Monday, June 6, 2011
VIP
My brother, Steve, called me last Thursday and said something really great might be coming up for me, but he had to know what I was doing on Saturday. Not much, I said. The weekend looks pretty quiet.
"I have VIP tickets for the Moody Blues Saturday night at Chateau Sainte Michelle Winery. It looks like my client's husband can't make it, so I asked Rose if she'd like to have my sister sit next to her. Rose is a very outgoing person, so she said sure right away, but she has let me know if she can get the night off."
Steve works for Youngs Columbia, a major beer and wine distributor. Rose owns a bistro in Mukilteo. It isn't easy for her to get a Saturday night off. Steve called on Friday and said everything is a go, could I meet them at his house at 3:30 for bubbles and appetizers. We should be at the winery by 5:00 for schmoozing, and the concert starts at 7:00. Oh, you bet I could!
Steve and his wife, Ginny, Rose and I met up at the rally point.
The VIP seats are for people in trades like restaurant owners, sales reps, and people the winery wants to reward. I couldn't have bought the ticket for myself. I'd never had this experience and I was very excited as we entered the property. "We'll go to VIP parking," said Steve, faking a yawn.
That was easy. "Look at all the people lined up for general admission," said Steve. Some of them feel they have to get here at 11:00 a.m. and wait hours to get in. They all want that just right spot on the lawn. Seating is open, it's all lawn, and people bring blankets and low chairs to sit on. Some make quite a big deal out of low tables with linens and complete picnic.
We side stepped these unfortunate line people and took an inside sidewalk to the Chateau. As we glided by one of them said, "HEY. The back of the line is over there!" Rose stopped to explain that we were where we were supposed to be, and I said, "Give em the finger, Rose." But she didn't.
We were checked in and hand stamped, wrist banded and name tagged. Then graciously welcomed into the Chateau.
We get a special crystal wine glass and it is refillable, no charge. There is a table full of really elegant canapes; crab cakes, asparagus in phyllo, curry chicken skewers, antipasto... I can't remember all of the things. No charge, of course. We sat on the VIP patio and enjoyed the beautiful weather, and in the distance we could see the line people making very slow progress.
"It is kind of our hosts to situate the line people a fair distance from us. They look sweaty," I remarked to my brother.
Fifteen minutes before concert start, we thought we'd go look for our seats. We noticed that our section of porta potties sat discretely behind the VIP tent. They were a little bigger than the potties provided for the line people and they said VIP on them, too.
I took off my sandals for that Summer of Love barefoot look. Ste. Michelle has lush lawns and they feel so nice. We found our seats, opened a bottle of chardonnay, and looked around. Perhaps we should see what kind of dessert is offered in the VIP tent this evening. There were so many goodies and cheeses you could not fit them on the dainty little plate. I chose three tiny goodies; one lemon, one chocolate and one cheese.
The Moody Blues started promptly at 7:00 and gave a good performance. There are three orignal members, the all-important rich vocals are very much there. The weather was absolutely perfect. People were naturally relaxed due to these conditions and were smiling at each other. We settled into our chairs while the line people got comfortable in their earthy territories.
It was one of those rare nights in the Northwest when you remember that this area can be quite like heaven on earth and people can be nice to be around.
Fantastic!
"I have VIP tickets for the Moody Blues Saturday night at Chateau Sainte Michelle Winery. It looks like my client's husband can't make it, so I asked Rose if she'd like to have my sister sit next to her. Rose is a very outgoing person, so she said sure right away, but she has let me know if she can get the night off."
Steve works for Youngs Columbia, a major beer and wine distributor. Rose owns a bistro in Mukilteo. It isn't easy for her to get a Saturday night off. Steve called on Friday and said everything is a go, could I meet them at his house at 3:30 for bubbles and appetizers. We should be at the winery by 5:00 for schmoozing, and the concert starts at 7:00. Oh, you bet I could!
Steve and his wife, Ginny, Rose and I met up at the rally point.
The VIP seats are for people in trades like restaurant owners, sales reps, and people the winery wants to reward. I couldn't have bought the ticket for myself. I'd never had this experience and I was very excited as we entered the property. "We'll go to VIP parking," said Steve, faking a yawn.
That was easy. "Look at all the people lined up for general admission," said Steve. Some of them feel they have to get here at 11:00 a.m. and wait hours to get in. They all want that just right spot on the lawn. Seating is open, it's all lawn, and people bring blankets and low chairs to sit on. Some make quite a big deal out of low tables with linens and complete picnic.
We were checked in and hand stamped, wrist banded and name tagged. Then graciously welcomed into the Chateau.
We get a special crystal wine glass and it is refillable, no charge. There is a table full of really elegant canapes; crab cakes, asparagus in phyllo, curry chicken skewers, antipasto... I can't remember all of the things. No charge, of course. We sat on the VIP patio and enjoyed the beautiful weather, and in the distance we could see the line people making very slow progress.
"It is kind of our hosts to situate the line people a fair distance from us. They look sweaty," I remarked to my brother.
Fifteen minutes before concert start, we thought we'd go look for our seats. We noticed that our section of porta potties sat discretely behind the VIP tent. They were a little bigger than the potties provided for the line people and they said VIP on them, too.
I took off my sandals for that Summer of Love barefoot look. Ste. Michelle has lush lawns and they feel so nice. We found our seats, opened a bottle of chardonnay, and looked around. Perhaps we should see what kind of dessert is offered in the VIP tent this evening. There were so many goodies and cheeses you could not fit them on the dainty little plate. I chose three tiny goodies; one lemon, one chocolate and one cheese.
Fantastic!
