking feed he'd just had. At the bottom of the field are 15 cars and a gathering Wednesday mass, which starts to disperse when the de-rigging commences. Suddenly we are surrounded by a swarm of onlookers, all of whom seem to be Seamus' long lost buddies, and he attempts to avoid lifting the fuselage onto the trailer. Whilst Abi struggles to lift the back of the fuselage alone, we suddenly realise that David Lisk is also neglecting his duties, and chatting away with the spectators.
Suddenly, a wee Irish boy trots over. He's about ten years old, innocent, red haired, nothing to suspect. 'Is dis ting made in Germany?' he said, out of nowhere.
'How did you know that?' said a shocked David. Silence. The leprechaun ignores David.
'He's psychic you know!' says his sister, lingering behind. David stares at them, open mouthed, as they walk away.
David, a little on edge, comes round, and starts to help with the lifting. Yellow K-13 is padded in and stable on the trailer in a fairly impressive time frame, although there's a little concern over the security of the tailplane, which had been damaged on the journey down. However, David is confident in the strength of the corrugated paper, so we get going. Rick drives cautiously, stopping to check the trailer every few miles, regardless of holding up country traffic. David Lisk responsibly adheres to airfield law and wears his high-vis jacket throughout the operation, and was pleased to report no damage.
All is going smoothly, and Rick observes Abi's excellent navigation, but then swiftly takes it back when we reach a roundabout where none of the options seem attractive. We've done it again! Chatting away, we're suddenly heading for Cork for the second time in three days! Fortunately the next roundabout sends us all the way round with a direction for Birr, and we're back on track.
Rick is the first off the grid, with a 1500' launch into a steady 1.5 up. Stuart, Gary, Owen, Jay, Kevin and David follow on, and Kevin is the first to call start on the task. Onlookers on the ground look up nervously at the circling K-13, pleased to see it within soaring distance of the airfield after David 'land-out' Lisk had been threatening to attempt the 'ambitious' task. This is one aircraft we don't want to be retrieving with its debateably serviceable trailer! Owen lands back having abandoned the task, but makes sure he hits a cone on landing, in case Kevin deals out further points after his incident yesterday. Maybe we won't be retrieving all might after all! But then, the phone starts ringing. They're dropping like flies! Jay is first down, and Owen and Bob quickly volunteer to get on and retrieve him. A few minutes later and Rick's on the phone, down in a field a few miles to the south. The K-13 hasn't been seen in the Birr vicinity for hours, and we all wait in nervous anticipation for the next call. There are still three men in the air after Stuart returns to Birr, though there's no worry that we might have to retrieve Kevin with his untouchable piloting skill (oh, and that engine...)! Only Gary and David to be worried about then. Then... A new concept! Rick appears on the airfield, minus a glider! The kindly farmer he took upon himself to visit has brought him back, and he informs us he is 'self-retrieving'. With some help of course! Walt and Abi volunteer themselves, and then the dreaded call comes... Abi's phone was earlier lost somewhere on the field, so the call had to come through several channels before reaching the club. After several unanswered calls to Abi, David called Owen on the radio and asked him to relay the message to the club. Walt is the one to bear the bad news to Abi, the anxious retrieve co-ordinator. David is told that he's last on the retrieving list, being SW of Durrow and 50km away, and we would be with him in several hours.And so, off to get Rick's ASW20. Even on the self-retrieve, Rick has impressively forgotten where his field is, so the 5km journey ends up being more of a 10km one, with some excellent trailer-towing three-point-turning. Rick attempts to explain that his field selection might initially appear to be puzzling, due to the two enormous and beautiful fields we have to drive through to get to the glider. However, he assures us that from the air, his choice seemed the best at the time. De-rigging is stress free, though quite slow as Rick gets repeatedly distracted by booming cumulus and perfect cloud streets passing overhead, wondering how he managed to get the glider on the ground in these conditions... Half an hour later we're back on the road, pondering whether to get some food before retrieving David. We get back to the clubhouse but the water has once again stopped running, and we can't foresee any cooking, so Abi and Rick start to round up the troops, and recruit Matthew, Peter and Gary. Just as we are about to head off, Seamus Cashin volunteers himself, claiming we can turn off the sat-navs and abandon the maps, as 'I know this place like the back of me hand- I'm from Tipperary!'. Seamus jumps in the front seat with Rick who is towing the dubious trailer and starts his expert navigation, which Rick quickly becomes sceptical of when Seamus sends him 540 degrees around a roundabout, with a confused Gary following behind. Having learned on Sunday that Seamus tells a good story, Rick tries codjoling some more information out of him, but ends up only hearing the same stories again, and then gets a heritage trail of Offaly, Tipperary and Laois- castles galore!
