I wish I could say that the accident was pilot error. This would make me feel better about flying because I can correct pilot error by more training. I can't correct something that is attributable to being at the wrong place at the wrong time, or an occurrence of an act of God! How can you combat that? The only mistake that I have been able to fully attribute to pilot input, was the decision to launch. Driving up to launch, I could see the edges of the clouds being broken up by turbulence. The conditions definitely indicated we were in for something other than a gentle sled ride. Even for an epic cross-country flight, I would prefer conditions not so rough. There were already Hang Glider pilots in the air talking about the turbulence, but they also were ecstatic about the possibility that the Santa Barbara Season is now beginning. This statement comes out prematurely almost every year. Over the past few years, there have been a few great days in August, which fools us into thinking that the season is beginning, when in fact it is still a few months in the future. August is usually right in the middle of the high pressure, sled ride days of summer.

     The excitement in the air, that is the reports from the pilots already flying, was factoring in on the decision to launch. I have flown many times, in the conditions that we were seeing, and I was excited to get some practice in strong air. The Nationals in Aspen were two weeks away, and I needed practice. We arrived at launch to witness the wind blowing SSE at approximately 9 mph. The direction was almost perfect for this launch. All of the telltales showed perfect direction, including the one on top of the tower that is the first to indicate North winds, or wind over the back. The only hesitation was the strength of the wind. 9-10 mph, under turbulent conditions, was on the strong side. I pointed this out to the other two pilots, Jessica and Daniel, and noted that this could be a concern as far as trying to penetrate to an LZ, and they agreed. Jessica decided that, with her Nova X-act, she would be better served to not fly, a decision that later on would be the best decision of the day.

     I set up my glider and launched. Almost immediately, I felt the turbulence that the earlier pilots were describing. I felt lift, not very massive, but unorganized. Then, I immediately encountered sink. I elected not to proceed on the normal route, which is to fly to the right of launch, and try to catch lift over the spine that leads to West Bowl. Instead, I thought it best to head straight to West Bowl, toward the landslide, and try to get out of the mountains. I thought that the lift would be a little smoother out front, and also I would be closer to the LZ in case I decided to terminate the flight. I made incredible time flying out to West Bowl, almost like I had a tail wind. Flying over West Bowl, to the front face, I found the turbulence more tolerable and headed to the west side of west bowl, where the rock face can usually be very thermic.

     As expected, I connected with a thermal that wasn't very strong, somewhere between 600-800 fpm, but it was rock and roll and I wasn't very comfortable. As I gained altitude, however, the thermal was becoming smoother, and I was even able to relax and look back towards launch for Daniel. I decided to try and radio back to him that it wasn't really worth launching, but I was too late, he had already launched.

     Even though I thought the conditions were stabilizing as I climbed, that is the thermal was becoming smoother, I decided that I had experienced enough turbulence, and that I should just head for the LZ. As soon as I straightened out and headed towards the LZ, my canopy shriveled up in a ball, as if it were a snail and someone had thrown salt on it. Daniel was in position to witness the collapse, and said it looked like one wing tip flew in one direction, and the other went its own direction. Whatever, I started to lose altitude at a rather brisk rate! As I plummeted, I pumped the collapse out. I recovered, from that collapse, only to have the canopy collapse again. All told, my canopy collapsed three consecutive times! I recovered from the first two all right, but the third time, the canopy opened up with one end sewn through the lines. This, I realized, I could not recover from and to top it off, I was now in a spiral dive! This is when I decided to throw my reserve.

     Unfortunately, I was too low for the reserve to open. I hit the ground, somewhere near the top of West Bowl. As soon as I hit, I could tell that I had broken bones, either in my hip, or my leg. I had almost complete recollection of the fall, and the hit and I do not think that I was ever knocked out, but being the victim, I might not know. I had fallen through some scrub brush, and hit rocks. Because of the bushes, I didn't have a view of where I was, but my glider is pure white, and it was visible all over town. I also knew that I landed in an almost inaccessible area, where there were no trails, either from the base, or the top of the mountains. It would take 8 hours just to hike to my position. I figured that the only way out of this predicament, was by air. This would probably take a couple of hours to organize, so I didn't panic, instead grabbed my radio and called in the emergency. My club, the Santa Barbara Soaring Association, which happens to be the best club there is, went immediately into rescue mode.

