2012 Red Rock Las Palomas/Rocky Point Triathlon, Puerto Penasco, Mexico.

April 3, 2012
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By Tom Demerly.

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Puerto Penasco is a sleepy coastal town at the northern edge of the Sea of Cortez in Mexico. The warm, placid waters are havens for whale calving and dolphins. Once a year the city of Puerto Penasco, known in the U.S. as “Rocky Point”, hosts the Red Rock Las Palomas Triathlon at the Las Palomas Resort in Rocky Point. Here is our first sighting of the Sea of Cortez on our GPS as we make the scenic drive south through Mexico to Puerto Penasco.

The beach at Puerto Penasco is idyllic light sand extending out into calm, shallow water. It is perfect for first time open water swimmers since it’s calm and shallow with good visibility the entire way out. Shallow depths allow athletes to stand up almost everywhere along the 1000 meter swim course.

Part of our group conducts a beach reconnaissance before the race. They discover swim conditions are excellent with no currents, comfortable water temperatures and a calm surface. Many of the athletes at the Red Rock Las Palomas/Rocky Point Triathlon are first timers attracted to the perfect swim conditions and beautiful resort in a safe coastal town. This course suits them perfectly.

The sleepy beach community is safe for tourists with excellent local police and security. Crime in Las Palomas is actually lower than in Phoenix, Arizona. Many U.S. citizens own vacation property and retirement homes in the quiet little city known for its excellent local restaurants and colorful markets. Law enforcement in the area are helpful and friendly, anxious to spread the word about how pleasant and safe Puerto Penasco really is.

The storybook setting is an ideal destination for beach weddings like this one, just make sure the incoming tide doesn’t strand the bride and groom on a sand bar!

Athletes from Arizona, Texas, California, New Mexico and as far away as Idaho and Ohio made the trip to the Rocky Point Triathlon. Despite the perfect setting, great accomodations and excellent course only 134 athletes completed the Olympic distance triathlon with another 188 finishers in the results for the sprint distance event. Red Rock also hosted a nice 5K and 10K run during the event for non-triathletes. The event is clearly a “best kept secret”.

The Las Palomas Beach and Golf Resort hosts the Red Rock Las Palomas/Rocky Point Triathlon. The resort features incredible views of the ocean and spectacular balconies worthy of any exotic coast around the world. It is a spectacular host hotel for the event.

Our entourage discusses the swim course and conditions on the balcony the night before the race during another picturesque sunset on the Sea of Cortez.

Athletes on balconies watch for feeding dolphins the night before the event as jet skiers return their craft before sunset. The golden light of the northern coast of the Sea of Cortez is spectacular in the evening.

The pool area is quiet the night before race day as a few lingering athletes get race briefings and pick up their packets. The heated pools and hot tubs are popular for warming up after a night swim in the ocean.

Crews from the Red Rock Company, event producers for the Las Palomas/Rocky Point Triathlon, use jet skis to pull swim buoys out onto the course on race morning. The course marking is excellent making the event a great first time open water swim experience.

An early athlete sets up his transition area next to the hotel at the top of the beach. There is a short run up a sand berm to the first transition after the swim finish. The run uses the golf course across from the transition area. It’s a scenic, sunny but rolling and exposed venue that can be challenging.

If you designed the perfect triathlon swim venue, this would be it: A shallow beach with firm sand, clear, warm water, calm conditions and excellent course marking with plenty of lifeguards. Course sighting was easy in clear, calm waters.

One of the first age category waves hits the swim course as the next wave waits for their start horn. Notice the athlete at the far right cutting the tangent to the fist buoy to save time and distance, a good strategy.

Mexican Coast Guard Units used rigid inflatable boats to patrol the swim course along with race volunteers and staff on jet skis, kayaks and paddle boards. Swim safety was excellent and the large, rectangular swim course meant crowding was not an issue.

The swim “bubble” as wave starts converge near the swim finish where athletes stand in the shallow water to remove the top of their wetsuit in preparation for the run up the beach to T1.

Terra McCreight (left) hits the beach with another group of athletes from her wave start. This was Terra’s first open water, ocean Olympic distance swim.

Adam McCreight beaches after his wave arrives on shore. Adam and Terra organized a large group of athletes to travel from Tucson to Rocky Point for the Red Rock Rocky Point Triathlon.  

