Ok, unfortunately Maverick wasn't on my wing guiding me to a safe landing on a pitching carrier deck ... but I WAS wearing one of my Navy Flightsuits so I'm authorized to use "Top Gun" quotes with authority. I didn't widow/orphan my wife & kids, but I am in need of two downtubes and my body is covered in multiple bruises. I'm feeling like Indiana Jones in Raiders where the only thing that doesn't hurt is the end of his nose. Todays accident has been brought to you by the Letter I ... for Impatience. Today started out like any normal Saturday, rolling out of bed, getting back in bed, then talking myself out to the kitchen to make coffee before checking weather & winds. Loading up, I got out a bit later than expected but was making great time right up until the 9 mile backup from Exit 42 to Route 404. Adding another hour into my transit time was not in my original plans. Arrived to the Desert Plateau, that was Ridgely today, I expected Pyramids and the Sphinx to rise up out of the ground. It was hot, DAMN hot, so I was unabashedly unexcited about waiting for 1 1/2 hours in line since they were only running 1 tug, and a slow one at that. Finally it was my time to roll the dice against the fleeting thermals and off I went. I fought the good fight for about 25 minutes but the lift was light and the thermals were small. I gave it my best, but could only maintain 2,000 for about 15 minutes. As I decended towards the field, I noticed that there were only 3 people in line. Did I mention it was hot? My obviously overcooked brain decided that it would be much more cooling efficient to land on the taxiway and quickly slip my glider into line while I went and jumped into the pool during my next hour wait.As the winds were out of the South, I flew my downwind and turned base offsetting the grass strip that we take off from. Throwing a quick S-Turn in to bleed off a little more altitude, I turned final. Unfortunately in my 5 years of flying Ridgely, I failed to notice that there is about a 10 foot elevation change (Read: Hill) between the grass strip and the taxiway. Since I wasn't able to swing wide over the active runway, my final was effectively about 50 feet and I had not figured in that loss of 10 feet. Realizing the impending doom as my wings leveled, I cowered in fear, gently eased the bar out and assumed the fetal position. My basetube impacted the hill about 3 feet below the top and I power whacked in with a good amount of pattern speed. Both downtubes collapsed on impact and my body took the rest of it. I think my helmet either hit a downtube, the keel or the ground because I was a little dizzy when I stood up. Once all motion came to a stop, nothing seriously painful was experienced except for a dull ache in most of my muscles. Jim helped me pack the glider and provided Extra Strength Tylenol. (Thanks Jim)In a nutshell, my impatience for extending my time in the heat and in line got the better of me. My decision to land where I did, although quite possible, did not leave me with any margin of error. If I would of hit a sink monster (insurance covers that), the same result would of probably happened. It would of been much safer to fly a normal pattern and suck up the short walk back to the line. Son, your ego is writing checks your body can't cash. Thinking I can put my glider anywhere I want is a good goal, but there is always a need for leaving fudge factors in there as well. All in all, the cost was 2 downtubes and probably a few days of pain and bruises. I learned a good lesson, and hopefully all who read this will learn from my mistake instead of making it yourself.That was some of the best flying I've seen to date - right up to the part where you got killed. Gutsiest move I ever saw, Mav.
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