Celebrating mistakes (Chabre Open Day 4)

It's cold and wet this morning.

The forecast says rain, rain, short pause, then more rain. I am curious to see what the organizers can salvage of the day, otherwise it certainly looks like the comp will be a two tasker at best (Thursday looks good but Friday looks like storms).

Another early trip to the Casino Supermarche (it opens at 0830 and is a 10 minute walk from the camp ground) to top up sandwich supplies and grab some fruit. Aside from a burger at St.Vincent, it has been entirely uncooked food since arriving in Laragne - which certainly is not going to help with retaining weight and thus my wing size (having already lost 15 pounds since the start of the year due to health). Downsizing to a ML might become an unwanted reality before seasons end.

But right now we focus on today and the possibility (rather than probability) of a task.

0930 - the cats slowly herd themselves into the Main Tent and take seats. Jocky and Dave arrive not too long afterwards and go through the motions of awarding the task winner and recognizing those that made goal for the first time (goal virgins).

 

The crowd now is left wondering task or no task?

 

A pause.

 

Task it is.

 

The rinse and repeat of the previous day - grab kit, find a spot on one of the buses, and pile on up the hill.

 

I claim my spot on the eastern edge of the launch area - the wind tends to have an east component making for a downwind run when hunting for thermals along launch, but coming at the expense of having to dodge other launching pilots.



Around 1230 the task is posted.

The beginning and end is the same as the day previous - elapsed time, exit cylinder 3km radius at turn point B01, cross valley behind launch then tag the 1m km cylinder at turn point B06. From there proceed northeast across the main valley to the lake at B46 (the new component), utilize a mix of glide and climb to the B02 ESS (end of speed section - the point at which the clock stops for your course completion time), and land at A05.

Aside from the swap of turn point B33 for B46 today, the other difference from yesterdays task is the presence of cumulus clouds. Yesterdays inversion has been cleared out and replaced with fizzier conditions - more frequent, shorter lived thermals. The clouds will place a cap on the height we can climb to, as cloud flying is not permitted in the comp. When we arrived on launch, we were greeted by a lee side Cu forming right behind the hill. Looks like a bit of a waiting game for the base to rise to what I suspect will need to be a 1900m minimum for a valley crossing to B46.

 

Base might be a wee bit low, right now.

By early afternoon the lee side cloud dissipates and the overall cloud base rises. A launch time is announced and folk begin getting ready for round 2.

B46 is a small lake to the right of center.

Rather than wait, today I decide to launch early and try to keep an eye on the line that Alex takes as he tags the first few turn points. There is little hope I will keep up, especially in climbs, but for the first bit I might get a glimpse to how he resolves the task into actions.

The climb out from launch to B01 and B06 was a non issue. The transition to B46 was equally a one and two affair.

Transition to B46.

 

Upon arriving at B46, I spot a small lump of a hill further north. The location in relation to the valley wind and sun looked promising as did the expanse of field windward that would feed it. We have sources - the fields, we have a trigger - this small hill, all we need is a sign - someone climbing out. This turns out be me, initially. Searching above and  leeward of the hill, I manage to find a patchwork of zeros hinting that a thermal is building and should eventually release. When it finally does, I fail to core tight enough to stay with it and fall out the back. It takes very little time fighting the head wind in the subsequent sink to end up in the rotor of the hill.

 

Next time turn tight, tight like a tiger.

 

Clawing my way around the front of the hill, I try my hand at getting in tight and ridge soaring (something I never really do at home) with the hope that I am lucky enough to catch the next ride. The sound of the rustling leaves and the communal bzzz of what I gather to be a cicada like insect swarm catch my attention during my continuous beats back and forth.

 

 

Kickin' shrubberies.

The comment regarding being a thermal 'sign'? Looks like a few folk saw my attempt to climb out and came to investigate from the slope of the northern edge of the 'volcano'. With greater altitude, skill, and luck they were able to capitalize on the thermal I lost.