The Olympic distance athletes did three laps of an out and back bike course with sprint distance athletes doing two. Winds picked up late in the day challenging athletes who were on the course late. Here an athlete negotiates the turnaround before heading back out on her second of three loops.

Dr. Cheri Ong, a surgeon originally from Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia now living in Tucson, Arizona, negotiates the turnaround to head out for another loop of the bike course as the winds gather.

The open expanse of the Sonora Desert butts right into the north coast of the Sea of Cortez making for a barren bike course exposed to wind and heat. It is challenging but the multi-loop format makes the distance more digestible.

One of the race leaders storms into the second transition after completing three loops of the bike course for the Olympic distance, 24.8 mile ride. Athletes who got out of the water and off the bike course early had less wind to contend with.

Terra McCreight begins her third lap under rising winds. McCreight’s preparation for the race season was interrupted by a serious auto accident that she recovered from quickly to return to training.

Cheri Ong attacks the run. This was a pivotal race for Ong as she began to plan a number of events throughout the season. The surgeon balances the demands of a difficult profession against the training required for events like the Rocky Point Triathlon.

Terra McCreight and Cheri Ong exchange a high five as they pass on the run course late in the Olympic distance race.

Adam McCreight on the run. The rolling hills in the golf course took their toll on legs tired from battling the rising winds on the bike.

A tunnel for golf carts gave runners respite from the sun on the Olympic run course as they went to the bottom of the course for the run turnaround.

Water and sand were the theme of the entire course at Las Palomas. Nearly half the field at the Red Rock Las Palomas/Rocky Point Triathlon was doing their first triathlon here. It is a perfect event for first timers.

Crossing the golf course athletes got a moment of respite from the heat on the cool grass. This section headed to the top of the course where they turned left to finish the outer loop of the run. Athletes had frequent opportunities to see each other on the course with the multiple out and backs.

Terra McCreight covers the final few meters on the beach finish. The loose sand feels like wet cement on tired legs after the tough run of the Olympic distance event but the slip n’ slide at the finish makes it worth the effort.

Cheri Ong of Tucson makes the final trip across the beach to the finish in the Olympic distance event.

The Slip n’ Slide in the finish chute was popular after the warm conditions on the exposed run course.

Cheri Ong and Terra McCreight enjoy the beach after finishing the Red Rock Las Palomas/Rocky Point Triathlon.

The less PC attitude south of the border was apparent in the Tecate Beer tent as the Tecate girls were always ready to pose for fans.

The Red Rock/Las Palomas Triathlon is the spring break of triathlons. With a festive award ceremony and a perfect party setting the event is poised to grow as the word spreads about the great race organization, excellent course and fantastic venue. The Red Rock crew deserves credit for a job very well done at Las Palomas.

Heritage Flight Conference 2012.

March 9, 2012
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The Heritage Flight Conference provided an opportunity to meet air crews one on one and get a glimpse of flight demonstration operations up close. This A-10 pilot enjoys a cup of coffee before his morning flight demonstration.

Senior Airmen Dean (left) and Staff Sergeant Stacy (right) prepare data logs for an A-10 flight demonstration at Davis-Monthan, Arizona in Tucson, Arizona during the Heritage Flight Conference on March 4th, 2012. Both men wear the Oakley tactical specific sunglasses, a must in the Arizona sun.

Davis-Monthan AFB is a hub of A-10 operations and training for the entire USAF. This view of the A-10 close air support and forward air control aircraft shows it’s imposing GAU-8 Avenger 30mm cannon capable of firing the PRU-13B high explosive and -14B armor piercing projectiles up to 4,200 rounds per minute.

A-10 pilots may be the last generation of low-level ground attack combat pilots. These pilots fight with their “nose in the mud” at low altitudes where they are vulnerable to air defense weapons. They are superb stick and throttle men, constantly pulling high G loads and ringing their aircraft through every corner of its flight envelope.

Heritage Flight Conference provided a rare close up look at the incredible F-22 Raptor, the consummate air superiority aircraft. It’s net-centric, low observable capabilities enable it to dominate the battle space in the first 24 hours of a conflict.

 

Heritage Flight Conference gave us a chance to chat with the flight crews up close and get the insider’s perspective on their busy flight demonstration season. Here I fire questions at a flight crew member about his beautiful F-22 Raptor.

