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Soaring Clinic, Winter '01
When Deb and I crossed the Bay Bridge In San Francisco, An alert for terrorist attacks was
in place. A lone soldier with an assault rifle stood next to a hummer, halfway across the bridge.
What exactly he was going to do, if a plane rammed into the bridge, was a little unclear to me.
All the same, I was glad the bridge survived. it's a nice bridge. Never caused no one no harm.
We had been driving like maniacs, hoping to arrive in Pacifica for an afternoon flight. Finally,
at long last, we crested the hill on Highway 1 and got our first sight of the ocean and the flying site there.
Soaring Clinic, Summer '01
I'm still scratching my head over this trip. Did I really just return from 10 days of ridge soaring in a row?
Is it really possible to go on a flying trip and not have even one single bad weather day where you couldn't fly?
Did I really walk away from a flying day and go for a hike because I was too tired to fly eleven days in a row?
Flying in Colorado this year has been like a Charles Dickens novel, ("Please Sir, can I have some more?")
This trip was unbelievable. It came on every day, day after day.