 

Fatigue catches up with me and I set down in the field below. The retrieve is a short walk away, which was a godsend as I twist up my ankle something fierce falling into a two foot deep drainage ditch filled with crop level to the field. Speaking of ankles, one of the competitors was the unfortunate victim of a much worse ankle injury slope landing near turn point B06. 45 minutes later he was on his way to hospital and straight into surgery. Word has it he is recovering fine and will be heading home in the next couple of days. Show me a country that has this level of medical/emergency service and won't put you in debt for life.

Injuries aside, my mistake in not hooking the thermal correctly costs me another 5 places in the standings. Jocky mentions in a follow up debriefing of the day that we should not try to make excuses for our mistakes, such as blaming it on the conditions, but instead not only own up to them but in fact celebrate them. The sooner this 'acceptance' occurs, the sooner we can go about fixing what was really wrong.

Another day,  another set of lessons.

Off to the races (Chabre Open Day 3)

Brrr.

It's cold and dry this morning. Sitting outside at 6AM for the daily Skype check in with spousal unit, I am bundled up in fleece, jacket, and balaclava.

Cold morning means active air. Dry, active air means a task. And a task there will be.

Inland flying comes with a certain degree of predictability weather wise. In Manilla, Australia -  if one sees altocumulus forming at sunrise only to see them disappear as the sun clears the horizon - there is likely overdevelopment come afternoon. The same sort of weather guesstimate can be done based on the 'feel' of the air around sunrise

Cold, dry - flyable, mostly clear skies. A fizzy day.

Cold, moist - flyable, overcast. Possible overdevelopment.

Warm, moist -  thunderstorms.

Warm, dry - flyable but inverted. A sticky day.

Grabbing a quick nap before the daily 0930 briefing wasn't the wisest of ideas, as I manage to miss the briefing within which they said there would be a task. Jet lag still taking its toll.

I grab kit and rush downstairs to join the herd waiting for the large bus that will drop us off at the base of the mountain while the shorter buses shuttle folk from the base to top.

 

At the mountain base, a cloud bird omen.

Heeding some great advice while departing the bus, I quickly snag a spot in the little shade present. It is going to be upwards of a 45 minute wait and I am not keen on baking anymore than needed.

With my shade inching away into oblivion, the shuttles arrive to ferry us up the 25 minute climb.

Once dropped off, it is a further five to ten minute hike to the launch area where everyone has selected individual spots to set up. Half an hour passes before the task is posted.

It is an elapsed time task to an air field about 30 km to the north. I personally have come to prefer elapsed time tasks both because it staggers the field and because it forces a higher degree of planning on the part of the pilot. In comparison, race to goal tasks devolve into simply follow the gaggle and hammer the speed bar from the last turn point into goal. Risk taking in terms of selecting flight path along the course (lead out points) is still insufficiently rewarded in race to goal. In short, elapsed time is strategic flying, RtG is tactical.

In any case, this task will have us fly west along the south facing launch ridge into a 3 km radius exit cylinder (B01). The clock for each pilot then doesn't start until they leave that 3km radius. The astute pilot will realize that this radius comes rather close to the 1 km cylinder surrounding the first turn point across the small valley to the north (B06).

A glide east across the main river valley is then needed before connecting with the southern ridge of the volcano (it resembles one, but actually is not). Flying further east along that ridge, one hits the 1 km cylinder of the next turn point (B33).

Then it is combination of climbs and glide to the final turn point/end of speed section to the north (B02) before landing in goal (A05).

'Easy-peasy' as Jocky would put it.

The launch window opens, unleashing the veterans who know how to work the weaker climbs and the overeager who do not. It takes less than half an hour before the ridge becomes a crowded flying conga line. The organizers pop on the radio and declare the launch window closed, waiting for the airborne circus to either climb out or sink out and land. A few minutes pass and pilots begin to clear out of the airspace in front of launch. Launch window reopens.

2PM.