The F-16 Fighting Falcon or “Viper” as its pilots call it may be the single most successful fighter aircraft in the history of aviation. It takes its place alongside the P-51 Mustang as a truly great combat aircraft. Tucson is a hub of flight training operations for international F-16 pilots.

Another view of a pretty F-16 Viper ready to fly in the Heritage Flight formation. Notice the aircraft shelters in the background to protect the A-10′s and other aircraft at Davis-Monthan AFB from the sun.

Heritage Flight is about the history and legacy of aviation. This resplendent P-51D Mustang is a part of the Heritage flight. Its gleaming bare metal finish, invasion stripes, unit markings and even enemy victory tally below the canopy is a living record of aviation history.

The P-51 Mustang was a consummate multi role,  air superiority/escort fighter in WWII and after. It flew combat missions in every theater of the war and went on to fly in Korea. There was even as a special twin fuselage night fighter version. As recently as 30 years ago some third world air forces still operated old Mustangs. It first flew in 1940.

One of the Heritage Flight P-51D Mustangs parked on the flightline at Davis-Monthan AFB in Tucson, Arizona for 2012 Heritage Flight Conference.

This Mustang was a treat, an early P-51C version from before the development of the later bubble-canopy P-51D. Notice the older three-bladed propeller. This aircraft also had guns that fired through the propeller like older WWI era aircraft.

This could be a photo from Davis-Monthan AFB in the 1950′s. A beautiful pair of F-86 Sabres on the flight line at Heritage Flight. The F-86 was the first widely used US air superiority aircraft. It saw combat in Korea against MiG 15′s in jet-on-jet engagements and was used by international air forces as recently as 1994. They are beautiful, classic aircraft. A true fighter plane in every sense.

Phantoms Phorever. A rare sight in the U.S. today: A flight line of F-4s. The venerable F-4 Phantom in its many versions was an enormously successful multi-role aircraft used by many free world nations. These are QF-4E aircraft still in Air Force service with the 82nd Aerial Targets Squadron at Tyndall AFB, Florida.

These two F-22 Raptors wear the tail codes for the 53rd Test and Evaluation Group at Eglin AFB in Valparaiso, Florida. This unit has operated the Global Hawk and Predator RPV’s as well as nearly every frontline combat aircraft in the USAF arsenal.

A QF-4E Phantom of the 82nd Aerial Targets Squadron assigned to the 53rd Weapons Evaluation Group at Tyndall AFB in Florida. These aircraft provide the unusual role of being flying targets for weapons in areas like the White Sands Missile Range and the open areas of the Gulf of Mexico. They operate with unmanned aerial targets for testing. One of the aircraft in the squadron was actually flown by the famous Col. Robin Olds who lead the raid on the Thai Nguyen Steel Mill outside Hanoi in the Vietnam conflict.

There are about 150 remaining P-51 Mustangs flying. Some have been converted to TF-51 versions with two seats and sets of flight controls. After WWII surplus Mustangs sold for $2000. Now a restored P-51/F-51TF-51 is over a million dollars. This pretty two-seater is getting pre-flighted for Heritage Flight.

A Mustang stampede! It’s rare to see so many nice P-51′s together. Note the older “C” version closest to the camera with the three bladed propeller.

Every time I get to see one of these old F-4′s I wonder if it could be the last time. The F-4 holds a special place for most US aviation enthusiasts and seeing these beautiful examples was a real treat.  This QF-4E taxis to participate in Heritage Flight.

Major Henry Schantz (left), call sign “Shadow”, walks to his F-22 Raptor in preparation for another scintillating flight demonstration of the F-22.

A head-on view of Major Schantz returning from his flight demonstration in the F-22 Raptor.

A Heritage Flight formation with an F-22 Raptor, QF-4E Phantom and two P-51 Mustangs. It is challenging for pilots in dissimilar aircraft to fly in formation, especially for the QF-4E pilot who approaches the lower end of the aircraft’s speed envelope.

Heritage Flight pilots flew their entire demonstration routine at Heritage Flight Conference. This flyover was a spectacular opportunity to see these three unique types and gain perspective on the history of military aviation since the 1940′s.

Hope.

February 27, 2012
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By Tom Demerly.

Mimi the cat loves the sink.

I don’t believe in fairy tales. That I’ll admit to…

 This is a story of heartbreak, healing and coincidence so odd it makes my brain itch.

