The return of Mr Ooster
Finally, a long lost friend returned on the weekend.
After months of awaiting the summer blow known in these parts as the South Easter,
or Suid Ooster in the Afrikaans language, came throttling through on Sunday
and looks set to stay for the next week at least, and possibly for the next 10 days
if predictions are to be believed.
Saturday was all wishy after predictions of a really good afternoon at Kommetjie,
and nothing more than a gentle breeze accompanied Christo’s Banana and Kev’s Chucky,
both floating on a fart above the Kommetjie slope. Later that night, the gentle stirring of the trees
had most slopers listening with a keen ear as the signs of life started up.
Beginning in a somewhat gentle manner, this South East beast of a trade wind started to come
to life about 11AM and by 4 PM was hammering away in the 50 kilometer range.
The midday session was awesome as Bill beat everybody to the slope,
followed by Steve and myself. Some decent aerobatics practice got under way
on our home slope with both the Kulbutun and the Vector 111 rollicking around the sky
in pursuit of the new routines for the January event.
By 1pm the South Easter started to really push and the arrival of Damian, Carlo and Christo
heralded the start of the foamie formations interspersed with crazy as hell combat.
The warbird foamies were in a league of their own, zooming ridiculous heights on the back
of the half pipe swings, with some amazing speed and energy attached.
Slow was not an option, and many a flyby at deck-height was done with a nervous giggle
or two attached as the spectre of pounding into rock face was well
and truly on the cards with the guys pushed each other harder
and harder into ever tighter formations.
Combat was as combat always is: simply hilarious!
Apparently Carlo was able to hear the howling laughter emanating from the slope front
all the way back in the car-park as the shenanigans were wafted up the valley,
as wind increased the intensity of the combat up to furious speeds.
Thankfully there were no real injuries to man or glider on the day
and all pilots took leave of the slope at about 4PM with grey matter pouring from their ears
and brain meltdowns in full progress. Nothing a beer at Dixies didn’t fix right away!
The Pessimist complains about the wind, the Optimist expects it to change
and the Realist adjusts his sails.(William Arthur Ward)