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patworks

With Eagles (StraightArrow poem)

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With Eagles

"To be again where the angels play
In the endless halls of space,
To race again the whistling wind
With the sun hot in my face.

To top the golden tinted clouds
To see the distant rain,
To ride the rainbow's spectra band
To just be alive again.

To fly thru halls of towering clouds
Where the ancient Gods once Played,
To lose myself in the milk-white haze
To lose weeks or years or days.

To roll down from the shining sun
Toward the stagnant earth below,
On a high side pass from two miles up
And the bright round amber glow.

To ride again the calm still air
When the universe stands still,
To fight the jolting, bucking stack
That tests your every skill..."



by Charlie Straightarrow, from United We Fall, Ch 3, '78, RWunderground
Pat Works nee Madden Travis Works, Jr .B1575, C1798, D1813, Star Crest Solo#1, USPA#189,

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Maybe you'll like this one better!







Cloud jump

The ride up is always a pain in the ass.

If you fly at the back of the bus, the windows in the Beech are too high to see out of. Conversation and the guys clowning at The door-pass the time.

On jump run, you sit as long as you can so you don't have to stand crouched in the thin air.

When you do stand, ready for the sprint, you put your head in that state of aggressive, relaxed, total concentration that you've found really lets you get it oil.

Cut. Ready? 54321! Go! go go go go

Head low, down the hall, sharp right and out, you arch to dive and your left side stalls briefly in the subterminal air.

Into the dive. Far out! A valley of clouds!

The base disappears into the puffy side of a cumulus mountain and the swarm follows.

You dive, swoop, brake and set up your approach in sinewy movements,

While grey-white masses roar up around your ears.

Reflexive paranoia: Cloud-Rush freight-trains you and the star.

Wet air. Your vision flashes in and out like a strobe light. The adrenalin rush bobbles your approach and slows your entry.

Drop your ass for a wrist entry - and you're in.

Shake and break. Check out the star as the white world waterfalls up around you with an eerie, silent roar. Awed and exhilarated, you split as the star explodes like a Fourth of July rocket.

Sit up, pull, and the world starts.

Pat Works, RWu, Fall 1972










~ If you choke a Smurf, what color does it turn? ~

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I remember that jump...thank you airtwardo.
’72 Hinckley, Illinois. Twin Beach. Speed star. James Gang. Practice for the 1st 10-way Nationals ever. Legs spread, we sit on the floor -- can't see out. No floaters then, just base-pin. We all pulled 'low' back then. So, close clouds below our exit mimic heavy ground rush. Pre-AAD, your brain cries “alarm!” Merging movement, electricity and 3-D visuals overwhelm it all. Dive, fly, + dock. You can taste the cloud-chilled air. It blows cold on our cloud-soaked selves. Ten round canopies carry us home for another jump... We hope as puffy white masses swell to close our sky. Yet again.
Pat Works nee Madden Travis Works, Jr .B1575, C1798, D1813, Star Crest Solo#1, USPA#189,

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Like much you've written Pat, when I read Cloud Jump...I'm right there with ya! B|



+1. Shame these writings are not passed on to the next generation as often as should be.
Please don't dent the planet.

Destinations by Roxanne

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