     Lew Riffle, who wasn't even flying this day, got on the radio and competently became the base operator, calling 911 and directed traffic. The rescue team then arrived, and sent half of the team to the top of the mountain. Their plan was to try and reach me by foot, starting from both the top, and the bottom. Knowing the terrain that was in front of these teams, my heart sort of fell. I knew that, in my condition, I was not going to be alive when they finally reached me, let alone the time it would have taken to extricate me from the area. The problem was that no one, at that time, was near me. The rescue team was trying to determine the extent of my injuries on the reports that I was sending them. I was not able to move around to check on all of my faculties. Also, I was calm, and coherent, which I assumed led them to believe that I was not as hurt as I really was. It has been my experience, in dealing with rescue operations, or tending to people that had been hurt, that the victim first experience denial, and they do not comprehend the severity of the situation. This is exacerbated by the adrenaline that naturally flows through the body. I keep this in mind when I am dealing with accident victims, and always try to treat the injury more seriously than the victim reports.

     Then Tom Truax arrived on the scene. Tom wasn't monitoring our frequency, so he wasn't aware of the accident until he arrived and spotted me from the air. Amazingly enough, he found a location close by me, and landed. He landed about 50 feet from me. After landing, he switched frequencies to the channel we were using and asked for information about the accident. Fortunately Tom had his cell phone, for when he found out how the rescue team was proceeding, he got on the phone and asked about the helicopter. He was instrumental in convincing the Santa Barbara rescue to call the Ventura County Fire Department Rescue, to get the helicopter and extract me. This was, in my opinion, the only way that I would have made it out of that area alive. By the time the helicopter reached me and lowered one of the paramedics to me, he pretty much just gave me all the morphine he had, and hoisted me out. All together, I was stuck on the mountain for about 3 hours.

     A side thought, when the helicopter arrived, I almost got into another catastrophe. Although I had unhooked myself from the harness, my speed system was wrapped around my legs, and I didn't know it because I couldn't move to look that far down my body. When the helicopter came, and it was one of the Vietnam era type Hueys, it hovered directly over my position, rather close. The downward wash from the props was extremely strong, and was blowing my canopy away. With my harness still attached to the canopy, the force was immense, and started to take me along with it, since I was still wrapped around the speed bar. The only thing that saved me, was the harness was stuck in the scrub brush and I, with all the strength I could muster, held the harness in the brush, using it to prevent myself being blown away.

     20-20 hindsight is not helping me any at this moment, as far as preventing this accident from happening again. I can recognize the weather pattern again and not fly when it happens, but many people were flying that day, and I also have flown in weather like that without much more than the typical collapses that we experience all the time in rowdy weather. The canopy I fly is a DHV 2-3, and I thought about moving down to a DHV 2, but what will that solve? I am not sure that this accident would not have happened if I was flying a different glider. I can vow to repack my reserve in a more timely manner, such as every 4-6 months. When I was a skydiver, we had to have the reserve repacked every 4 months, without question. Checking the date of the last repack is part of the preflight we did on our rigs. We shouldn't question the wisdom of our brother flyers that rely more heavily on the reserve. I hadn't had my reserve packed in a year, and this might have been the reason my reserve didn't open, or at least didn't open fast enough. I was very fortunate to come away from that accident with just a shattered femur. I ran into great luck, having probably the best orthopedic surgeon in the area on call at the time. Instead of traction, the doctor placed a titanium rod down the middle of the bone, and attached it with screws to my hip at one end, and my knee on the other end. I didn't even need a cast. I do, however, need to go back to the hospital and have the leg repaired. Evidently, the leg healed improperly, and it is an inch too short. It will probably take six months to a year before I am fully recovered and back in the air.

     I would like to take this opportunity to show my appreciation to a few people. These people made it possible for me to survive this ordeal. First of all, Tom Truax landed in a spot that took great skill to pull off. He was there with me, provided shade as we waited for rescue, helped the paramedics in whatever way they needed, then folded up my canopy, which took some doing as it was strung out around the chaparral and scrub brush. Fortunately he didn't have to hike out, as the helicopter crew flew back and retrieved him.

     Second, I would like to pay tribute to Jessica Rees, Bobbie Bratz, and Daniel Girard. They took time to clean out, and arrange my house for my convalescence. You probably have no idea what a job cleaning my house was. Then, they made sure that everyday, I had dinner, and that all my needs were taken care of, including carting me around to pick up medicine, or doing laundry, or doing my dishes. They even made sure I had entertainment, renting me movies. (They have excellent taste in what movies to see)

     Next, I would like to thank the many that came to visit. Jacque Cooper came over and made me an excellent dinner. One that I was eating leftovers from for days. Then Dave and LeAnne Goering cooked me dinner. Many people came to visit, and offered me flowers, and chocolates. I cannot begin to describe to you what these actions mean to me. I can only say thank you very much, I am forever yours.