We're Exhausted...

Tuesday, June 24





Day One started earlier than necessary with Kelly rattling around in the room around 0430. Nerves, tummy noises, excitement, the need for coffee.

After a mandatory b'fast for all racers we finally got out to the airport. In a zen-like trance we both grabbed a rag and our special top-secret blend of sprays and lubes and got to work. By the time our engine was started the Wonder Chariot was as fast as she was ever going to be.

In the interest of saving time (we've got to get up in 6.5 hours) I'll cut to the chase. Our first leg from BZN to MLS was fast. We abandoned our original plan to skim the tree tops and decided instead to climb high to take advantage of some pretty good tail winds. Funny how a week's worth of planning all goes to hell in a matter of seconds with the Weather Channel!

Actually, while Erin roamed around in a semi-conscious haze waiting for the coffee to kick in, the Fearless Leader (and self-appointed Weather Geek) checked winds aloft and formulated The New Plan. The New Plan made good sense and we were jiggy with it. We had our route and our altitude planned out and agreed upon, and we were happy with it.

And then we saw 30 airplanes all take off in front of us, some climbing like bats out of hell straight toward the mountain range, some zooming through the pass, some peeling off left, others headed toward the lower notch in the hills. Erin, true to form, second-guessed The New Plan and worried about taking the time to go through the pass. And, true to form, Kelly was the voice of reason that reminded us both that we'd already analyzed the info and come up with the best strategy. We'd best not dink with it now, waiting for take off.

As we were approaching the Timing Line a freakishly slow airplane managed to outfly their way in front of the W.C. and drop anchor in just the wrong moment. Kelly flew like a WWII ace and managed to keep us merely inches from their ass (no dual fly-bys allowed), but we had to throttle back a bit. That hurt, but only momentarily as the other airplane veered off to enter the traffic pattern to land while we careened the other way to continue on. We were thrilled, bummed, trembling with adrenaline and eager to get outta MLS which had become a wasp nest with airplanes. A lot of planes decided to land for whatever reason and we wanted nothing of them.

The next leg enroute to ABR was uneventful. We saw 5 or 6 planes along the way and passed them all. By the time we arrived in MLS we'd figured out a strategy and decided to land for fuel, check the weather and make a decision about whether or not to say the night, hoping for better winds tomorrow. When we pulled up on the ramp in ABR the guy parking us said, "Now, that's just not FAIR, your gorgeous airplane competing against all these others..." Yeah, too bad we're racing against our handicap as opposed to the other planes!

And speaking of our handicap, we' the only team that doesn't have one yet. ALL of the other airplanes know what they're racing against, but the organizers told us just before we headed out to the airport this morning that they hadn't figured it out yet. It's frustrating since they've had our complete paperwork for months, but that's the way this cookie has crumbled. We're nervous that they're waiting to see what kind of leg times we come up with enroute before they assign us a handicap speed, but there's nothing we can do about it. So we're flying our best race, hoping the Force is with us.

While we're on the topic of forces, we've got two things to say about that. Since our Debonair buddy Mo had to leave BZN prematurely to beat weather back home in NW Washington, we didn't get to say goodbye (being held hostage in those interminable briefings yesterday). So since we didn't get Mo's parting wisdom, we decided to take along a "Mini Mo". Here she is, spreading The Force around the airplane:

Here's to you, Mo! Thanks for The Force!

The other bit of housekeeping was to rid the W.C. of any foreign objects, namely insect carcasses. Erin is seen here with one of a myriad cans of our (not-so) secret ingredients:


As the rain falls outside the hotel window, The Princess Captain is sucking in her beauty rest and the Lowly Co-pilot slaves over computer screens. Being the captain allows one all of the glory. And in this case it's mostly deserved -- Kelly is a freakin' good pilot, a sh*t-hot weather geek, the Goddess of Oil Changes and an Outstanding Overall Team Ruler. But we all know that behind every good captain is an equally good first officer....

Captain Kelly, all snuggled in and dreaming sweetly.



Co-pilot Erin, double-fisted, still working late into the night....