We somehow make it through Durrow with Seamus' navigation, and start to monitor away at the fields around. Seamus spots a woman standing on the corner of a country road, and we pull over to ask directions to the Toberboe road. She points up the hill, and while Seamus attempts to get rid of Abi by giving her up to the woman's son as a country wife, and gives her bingo tips, Rick spots the glowing k13 on the hillside about a mile away. Gary shoots on, as Gary does, and Rick trundled on towards the yellow bird. Somehow, Rick makes it first, surprised when Gary is nowhere to be seen. Even more surprising is David's field, which is three times the size of Birr airfield... He chose a downwind landing, but it was hardly a problem in Heathrow airport. Gary arrives ten minutes later, having taken a bit of a detour. As we all complain of being starving hungry, David boasts about the hospitality of the farmer and the stonking feed he'd just had. At the bottom of the field are 15 cars and a gathering Wednesday mass, which starts to disperse when the de-rigging commences. Suddenly we are surrounded by a swarm of onlookers, all of whom seem to be Seamus' long lost buddies, and he attempts to avoid lifting the fuselage onto the trailer. Whilst Abi struggles to lift the back of the fuselage alone, we suddenly realise that David Lisk is also neglecting his duties, and chatting away with the spectators.
Suddenly, a wee Irish boy trots over. He's about ten years old, innocent, red haired, nothing to suspect. 'Is dis ting made in Germany?' he said, out of nowhere.
'How did you know that?' said a shocked David. Silence. The leprechaun ignores David.
'He's psychic you know!' says his sister, lingering behind. David stares at them, open mouthed, as they walk away.
David, a little on edge, comes round, and starts to help with the lifting. Yellow K-13 is padded in and stable on the trailer in a fairly impressive time frame, although there's a little concern over the security of the tailplane, which had been damaged on the journey down. However, David is confident in the strength of the corrugated paper, so we get going. Rick drives cautiously, stopping to check the trailer every few miles, regardless of holding up country traffic. David Lisk responsibly adheres to airfield law and wears his high-vis jacket throughout the operation, and was pleased to report no damage.
All is going smoothly, and Rick observes Abi's excellent navigation, but then swiftly takes it back when we reach a roundabout where none of the options seem attractive. We've done it again! Chatting away, we're suddenly heading for Cork for the second time in three days! Fortunately the next roundabout sends us all the way round with a direction for Birr, and we're back on track.
Day 6- Thursday 16 July
It's a quiet day in Birr- the al fresco breakfast is off, and Jay and Bob pack up and go, leaving the remaining UGCers slightly lost and confused, not least because they realise they won't be washing for several days now that the caravan is gone. The K-13 is to rig thanks to David, and we get it done without too much bother, although the lifting is apparently not up to standard, with Seamus commenting 'you boys could lift that wing if you'd had your new potatoes!' Sticking up for the food of the week Rick says 'nah... nah, we've all had loads of eggs!' This doesn't impress a Tipperary man... 'That means nothing... I knew a man once that had the new potatoes. You hear the thunder. He saw the thunder, and heard the lightning. New potatoes.' Words of wisdom indeed. Inspector Anderson once again announces that all is grand, and the big banana is back in the air.
In other news, at one point we manage to have three Peters on one aerotow combination at one point. The first in history? Andy Cameron drops by for a cup of tea, but takes off again fairly promptly, probably upon smelling the rest of us. All having adjusted to each others unshowered aroma we are slowly fending off all visitors.
We get 20 launches off the ground, which sets the record of the trip, but with the students running out of money the Queen's launches start to dwindle. Seamus takes Abi up for a 'spin' in the K-13, and passes on the immortal advice: 'Thermals are like leprechauns, they're there, you just have to know where to look for them.'
Listen and learn!
Owen optimism kicks in at 1am when David announces: 'Kilkenny and return? It's looking good this!' Rick agrees that it's doable, quoting Seamus' unarguable fact that the K-13 cross country record is over 750km (admittedly in Germany, many years ago when the machine was considered a revolutionary design). Gary predicts a certain 300 day and sets to marking up his maps already, declaring it 'in the bag'. Will there be a final day of landout madness?
In other news, at one point we manage to have three Peters on one aerotow combination at one point. The first in history? Andy Cameron drops by for a cup of tea, but takes off again fairly promptly, probably upon smelling the rest of us. All having adjusted to each others unshowered aroma we are slowly fending off all visitors.