 Fred was my cat, my best friend. Every pet owner will tell you their pet is the best but Fred actually was. Horribly mistreated as a young cat Fred wound up with me after being rescued and cared for. He had only one functioning eye- his left eye- and was missing teeth. He was orange and white with the temperament of a cartoon character. A trifle overweight, Fred was a cookie-stealer. If you set your cookie down he would grab it with what teeth he had left, then settle for licking it. I lost a lot of cookies to Fred.

At night Fred would sit on the counter watching me do dishes or make tea. I would read to Fred, he liked the sound of a human voice. He loved books about African safaris. He also liked the BBC World News on the wireless. Fred would purr most times when you talked to him. If you asked him a question he wouldn’t say anything because cats can’t talk. At night Fred would sleep next to me, purring until one of us drifted off.

 

Even though Fred suffered terribly as a young cat something in his cat brain made him a kind animal. His default reaction was kindness. If Mia, my little cat, would attack him, he would simply lay down. If she attacked him again he would make a low rumbling noise and walk away. Fred outweighed Mia by ten pounds, but he never took advantage of it. Fred was wired for kindness. In this life that is a miracle.

 Eventually the things Fred suffered as a young cat caught up with him. He was old, no one knows how old. In his later days he moved slower, stayed in one place more. He never complained. One morning I woke up and Fred wasn’t in bed anymore. He got up early, walked downstairs and lay down near his water dish. He didn’t look good. I called my friend T.J. to take him to the emergency vet. T.J. lives about 15 minutes away but was at my house in 10. I phoned the veterinary emergency hospital 3 miles away and gave them Fred’s vitals. Then Fred looked at me, meowed twice, and died.

Frederick and Mia.

I cleared his airway, gave him mouth to mouth- all those dramatic things. I picked him up and we drove to the vet. The vet immediately went to work trying to revive him. But Fred didn’t want to come back. He was gone. His little paws turned white.

The vet brought him into an exam room with me. He was on a white blanket. And I was absolutely alone.

 When I got home my little cat Mia, only 3, knew something was wrong. Fred wasn’t there. She had an odd look on her face and she lay on the counter in Fred’s spot in a little ball. For three days.

 My friend Billy at work is one of those lads whose wild blonde hair is always messy, but always looks right. He rode a big motorcycle, won his age category in triathlons. Billy decided to quit and move on. It was a blow since he brought expertise and personality to our workplace. They gave Billy a send off at a local pizza place. I normally don’t go to these things but Billy, being a good guy, was a special case.

Fred on the left before he passed away, Mimi the day I brought her home on the right.

I was hurting from Fred being gone. Life sucked. I was shuffling around the outside of the giant hole people fall into when they believe life is filled with suffering and loss. I hung a few toes over the edge of the hole. I felt like I was being sucked in. I pulled it together and went to the pizza place. Everyone was enjoying the banter, my friend Pete was there and a nice sales rep named Travis.

People said they were sorry about Fred. Then Billy told me a story.

“I found this kitten when I was out running.” I felt myself stepping closer to the hole. It was going to be one of those bad stories where he found a cat and it died. I couldn’t hear too many more of those. He continued: 

“It’s eye was hangin’ out of its head, it was in really bad shape man…” God, can it get any worse? This sucks. “So I picked it up and took it to the animal hospital.” He took a pull on his beer.

Then it struck me. 

“Hey, which eye was the cat missing?” I asked Billy.

“Ahh, right eye.” I felt an odd charge.

“What color was this cat?” I had to nip the onset of hopefulness in the bud. In this life, hopefulness only leads to disappointment. Things don’t work out.

“It’s orange and white.”

 On the same day Fred, the left eyed orange and white cat, died Billy found another orange and white kitten in a field with only its left eye. Run the variables. That is statistically bizarre.

But it gets weirder.

Billy took the one eyed kitten to an animal rescue run by a vet student named Gabe. They named the cat “Mimi”. They did an operation, removed Mimi’s damaged right eye. The same bad eye Fred had. They nursed her back to health. She put on weight, started playing with the other cats. She was oddly good natured according to Gabe.

I went to see this kitten. Gabe brought her into an exam room with me. Then he left the room, closing the door behind him with me and this little one-eyed orange cat inside. 

The cat walked around, jumped on the counter. It was extremely small. Only 7 months they said. It sniffed, moving its little head swiftly to compensate for only having one eye. Sunlight filtered through a window in the room.

