The rain drained away any residual optimism that might have remained as it persisted relentlessly through the night. The morning dawned heavy and dark with no-hope or pretense of flying activity as the day was cancelled by breakfast and alternate activities were planned.
Dantes Inferno Canto # 8 "Anger"
Yesterday ended after a frantically cancelled task moments before the first overly enthusiastic pilots could launch from the lower take-off as the ominous squall darkened the horizon and advanced on our puny position attacking the white cliffs with all of the fury and vigour that consumed the Byzantine community during the Seljuq invasion that spelled the end of the that era.
Mongol Hordes (sorry, no Seljuk Hordes to simulate approaching gust front, so you got Mongols, ok?)
The out-look for the coming week is twenty eight grams short of an ounce. The current hope is that (ALL) the forecasting models are over-reading and inaccurate and that the organisors really will find flying sites that can handle fresh NE winds.
The facts, though fascinating, can never deter our blind optimism!
Veni, vidi, vici!!
(or maybe that should be: Veni, vidi, demerso)