The strong conditions switch gets flipped and the ridge lights up like a Christmas tree. A pilot on what must be a newly purchased Peak 3 tries to launch but doesn't quite have the wing stabilized.  They lose the right side and gets unceremoniously dumped onto the turf. A Rush 4 next to me has a beast of a time trying to manage their wing in the thermal gusts.

This is newbie contradiction - they don't want to be the first to launch, but if they wait - it typically gets too strong for them.

My turn to give it a go.

This is where that kiting practice in Vanier mid afternoon during the summer pays off. A+C's the wing up, a few steps to dampen the surge, turn, two steps and off. No drama.

Kiting your Wing is the PG equivalent of Eat your Wheaties. Remember that kids.

I launched from the eastern end of the hill with the start cylinder to west.  A quick run of the gauntlet, dodging the odd ridge soaring pilot still unsure of where the thermals were and the slowing stream of launchees, and I make my way past the house thermal into the start cylinder (the Flymaster's garbled chirping confirms I am in).

In the start cylinder, looking west at B01. 

Hugging in tight on the hill, I find enough lift to get above the ridge and push out front to there the real thermal meat was to be found. It doesn't take much time or effort to hook a climb up and over the Chabre spineback and begin a drift towards the first turnpoint, B06.

Drifting with a thermal towards B06, the peak to the right of center.

The thermals have some bite despite that fact that my best climb is only 2.5 m/s today. Score keeper Mark who has flown ahead pipes up on the radio through out the task to declare level one conditions (safe to fly) and to reassure everyone one it's smooth and calm. If this is smooth and calm, I can only image what rough is. Regardless of how lumpy it might be, I have a task to fly and the only way I am going to improve is to just focus on flying.

Today starts to highlight my second Achilles heel in this sport (the first being my patience, or lack thereof) - the rather large disconnect between my ability and my confidence in that ability. Were I flying at home under these conditions, I'd likely assume I am in over my head and look to land, yet today I am managing the wing with little trouble - even when crossing the inversion up top and the layers of valley wind shear down low (not to mention a leeside active flying match later on). Jocky and Chris ask as part of the sign up for the XC course that is running next week what are we looking for - for me, it is the need to be pushed, to close some of the disconnect.

But back to the task...

 

As I approach B06, the Flymaster screen changes to show my flight path and the outer edge of the cylinder. With mind to that edge I look at the turn point to follow, B33, and plan the valley crossing, knowing that there is a south west wind at my altitude. The Flymaster chirps that I have tagged the cylinder and I start to turn slightly south of the southern ridge of the 'volcano'. I start my glide and take note of my altitude (2100 m), my ground speed (between 45 and 50 kph from the tail wind) and my glide ratio (15+). I should arrive well above the western end of the ridge.

The 'volcano'.

 

Time for a few minutes 'rest'. I hit the play button on the iPad Shuffle and enjoy the view as one of the PodRunner house mixes blares away on the mini iHome speaker. I had gotten the idea for the set up from one of the American pilots at the 2012 Nationals and modified for my needs. The Shuffle can be turned on and set into pause before I launch and because it is not a touch screen, it is easy to control with gloves on. The iHome unit is USB rechargeable in a zip-able case that can hold the Shuffle when not set up on my flight deck. It also comes with a mini novelty karabiner that I use as a second attachment to the securing cord on the Flymaster. A little adhesive hook material on the back of both the iHome and the Shuffle and we have a virtual airborne disco. Great for killing time on glide or taking your mind off of just how lumpy a mess the air is today.

The southern edge of the 'volcano' passes below me as I begin my approach towards the B33 cylinder. Jocky mentioned that there is a great house thermal at the rock face occupying the eastern edge of the ridge. This advice becomes critical in my decision making and highlights the need to fly the conditions and not the site.

Word on the radio is that the wind has switched to south east and is increasing in strength. Not long after, my ground speed dips down to 6 kph above the lip of the ridge necessitating some judicious application of bar. Getting pushed back into the crater would be ill advised, as organizers phrased it, 'There are no sensible landing options in the volcano' aka there are NO landing options.