 

I sat there, this little kitten with one eye on the counter across the room from me. The absurdity of what I was doing hit me. A grown man. Sitting here like an idiot with an abandoned kitten with one eye. My cat died. It was gone. Maybe I should just deal with it. Life sucks and then you die. The kitten kept its distance. Quite some time passed. Why did they leave me in this room so long?

Then a thought entered my head, from nowhere. No one can hear me.

“Say,” I said to the cat, “Do you know Frederick the Cat?” Mimi went wild. She walked in tight circles and meowed three times. She leapt from the counter to the exam table, then from the exam table into my lap. She rolled over on her back in my arms, looked at me with that one eye and meowed one more time. Then she closed her eye.

 I filled out some forms and brought Mimi home. She knew where the litter box and the food were. She jumped up on the counter and sat in the sink. She tried to play with Mia the Cat but Mia couldn’t figure out who this new cat was and hid in the corner. Like she had seen a ghost. Mimi listened to the radio and fell asleep when I read to her.

Yesterday I was petting Mimi’s kitten fur. Before Fred died he had a sore on his left shoulder near his scapula bone. It was a raised bump that had to be drained of fluid. It was almost an inch long and about a quarter inch wide.

Mimi has a little scar there.

17 Hours: Ford Ironman Arizona 2011.

November 22, 2011
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A gallery of images from the 2011 Ford ironman Arizona on November 20, 2011 in Tempe, Arizona.

Sacrifice.

November 14, 2011
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The scars of brotherhood.

Seven months ago he gave his brother a kidney. Next week he does Ironman.

Ironman, university student, athlete, TriSports.com employee… organ donor: 26 year old Antonio Soto.

Soto is a quiet and dignified lad. His voice floats to your ear on a Latin accent. He is given to understatement. Think Enrique Iglesias combined with Mark Allen. As Antonio and I chat he hands me celery sticks, alternates between looking me in the eye and glancing to the floor.

Antonio’s mother died when he was one and a half. His brother, Gerardo, was only six months. Gerardo contracted SLE or systemic lupus erythematosus, commonly called “lupus”. He fought the disease for years until he was forced onto a dialysis machine for 6 hours a day. For nine months. During the search for a kidney Antonio was initially disqualified as a match. Another donor was found, but fell through since they smoked. A subsequent blood test revealed that Antonio was, in fact, a match to donate a kidney to his brother.

I wondered how Soto’s brother asked him to donate a kidney. “He didn’t”, Soto whispered. “He didn’t want me to donate it.”

“How did you make the decision to give away a kidney?” I’ve never asked an athlete this question before.

Soto glanced back to the floor, pulled another celery stick from the baggy. “You have to know… what is your priority? No sport is as important as my brother.”

Antonio Soto training east of Tucson near Gates Pass. He owns a 10:10:00 Ironman PR and races Ford Ironman Cozumel next week in Mexico.

The Soto sense of family emanates from Tigre Soto, Antonio and Gerardo’s father. Tigre was a competitive canoeist, a difficult and dangerous sport of negotiating rapids in a highly maneuverable hybrid of canoe and kayak. He sometimes trained with Antonio in the back of his canoe. It is obvious those early days between the Soto men forged tight bonds- the type of bonds rare in today’s families.

This weekend I rode with Antonio- me on the back of a camera moto, Antonio on his Giant Trinity triathlon bike. The ride was a combined photo op/meet and greet for BH sponsored athletes Eneko Llanos and Angela Naeth. You may remember Llanos for his gutsy battle in Kona with winner Chris McCormack. Antonio rode like a gentleman through town then, when we reached the rollers of McCain Loop, he went to the front. The group dwindled. On the narrow, curvy road riders slid off the back in ones and twos. I asked my moto pilot, Adam McCreight, to take us to the front. A 50 M.P.H. acceleration on our BMW moto pulled us by flailing riders. There were only six men in the lead group. I looked at our speedometer. On a shallow climb we were going 27 M.P.H. Uphill.

Antonio was on the front. Llanos on his wheel. Four men hung on. They looked under pressure. Antonio looked quite relaxed.

On November 27, 2011, 12 days from now, Antonio is racing Ford Ironman Cozumel. Seven months after giving away a kidney. How will losing a kidney affect Antonio’s Ironman? “It won’t” he tells me, “The body adjusts. As long as you drink enough water and do the right things, there is no difference.”