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Hummingbird Haven
One June afternoon in 1962 my father took me to watch the gliders at Hummingbird Haven. It was an airstrip for glider craft just East of Livermore, California, where we lived. The valley rolls toward grassy hills just before Altamont Pass, and the airfield lay in a perfect flat acreage. As we found a place to park, where we could sit on the hood of the car and watch the flights, Dad told me a little bit about the history of this place.
As he spoke, I discovered that my father came out here often, and knew some of the pilots. Although he'd never been up in a glider he knew quite a lot about them. He said the Northern California Soaring Association had been at this site since the mid-50s and was founded by two men who designed glider aircraft. That's one right there, he told me. It's called a Nelson Hummingbird. It's actually got a small engine that assists it into flight and back to the ground. He'd seen it take off and land on another day, it amazed him that after gaining loft the engine and propeller would retract into the fuselage, optimating the lift to drag ratio.
The thrill, of course, is to fly without an engine. The pilot soars along currents of air, seeking "thermals," or hot currents of air, that naturally rise and take the aircraft up with them. Dad told me about how a thermal is like a column, it kinda rises from the ground to the clouds in the shape of an invisible mushroom. The airship enters the column and glides around and around, up and up. As he reaches the top of the thermal-mushroom, the air begins to cool quickly and grow turbulent. That's his signal to shoot out of the thermal and soundlessly glide as far as the loft will take him. The loft can reach 20,000 feet and last for hundreds of miles, although this is unusual. A glider can travel from thermal lift to thermal lift and stay up quite a long time.
This day, Dad and I watched an auto tow. It may have been a soaring lesson or just some guys goofing around. We saw a kid, no more than twelve years old I'd guess, open the driver's side of a 1948 2-door Ford convertible and climb over some cushions (so he could see over the dashboard). He expertly started it up and drove it about 1000' feet from a TG-3 Redwing glider, pointing the back end toward the airship. He located a cable on the ground leading from the TG-3 and attached it to the car's hitch. He ran back to the car, over the cushions again, and looked toward the glider with excited anticipation. We could see some motioning from inside the glass cockpit and the kid eased the car forward to tighten the slack cable, watching over his shoulder for the wag of the rudder, and then he nailed the accelerator! Blast off!
"That's a Cadillac engine. Hopped up," said Dad, "I've heard about this."
The glider climbed fast, at about a 45 degree angle. It got to a little over 600 feet, maybe, then jerked a bit as it released the cable. Not real high, but enough to get into a pattern that made a big circle and approach to land back where it started. That kid stayed on the gas and made a big fishtail at the end of the runway, his plaid shirt flapping in the wind in synch with the windsocks along the runway, blowing his hair all around his head. From my seat I could feel the absolute joy of it.
He slowed down to travel the runway back to the starting point, and waited for the glider to return, standing on the cushions and stretching as high as he could toward the blue skies. His right hand shaded his eyes, and when he saw the glider approach the runway and pass overhead with a "swoosh" sound, he raised both arms in the air, waving and whooping.
After landing, the boy towed the Redwing back to the launch point and reattached the cable.
My dad and I watched three of these flights before it was time to go home. He said to me as we buckled up, "That boy really loves the aircraft. I wonder how many times he tows before he gets to go up himself?"
As we left the airfield, I saw the boy at the pop machine, wiping his hands on his pants before he shoved the bottle top into the opener.
"It would be fun to see the boy fly his first solo, when that day comes. And I'm sure it will."
As he spoke, I discovered that my father came out here often, and knew some of the pilots. Although he'd never been up in a glider he knew quite a lot about them. He said the Northern California Soaring Association had been at this site since the mid-50s and was founded by two men who designed glider aircraft. That's one right there, he told me. It's called a Nelson Hummingbird. It's actually got a small engine that assists it into flight and back to the ground. He'd seen it take off and land on another day, it amazed him that after gaining loft the engine and propeller would retract into the fuselage, optimating the lift to drag ratio.
 |
| Nelson Hummingbird developed around 1959 |
 |
| This picture shows the engine out of the fuselage for landing assistance |
This day, Dad and I watched an auto tow. It may have been a soaring lesson or just some guys goofing around. We saw a kid, no more than twelve years old I'd guess, open the driver's side of a 1948 2-door Ford convertible and climb over some cushions (so he could see over the dashboard). He expertly started it up and drove it about 1000' feet from a TG-3 Redwing glider, pointing the back end toward the airship. He located a cable on the ground leading from the TG-3 and attached it to the car's hitch. He ran back to the car, over the cushions again, and looked toward the glider with excited anticipation. We could see some motioning from inside the glass cockpit and the kid eased the car forward to tighten the slack cable, watching over his shoulder for the wag of the rudder, and then he nailed the accelerator! Blast off!
"That's a Cadillac engine. Hopped up," said Dad, "I've heard about this."
The glider climbed fast, at about a 45 degree angle. It got to a little over 600 feet, maybe, then jerked a bit as it released the cable. Not real high, but enough to get into a pattern that made a big circle and approach to land back where it started. That kid stayed on the gas and made a big fishtail at the end of the runway, his plaid shirt flapping in the wind in synch with the windsocks along the runway, blowing his hair all around his head. From my seat I could feel the absolute joy of it.
 |
| Auto tow just before release. You can barely see the cable. |
He slowed down to travel the runway back to the starting point, and waited for the glider to return, standing on the cushions and stretching as high as he could toward the blue skies. His right hand shaded his eyes, and when he saw the glider approach the runway and pass overhead with a "swoosh" sound, he raised both arms in the air, waving and whooping.
After landing, the boy towed the Redwing back to the launch point and reattached the cable.
My dad and I watched three of these flights before it was time to go home. He said to me as we buckled up, "That boy really loves the aircraft. I wonder how many times he tows before he gets to go up himself?"
As we left the airfield, I saw the boy at the pop machine, wiping his hands on his pants before he shoved the bottle top into the opener.
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