Finally having pushed out front of the ridge, I am joined by Jocky's senior guide Chris.

Hi, Chris.

This is the point where a critical mistake is made.

Chris veers left and begins a climb. I stay on course towards the rock face, expecting the face baking in the sun and S/E wind will make an amazing climb that will drift me along the north east edge of the volcano until it intersects climbs coming from the southern face.

The best laid plans ...

There was next to no lift at the rock face. Pushing out in the valley was a possibility, but I stubbornly tried to make the rock face work.

The rock face at B33.

Eventually taking a drifting thermal along the ridge top and ending up in the lee of the north east face. Let the active flying lesson commence.

Highway to the rotor zone.

 

Ever try to core rotor? That's how adamant I was about getting back up. Needless to say it didn't work and I set down in a wheat field in the middle of nowhere. 5 km away was the hamlet of Faye (where I hiked out to) and 10+ km past that was the village of Ventavon.

Start a stampede in one easy word - WOOF!

During the hike out word came across the radio that a blue wing went down in the trees along a ridge to my north. Found out afterwards it was a Maverick. Guess it lived up to its name for not following convention.

The scores have me placed at 62 out of 130. Not bad given that my goal is to end up in the middle third (as opposed to being in the bottom 3 at the Canadian Nationals in 2012).

Tomorrow is not looking promising weather wise, but one can never be sure what the organizers might have up their collective sleeves.

 

The judge declares a Mistral, the pilots appeal to St.Vincent (Chabre Open Day 2)

Wake up to a full on northerly gale a blowin'.

Wind blades a whippin', trees a bendin', and lenticulars a formin'.

The Mistral is paying us a visit.

You can guess what that means...

No task.

Chabre 2014 - the comp that never was?

But the organizers have a plan to salvage the day - St.Vincent des Fort.

St.Vincent - a miraculous combination of geology and geography an hour to the northeast that allows it to become the only flyable site in the region when the Mistral rains a roaring rage upon the Hautes Alps.

The organizers ask for a show of hands as to who is interested - 100 hands go up. Then a show of who is not - 10. These numbers will overwhelm the shuttle buses - its clear it will be first come, first serve.

A quick discussion of the challenges the site has for those not familiar:

1) being the only flyable site in the region during a Mistral means it will be crowded (even before our mass of pilots show up).

2) the launch is a glider and half wide cliff with strong winds.

3) the main LZ is 5 meters below launch height (yes 5 m) a few km's away and separated by a perpendicular running ridge a few hundred meters above launch height.

4) the bailout, while 400 below launch height, is a slope framed by tall trees on three sides, power lines on one and prone to significant rotor.

Basically, its an advanced site.

 

Fast forward to 1130hrs - the 100 prospective pilots has been cut nearly in half. Guess the 'talk' had the desired effect.

In the time between the morning briefing and upload to the buses, I was able to pick the brains of both Alex and another experienced pilot, both of whom had flow St.V, for particulars as to where to fly, where not to fly and why the bailout is a definite no go.

On our way to launch, the buses drop by first the bailout (now I see why I don't want to land here - the deathtrap LZ) and the main lz (much, much nicer, through a declining slope into wind).

At launch we get a walk through how to approach the top landing area given that the site is effectively a flat top hill with significant rotor a hundred meters or so behind launch (did I mention advanced site?), repeated hints to go over the site guide sign, and a strong suggestion that out landings are to be avoided immediately below launch and leading to the bailout (a lot of angry farmers).

That all done, everyone kits up and begins a queue to the launch area. The tandems have priority and occupy the space to the right, while the solo pilots lay out to the left.

It doesn't take long to see which pilots have been making contributions into their pilotage investment via kiting. These would be the folk with quick, confident launches as opposed to those who need multiple resets and/or are getting plucked+dropped.

Eventually my go at it. Jocky has been helping to get pilots away quickly by laying out wings and giving some quick pointers to those struggling with the metrological/psychological aspects of the site. Jocky kindly lends a hand laying out my wing as a cycle comes through. Quick on the C's to keep it ground bound, I glance to my left to check the status of the tandem laid out. They were ready and waiting for the next cycle.