Antonio takes another celery stick from the bag. “It is no problem. Just a race…” It occurs to me, I’ve never heard another Ironman say it quite that way.

Antonio Soto is a member of the TriSports.com retail staff here in Tucson, Arizona.

Work Day.

November 12, 2011
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On the back of Adam McCreight's BMW 1200 GS for TriSports.com in Tucson, Arizona.

I tell stories.

 My job for TriSports.com is collecting and telling our stories. Here is a typical day:

 TriSports.com is the world’s largest online triathlon retailer. We ship swim, bike and run products to every continent- including Antarctica. Because we are the largest in our industry we face the challenge of running a business for which there is no existing business model. Debbie and Seton Claggett, founders of TriSports.com, nearly invented the category of online triathlon sales. At the “pointy end of the bayonet” we create the way this business does business. It’s a challenge since much of what we do, especially in marketing, hasn’t been done in our industry. Some of what we do is create media for ourselves and our vendors. It is a huge “value added” for companies doing business with us.

 Gail Leveque, a talented Ironman, triathlete and Director of Special Events for TriSports.com asked me to do a photo shoot with BH Bikes’ top pros Eneko Llanos and Angela Naeth. Llanos won the Memorial Hermann Ironman, Texas in May with a strong 8:08:20. Naeth is an heir apparent to the highest levels of triathlon with a recent win at the 70.3 Ironman event in Boulder, Colorado where she had the fastest women’s bike split. The ride would take in McCain Loop here in Tucson, Arizona, crossing over Gates Pass. Members of our cycling and triathlon clubs were invited to join the ride and photo op.

At the beginning of a photo op on a cool, overcast morning shooting photos of Angela Naeth and Eneko Llanos.

I photograph rides from the back of a motorcycle. My “moto pilot”, the Euro-term for the guy who drives the motorcycle, is Adam McCreight. McCreight has travelled the world, lived in Oman, Abu Dhabi, Pakistan, Dubai, Qatar and Bahrain. He’s been riding motorcycles since he was 14. This year he took 2nd in the “B” Class Arizona Motorcycle Racing Association Season. In addition to being an excellent moto pilot Adam is an easy guy to work with. He is calm, level headed and soft spoken. Perhaps most importantly, at well over 6’ tall Adam outweighs me, a key factor for a moto-pilot/photographer pair on a camera bike.

 Adam uses a 2007 BMW R1200 GS built in Berlin, Germany by BMW Motorrad. The bike has a 2 cylinder, horizontally opposed boxer engine, not unlike the engine favored by Subaru in their high-performance Impreza AWD models. The bike has smooth acceleration from low gears and a comfortable, stable, upright riding position. It’s also quiet so it doesn’t disturb cyclists and allows Adam and I to communicate easily.

 The demands on a camera moto driver are unique since we spend a lot of time riding slow next to bicycles and I do a lot of moving around on the back to get different camera angles. The bike must be geared well for low speed stability and the pilot has to be alert to road hazards and keep the bike steady at low speeds. It’s particularly dangerous since the best photos are usually shot from the wrong side of the road 8-10 feet from cyclists. On a rolling, curvy road open to traffic the risk of a head-on collision is high.

"Chuckie V", Chuck Veylupek, is an elite level triathlete, cyclist, coach and character. You may remember him from his appearance in the network Ironman broadcast when he wore a mohawk. Chuckie V lived across the hall from me at the Olympic Training Center in Colorado Springs in 1990. He was another moto pilot on our ride this morning, providing technical support for riders.

Before each sortie McCreight and I have a conversation about what my objectives are for the shoot and about the roads conditions. His primary job is to keep us and the cyclists safe, his secondary job is putting us in position for the best photos. The challenges Adam faces on most of our shoots are different than riding with professional cyclists in the Tour de France who are accustomed to being around camera motos. The recreational cyclists we ride with aren’t used to having a motorcycle ten inches from them at 30 M.P.H. or at 7 M.P.H. on a steep climb. They want to wave at the cameras and get nervous if the moto gets too close. Because of that, and the open roads, we have to allow an additional margin of safety, picking and choosing photo ops during the ride and often giving away the best shots in the interest of safety.

 This weekend’s photo shoot also served as practice for shooting the Ford Ironman Triathlon in Tempe, Arizona next weekend on Sunday, November 20. Adam and I scored a rare photo pass for the bike course courtesy of Debbie Claggett. We’ll be shooting athletes from the top pros like Eneko Llanos to our own athletes for our TriSports University magazine section on TriSports.com.

