PART 1: Site Report

Why would anyone want to go out to a place as remote as Tonopah? It's a 6 hour drive from the San Francisco Bay Area, the population density rivals the Pacific ocean, the word "desiccant" is appropriate and how will you get anyone to crew for you out there? Only one reason: like central Australia or Namibia (Africa), Nevada's Great Basin is a vast area with strong lift, high cloudbase and the potential for long triangle flights. Tonopah is situated at the south end of a series of ranges extending north and east through the middle of the Great Basin.

I believe the Great Basin to be the only place in North America to reasonably attempt a 1000K triangle in our Standard Libelle (9J), offering high cloudbase, long lift day, relatively open airspace, and a large working altitude band over a very wide arena, without the tendency for a late day cool air washout. A 1000K triangle out of Tahoe/Minden area is not impossible, but I thought it unlikely for myself and the Libelle.

Tonopah's potential became apparent in 1993 when we pursued the Hilton Cup. Flying some long triangles, I selected turnpoints out in central Nevada. Tonopah airport itself was a first turnpoint on an early task out of Truckee. Then, high cu ran north and east from Tonopah to the horizon. Two other Minden based tasks again found me in the rich cu fields of the Nevada Great Basin. By the fall of 1994, I had decided to investigate what Tonopah might yield. At the Reno SSA convention, I floated the idea to Tom Stowers who introduced me to Bill Seed from Kansas. "Bill lives out there for the entire summer waiting for the super days." Really?! Turns out Bill stays at the trailer park adjacent the airport (he's the only resident) all summer and flies his DG-600M (KB) in pursuit of motorglider records. Bill noted that:

• Lift regularly starts before 11am
• A light westerly breeze often comes late in the day, but doesn't kill lift unlike the Sierra "downslope washout" effect
• Summer cloud streets over the entire Basin can run far north into Idaho, and as far east as central Utah
• Lift can work over the area until sunset

Tom also recommended talking with Pete Williams (DG-400, "5N") who flies out of Minden, but has been planning some long flights out of Tonopah. Pete sent me a Tonopah info pack he compiled, some of which is included in this report. He and his wife Charmane, would be out at Tonopah in late July trying for a straight out flight into Idaho.

PART 1: The Adventure Begins

I watched the weather starting in mid-July trying to pick which week to go. Good heating finally appeared to stay by the last week in July. My wife, Genese and our 10 month old daughter, Ondine were in Santa Barbara for the two weeks before Tonopah, whilst I stayed up in the Bay Area and worked. Father-in-law, John, by now a seasoned crewperson, would drive Genese and Ondine, and crew with us for the week. Expectations were set when we stumbled on a Cynthia Robins/SF Examiner article a few weeks before departure describing the Jim Butler Day parade in Tonopah: brothels sponsoring parade floats, a political showcase halfway between Reno and Las Vegas, and with the middle America charm that one might expect in Kansas.

Getting to Tonopah was half the fun. We had left 9J at the home of our friends Jean & Rollie in Clovis, outside of Fresno in early July. After work Friday July 28, I drove to Clovis. Jean & Rollie were out of town, but invited me to stay, "just don't let the cat out." Guess who escaped? Next morning, I spent almost an hour chasing Georgette around the lot before corralling her. An auspicious start.

Yosemite was scenic as always, but not a cu in sight. Worse, a 20-30mph west wind blew. Geez, this trip could be a bad idea. Descending into Lee Vining I spotted cu running far to the east. Wow, will I do three or four 1000K flights?! The manic/depressive condition was kicking in just fine, thank you. By this time an enormous dust cloud kicked off the north side of Mono Lake, probably from rotor touching down. Onto Route 120 off of 395 and the remoteness of the Great Basin began to settle in.

"Dang, those White Mountains are big", I muse as I came to the Benton Station intersection. The radio crackled alive as a number of Southern Cal pilots come onto the White Mountains. Wave worked for those lucky enough to find it, others were dropping out at Bishop too battered by turbulence to continue. Three or four pilots managed to connect to streets at Coaldale and go onto Austin, Mina and points NE.

The Town

On Pete William's advice we stayed at the Clown Motel. Clean, relatively new, and at $29/night the price was right. Other hotels are either older or as much as $69/night. With a crawling infant, I wanted the cleanest floor possible. I had also brought my laptop computer thinking I could get satellite images and forecast data from the Web. However, technology was thwarted again. Because the Clown can't bill you for long distance calls (you have to charge to a card) and because of limited AOL dialing features, I couldn't access the Internet to get my satellite images. I later found a toll free number for AOL access if you don't have local access. Fortunately the Weather Channel was available.

The Airport

The airport is 8 miles east along Highway 6 at 5,426 ft. MSL. Built as a WWII B-24 bomber training base, the main 7,100 ft. runway is today maintained as a alternate for military aircraft flying out of the Tonopah Test Range 20 miles SE. Paralleling the main runway is LOTS of open ramp space (300 ft. x 4,000 ft.). Big weeds grow in the cracks, so before you land on the ramp it's best to check out a clear path by car first. A car race track, petrol refinery, RV park and a few random hangars round out the rest of the airport property. Traffic is very light, with a busy day being a dozen takeoffs/landings. It's ALWAYS quiet on the Tonopah flight line.

The FBO, Desert Flying Service, (702-482-3626) is run by Mark and Linda Petersen. A SUPER nice couple. Mark is a certified SSA observer and has a towhook on his 182. However, as the primary employee, he is also the mechanic, part time cook, fuel/Ox refiller, weather observer, airport manager, and occasional instructor, so let him know your intentions for say, an early launch (for example) so he can accommodate you. The 182 may leave on a rental for the day, or if it's Sunday, he'll be out after morning services are over. The lounge is air conditioned and comfortable.