Letting them go first is not simply a matter of politeness. The local tandem operators rely on top landing to be able to swap over passengers, and to be able to top land, one needs to climb. Following the line taken by a local tandem along the ridge will give me the best chance of finding the ever critical first climb. Without it, they might as well bury me in the LZ of death.

The tandem launches and I wait ten seconds or so for them to clear and decide on a direction, then follow suit. The tandems line takes us for a scenic tour to the end of the eastern ridge and back. Following the tandem proves to be a wise choice as many others are starting to sink out in a flush. As another cycle breathes to life and lifts everyone back up to launch height, more pilots launch and add to the melee.

Dodging and weaving becomes the order of the day, with two dozen wings of varying skill all trying to soar the short ridge. It doesn't take long to test my patience and I make my way to the bowl to the west.

The bowl is wonderful collector of thermals being driven up the slope from the lake, but multiple sources means mixing and mixing means a little rock and roll. Most pilots don't wander over here until they are decently above launch height.

The aspiring scratch master decides to dive in low and kick a few tree tops and show folk how its done.

A few bell ringing incidents and employment of colourful metaphors follow as I climb out to above launch and try my hand at top landing. The lift band beside launch is getting stronger and the approach the tandems are employing is little more aggressive than I like.

Back to the bowl.

Kick tree tops.

Ring the bells.

Employ colourful metaphors.

Climb out, again.

At this point I make my way up and over the ridge separating launch from the main lz. From there, over and past the lz to entertain myself in the seemingly endless lift being driven up from the lake valley. A call on the radio hints that those on the ground have the option of being driven down to the lakeshore for food and beer.

I beeline for the lz and land in time to hitch a ride to the lakeside bar.

A glorious day at a gorgeous site. Mistral who?

Storms a brewin' (Chabre Open Day 1)

 

Low rumble off in the distance.

A minute passes.

Another, closer.

Another minute.

Yet another, nearly overhead.

Pat.

Pat..Pat.

PatPatPatPatPatPatPatPatPatPatPatPatPatPat....

A quarter hour must have passed - one could easily keep time with the metronome like quality of the passing storm cell interval.

During one deluge, I enquire at the restaurant downstairs as to what breakfast entails. Toast, jam, and coffee - 6 euro. The hotels in downtown Vancouver would be proud. Remember from last year: Pay more, expect less. So self assembled sandwiches it will be, necessitating a game of downpour dodgeball to the Casino Supermarche.

With ear and eye to the sky, I start the short 10 minute jaunt to the supermarche. No sign of any more cells, perhaps it is passing. Maybe today will be salvageable ('hope is a denial of reality').

Back in time for the briefing, the task is a no go. Those that are interested (aka the non-X class/special needs pilots) stick around for Jocky's presentation on XC flying immediately following the briefing.

A few of the pilots decide to kill time by tossing a rubber boot around.

 

Yes, a rubber boot.

Seriously, a rubber boot.

There is an expression, "Few things are more dangerous than a bored skydiver." I am starting to see a paragliding parallel.

The only other event of note is the NED/MEX futbol match. A large screen tele is setup in the Main Tent and anyone who is not Dutch becomes an honorary Mexican and can partake in the margarita making contest (do they even sell tequila in France?). It is left to the readers imagination how this ends. A little hint, the briefing the next morning was missing a few pilots.

Storms should clear out today though the wind is expected to pick up.


 

Non-Practice Day (Chabre Open Day 0)

A 4 AM start here in Marseille.

Everything has to fall into place travel wise if I am to have any chance of making registration and the mandatory pilots meeting at 0930 in Laragne.

0615 - Hotel Shuttle

After a quick breakfast, the hotel shuttle drops me off at the bus stop in front of the airport. The MRS-Aix shuttle runs on the hour and the half and takes 30 minutes to arrive at its terminus near the Aix regional rail station (not to be confused with the TGV station).