We get 20 launches off the ground, which sets the record of the trip, but with the students running out of money the Queen's launches start to dwindle. Seamus takes Abi up for a 'spin' in the K-13, and passes on the immortal advice: 'Thermals are like leprechauns, they're there, you just have to know where to look for them.'
Listen and learn!
Owen optimism kicks in at 1am when David announces: 'Kilkenny and return? It's looking good this!' Rick agrees that it's doable, quoting Seamus' unarguable fact that the K-13 cross country record is over 750km (admittedly in Germany, many years ago when the machine was considered a revolutionary design). Gary predicts a certain 300 day and sets to marking up his maps already, declaring it 'in the bag'. Will there be a final day of landout madness?
Day 7- Friday 17 July
Up bright and early before 11, and we all look up with anticipation at Gary's 300k day. Unfortunately it seems Gary failed to check the predicted wind strength, as Tome Deane's tent has collapsed in a heap and the wind sock is blowing horizontal from it's pole. Gary scratches his head and goes inside for his daily egg/orange juice/milk concoction, whilst everyone's hopes begin to fade. Claire and Conor arrive back, looking (to our envy) impressively clean and well groomed, but are disappointed to see a lack of flying, and start to plan a mission to Gowran Grange the next day. The tuggie is not due to arrive until after 12.30, so we wait optimistically for the wind to die down. Gary wipes the 300k task, but writes up a smaller one, convincing everyone that 230k is completely doable. As the gusting gets stronger, he becomes less and less optimistic, and the task is shrunk to a mild 100k, but by then we are coming to terms with the fact that there will be no launching in this ferocious crosswind. Ormond Flying Club member Fergus pops by, and the crosswind doesn't seem to phase him as he pushes out his Pipistrel motor glider. Everyone looks on longingly- one man shall fly today! Sticking his head round the corner of the clubhouse, Fergus asks if anyone wants to come along with him for a flight, and Abi jumps at the chance. As she follows him round to the hangar, David Lisk, self appointed Safety Manager, jumps onto the club computer and starts to check the crosswind component operational limitations for the motor glider. As Fergus taxis off to the launch point, David finds that it is operating within one knot of its limit, so Abi may have a chance of surviving her flight. Just in case, Matthew gets outside to film the take-off in case of any subsequent AAIB investigation. But she makes it off! With only a bit of shakiness on lift off, the glider is in the air, and makes a trip down through Roscrea to the Galty Mountains, where Fergus plays at terrifying sheep who obviously are unused to any ridge soaring aircraft on their hills. After several hours, their time is up, and they arrive back at the field and make a successful landing in the still raging crosswind. Abi's adventure is over, and is pleased to have seen some of the countryside, while Gary is bitter that he didn't get the best flight of the day for once.
Dublin declare a premature finish to the Birr Safari due to the impending rain over the weekend, so everyone sets to derigging. In the time that Owen, Gary and Rick have derigged each of their gliders, the Dublin K-21 is still sat outside its trailer as everyone tries to work out the dolly system, and it's thought to be the longest derig in history when it takes almost three hours. As there is no record to suggest otherwise the DGC can quite possibly keep this claim to fame. Next is the K-13. Do any of us ever want to see this aircraft taken apart again after this week?! Well, we're getting good at it at least. With Tim being the dedicated driver for the K-13, and him by now lying up in the Royal Victoria Hospital in Belfast, the K-13 is packed into the Birr hangar on its trailer for the foreseeable future, until some kindly soul offers to make the final retrieve. Owen heads off to Slane to make some music, and the Dubliners all retreat after being fed with a military operation pasta creation, where Matthew threw in all the food left on the table, including vegetable soup, apples, tinned peas and some salvaged turkey. A fine meal it was, washed down with a thimbleful each of Walt's first solo champagne. With the Dubliners gone, Gary, Abi, Matthew and Rick are left to their devices, and start the demanding task of finishing all the leftover alcohol. Aided by a funnel, the task is almost completed, and the foursome decide to investigate the bright lights of Birr. After a combination of running and walking, they reach Birr town and find themselves in the smallest bar in history, complete with a band in the corner. They don't integrate especially well with the locals, but thoroughly enjoy the local scene and fortunately got back to the airfield alive after a short diversion on the children's play area. Having packed up his tent Gary kips in the back seat of his car, parked ready to shoot off at first light. But what mess awaits us in the clubhouse in the morning, and how will the four rowdy northerners ever get Birr airfield back to its original state?!
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