Although Mark now provides these soaring services, he got up and running thanks to Bill Seed. When Bill saw the potential out here in 1992, he at first auto towed off the tarmac. Later he set Mark up with the tow hook, checked him out, set up the Ox cart and start gate, and got him qualified as an observer. Thanks Bill!

Of course, the terrain appears very unfriendly, but as I learned, it's manageable if you plan properly. On the first morning Bill took me out into the desert just south of the airport to show me the terrain. Unlike Minden or the Mojave, in the area surrounding Tonopah, you can just about land in the desert itself. It's so DRY the valley brush is very small and at worst, would take off a gear door, or you can pick the many dirt roads with relatively low berms, or dry lakes. As I was to find out, there is little problem finding a place to land safely. The BIG issue is keeping close to (and landing at) civilization.

The Flying

Our first day (Sunday) was the area checkout. Reno soaring forecast: light winds, 17K bases, 700 fpm, no storms, cool upper trough, and drier. I feared a continued gale after Saturday's wind, but the entire week had only light winds. After assembly and checking the airport out, my crew got me off for a 2:35pm launch. On the first climb, I joined an eagle. Where did he come from out in this desolation? The sky was blue locally, but thermals were only a few miles apart. The closest clouds started 10 miles away and went as far as the eye could see to the north, east and south. I connected with a street at Warm Springs and cruised 60 miles northeast between 15,000 ft. and 18,000 ft. out to Currant. The brown on tan land is truly arid, but there are enough ranches in sight at any one time that I wasn't worried about where to land. Of course, it's easy to say that when cruising at 18,000 ft. Navigation tip: Bill had said to memorize the appearance of Mud Lake 10 miles south of Tonopah. The dry lake is so light compared to the surrounding land, it's easy to see (at altitude) even from 80 miles away. No problem!

Turning at Currant, I followed another street west towards Austin. The valleys can start to look similar, so keeping track of your progress is important (or get a GPS unit). After crossing the Monitor Valley, the clouds ended. It was 5pm and there was no reason to push hard this first day, so I headed south to land at 6pm. 210 miles just for fun in a little over 3 hours!

There was no overdevelopment that first day, but the rest of the week it was common. However, because it is so dry, the showers were fairly small (couple miles across) with a few big ones over the highest peaks. A common cloud feature the entire week was glaciation. A maturing cu would gain a misty appearance as the supercooled water droplets turn into ice crystals. This I initially thought would hold strong sink, like a shower. Upon observation later, I noticed there was little vertical movement as the crystals slowly descend then evaporate.

The Beginning of the End

Monday we didn't fly as I wasn't feeling so great. Tuesday, August 1 forecast: light winds, 18K bases, 1200fpm, some storms, high pressure building aloft. I declared a 500K Out & Return speed task up the Hot Creek Range to a mine near Franklin Lake and return. Although this was over 350 miles, I thought it best to extend the task to include the highest mountain range. Pete Williams commented this can be a great range to run IF it doesn't overdevelop. Pete was looking to make a 500+ miler straight out flight into Idaho but elected to fly locally. I launched at 1:10pm, a bit late, but didn't think it a problem (Mistake #1). Clouds had already started to lightly shower on course. Then Bill elected to have an aero tow, but was having some troubles so Mark wasn't available to observe my start until 2:00pm. By now a bit nervous, but still confident about the weather, I decide to run the task anyway (Mistake #2). In retrospect I had never started that late on ANY cross country task!

Although the lift was easy to find, I dodged showers the first 100 miles up to Eureka. North of Eureka, I was treated to a spectacular display of a 2 mile high wall of dust lifting off a dry lake and sucked into a small cunim. Great lift but......... it also had a weird, supernatural look. My gut said "steer clear". At this point I should have figured out to abort the task, but single-mindedness won out (Mistake #3). Arriving at the turn I saw a mine, but it wasn't in the right place. After a few minutes, I gave up and shot the mine anyway. Time: 4:15pm. I had averaged 78mph, but I also had to get back! My route up was now completely overcast with showers. The only sector with sun was to the west, and then I could head south. Indeed the first hour went well with a 50 mile jog to the west, topping out at 18,000 ft. over Tonkin. Then life went south. Literally. A solid overcast lay between me and home. The next 2 hours was a slow death as the wealth of speed gave way to the poverty of low saves. A few weak thermals on the Monitor Range extended my glide until I was directly over a ranch at 2,000 ft. AGL. I was too low to go west across the valley to the main road. To the east, through a small pass the Little Fish Lake Valley beckoned as the evening sun lit up most of that valley. I also knew that the roads in Little Fish Lake Valley were very landable ("60 mph dirt roads" Bill and Pete told me). Time: 7:10pm. In desperation, I hopped through the pass, forsaking the civilization right below me (Big Mistake #4). I had not been in contact with my crew since shortly after starting, nor did I use the Remote FSS stations to post Reno FSS on my progress (Mistake #5).

Crossing the shadows of the Monitor Range, the air was very smooth. Only now did I realize that a landout was certain. The best action was to follow the road as far south as possible to get close to Highway 6 and the ranches near there. It's a very interesting feeling, following a generally straight "runway" for a few miles while watching your shadow get closer and closer. It was a smooth a landing as any, letting myself roll for what seems like minutes. My first thought after opening the canopy was, "Wow, it sure is QUIET!" (as if there was anything out there to make a noise!).