0625 -MRS bus loop

The driver returns from his smoke break. I motion to my glider bag and the open compartment then query, 'le sac, ici?'

A grunt and a nod.

Boarding, I ask, 'Tu vas aux Aix centre ville, gare routiere?'

A grunt and a nod.

Lightened by 8.20 euro, off to the Aix bus station.

Much like LHR Terminal 1, the bus remains devoid of life for the entire trip aside from the driver and myself. Possibly an omen?

0655 - Aix Centre Ville

Arriving in Aix, I disembark and ask, 'Ou est la gare SNCF?'

The driver motions up the road and states, 'La. Gauche.'

Despite being loaded down with 70 pounds of kit, I make good time heading up the road. Spotting a road bridge crossing over tracks to my left, I walk onto it and notice the station. I enter the small single room waiting area with a few minutes to spare. It is 0705 and the monitor above shows my train, 17400 - Briancon departing at 0712.

The train arrives, I 'composte la billet' using the yellow pedestal mounted machines flanking either side of the entrance to the platform, and board.

The train as you can guess is near empty (not many folk travelling into rural France at this hour on a weekend) and becomes more so as we pass through station after station. The decreasing levels of graffiti on buildings near the tracks catch my attention as we head further north, as does the general degree of disrepair. By Sisteron, the towns begin to resemble what I remember from my time in Doussard last year.

0845 - Laragne.

Disembarking, I begin a quick march to Camping Monteglin. Having 'walked' the route in Google Street View before leaving Vancouver helps immensely as no time is wasted with wrong turns.

0900 - Camping Monteglin

Checked in and gear dropped off in the room. 

I head back down to the comp registration table and fill out the pre-requisite forms.

I receive my competitor id, the standard issue t-shirt, and 'goodie bag'.

GPS is then loaded up with waypoints. All told, the entire process takes less than five minutes - certainly a vote in favour of 'late' registration.

Returning to the room, I reconfigure the kit for flying.

0930 - the Main Tent.

Several familiar faces from last years trip to Annecy plus Alex from back home. The organizers gather up the herd of cats and begins the standard pre-comp briefing. In summary, "don't be an idiot".

1030 - the Shuttles

The mass makes its way to the buses to head up to the Chabre launch for the practice task. The drive is rather pleasant, being paved almost the entire way, but long. A short hike reveals a long ridge line with enough room for the entire comp cohort to layout.

This would be wonderful aside from the fact that the windsocks are in full on salmon swimming upstream mode. A lone Ozone Mantra launches, eventually climbs above launch and gets parked.

1200 - Task briefing.

Long story, short - task is a no go. Folk are free to free fly. I get a ride down and word afterwards is that one of the Swedes didn't realize his wing had a pair of line twists, pulls up, gets lifted, stalls the wing, gets dropped and breaks a rib or two. The comp ends for him even before it starts. Another case of air horniness vs. proper pre-flight.

1700 - the Main Tent

A meat and cheese social is put on for the competitors. I decide to try out the GoPro + Gorilla grip with some time lapse - will be great to see how it turns out.

The forecast for tomorrow does not look promising - storms expected.
 

Aeroplanes, trains, et les automobiles - Part 2 (Chabre Open Day -1)

Heathrow holding pattern - an aerial labyrinth into which many a flight enter possibly to never be heard from again.

So went the warning from the captain, but we have a trump card.

A medical emergency (which turned out to be a false alarm, but that wasn't discovered until we were at the gate).

A rapid descent and a straight in approach - no time was wasted getting us a gate. The paramedics pile onto the plane, check the woman downstairs over and give the all clear.

One way to ensure you make a tight connection, I guess.

The herd crawls its way off the plane and brings with it a revelation. I used to be of the opinion that the title of slowest moving mammal on the planet was held by the old ladies driving on No.3 Road in Richmond.

Not anymore - it is Brits with drag bags disembarking a plane. If there was a fire, long pork BBQ would the daily special.

Nary a Canuck flag visible on my kit, I take on the mantle of  quintessential Yank and unapologetically shoulder my way through the gelatinous mass of frequent fliers.

I make my way through Terminal 5, following the stream of Purple Flight Connections signs to an awaiting bus to take me to ...

Terminal 1.

Take a well planned and laid out airport terminal - Heathrow Terminal 1 is everything but. Look up Charlie Foxtrot in a dictionary, you will likely something akin to see also LHR Terminal 1.

The terminal itself was a ghost town, perhaps being used as a set for the next installment of 28 Days Later. Few living souls, aside from myself and the security staff.

Not one to dwell, I get lost a few times before eventually stumbling upon the BA International Lounge near Gate 5. A few more hours killed before I make my way to the gate holding my flight to Marseille.

I am starting to learn, anything involving a mix of Brit and French travellers is destined to become a gong show. The recent French ATC strike has resulted in the flight being oversold (not to mention the mass of standbys). Bodies are packed into the tube of a waiting area, trying to inch closer to the gate door. Each knows that the last on will have no where to stash their bags and will have to use the dreaded under seat storage, eating away at what pittance of leg room BA has gifted them on the A319.

The tension builds, as do tempers. Finally the CSR relents and starts to call rows. I snag my aisle seat in Club Europe and do not have too long a wait before we depart. Another uneventful flight, aside from a cheese offering with the meal that had to rank amongst the worst things I had ever tasted. Note to self: avoid cheese sporting its own ecosystem of flora.

In Marseille, I have the info desk ring up the hotel for the shuttle, and make my way to the curbside waiting area. Tipping the driver comes with an unexpected benefit as he also works behind the front desk. A room upgrade and a half price breakfast.

Not long afterwards fatigue over takes me and I call it a night with an early start planned.




 

Aeroplanes, trains, et les automobiles - Part 1 (Chabre Open Day -2)

Thursday starts with my very own personalized "The Terminal" experience. Advancing a paraglider laden cart through a patrol circuit of domestic, international and US departures.

For 8 hours.

The only thing breaking the monotony - a visit to the bag wrapping store. Ten dollars for peace of mind that I won't need to dry a soaked through reserve from a passing storm as baggage is loaded or face a broken shoulder strap that became jammed in a conveyer. Small price to pay and a welcome distraction from the to and fro.

1530 hrs creeps into view.

My imaginary gatekeeper, forcing this circuit, relents. Wasting no time, I check my Saran Wrap'd wing and bee line for security.

On the other side, near Gate 64, awaits the first part of a self-gifted 40th b-day present.

Yes ladies and gents, this year we fly in style.

Once inside, we find:

A well stocked open bar.

Choice of wine and coffee.

 

 

 

And seating aplenty.

To top this all off, I even happen to chance upon a former colleague with whom I had worked on EAs Need For Speed franchise many a moon before.

8PM rolls around and its time to make our way to the gate. The steerage is growing restless, jockeying for position in some vain hope they might get on ahead of the person next to them.

Ushered onboard ahead of the stampede, I climb the stairs of the 747-400 to the upper deck and look for my seat - the much coveted 64A. 64A is a lie flat pod that is blessed with a unique location that effectively seals if off from the remainder of the cabin. No one walking past or over.

No departure is complete without the traditional glass of champagne.

This evening the upper deck is an oasis of tranquility in comparison to the cacophony of screaming babies and banshee snorers located below.

Take off is non eventful, though it is quite noticeable how much slower the Queen of the Skies is in relation to newer, more powerful offerings. It does not take long before menus are handed out and dinner orders are taken.

Selected are:

First Course:
Roasted Pear with baby lettuce, spiced pecans, and crumbled goats cheese.
Fresh seasonal salad served with vinaigrette.

Main Course:
Chilled main course salad of grilled chicken supreme with cranberry, apricot, and wheatberry.

I forego desert, reconfigure the seat into a bed, and call it a night.

 

 

Tomorrow - Heathrow.