The view from the back seat.

The Ironman Airmen of Tucson, Arizona.

November 11, 2011
Fiction Stories.
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An HH-60G Pave Hawk from Davis-Monthan AFB in Tucson, Arizona. Photo: Tom Demerly.

 Future, 2012:

18:52 Hr.s Local, 14:52 Hr.s GMT: NATO No Fly Zone, Eastern Mediterranean.

Major Dave Morris reached between his legs, grabbed the yellow handle and pulled. There was an explosion, an elephant jumped on his shoulders, another on his chest and everything went black.

Morris’ F-16 suffered a bird-strike, a pelican slammed into his intake causing the turbine fan to disintegrate. The explosion tore through his F-16’s quad redundant fly-by-wire flight control system. He pulled the handle on his ACES II ejector seat; the canopy blasted upward, rockets under his seat firing.  His F-16 Viper “departed”, leaving controlled flight as it pitched up past its maximum angle of attack, stalled and dropped like the eleven tons of junk it had instantly become.

Morris broke two vertebrae from the awkward angle of ejection. He floated to the ground under his parachute in sudden silence following the chaos of ejecting. There was an explosion a mile and a half away where his crippled aircraft rammed into the ground. He was alone. The sun was setting. He was injured in territory controlled by insurgents.  A live NATO pilot, a U.S. pilot, was a powerful bargaining tool.

21:19 Hr.s Local, 17:19 Hr.s GMT: Incirlik Hava Ussu (Incirlik Air Base), Incirlik, Turkey.

Two hundred ten statute miles away five super athletes from the 48th Rescue Squadron of Davis-Monthan AFB next door to us in Tucson, Arizona, pull on their Multicam uniforms, tactical rigs, Ops-Core ballistic helmets and grab their suppressed M4 rifles. They run to a waiting HH-60G Pave Hawk helicopter from Davis-Monthan’s elite 55th Rescue Squadron, rotors already turning.  The Air Force rescue pilot pulls pitch on his collective, offsetting with his left pedal as the big grey Pave Hawk helicopter leaps into the air to its insertion altitude of 100 feet AGL. It’s the same helicopter I wave to at lunch time when it flies over TriSports.com on training sorties. The helicopter wears a big, grinning shark mouth painted on its nose.

Pararescue operators from the 48th Rescue Squadron begin a training sortie in an HH-60 Pavehawk from the 305th Rescue Squadron at Davis-Monthan AFB in Tucson, Arizona.

The helicopter flies a zigzag pattern toward the downed pilot’s beacon from his AN/PRQ-7 survival radio. The rescue pilots use the Raytheon AN-AAQ-29A forward looking infra-red (FLIR) system to watch the terrain in front of them in total darkness. The system was developed by engineers at Raytheon here in Tucson, Arizona.

 An unmanned MQ-9 Reaper drone has already diverted from its surveillance orbit to Major Morris’ last known position. The Reaper finds Morris with its gimbal mounted infra-red camera, his IR strobe flashing brightly with a light frequency invisible to the naked eye. At the same time the drone’s RWR (radar warning receiver) goes off so does the one in Pedro 86, the HH-60G Pave Hawk rescue helicopter. A deadly SA-7 surface to air missile (SAM) search radar has illuminated the sky, searching for targets. The pilot of Pedro 86 edges his stick forward, falling to 30 feet AGL altitude at over 150 M.P.H. to get under the radar. The ground becomes a glowing green blur through his FLIR display.

“Scalpel 31, I’ve got loud music on the RWR from a SAM site gone active.” The pilot tells the PJ (Pararescue Jumper) team leader on the intercom. “We need to insert about 8 clicks from the objective to avoid targeting. Can you hump it from there?”

In the back of Pedro 86 the elite Pararescue Team, call sign “Scalpel 31”, consults a map and their GPS units. “Roger that Pedro, we can run in. Confirm BEMT (beginning early morning twilight).”

“Ahhh, I have my BEMT as 06:11 local.” The Pararescue team has to run five miles across mixed terrain in the dark with a full combat load to rescue the downed pilot, treat his injuries, and then carry him back in less than 6 hours. If the sun comes up before they can be extracted they must dig a lay-up position and hide until the following night. They aren’t sure the pilot can survive his injuries until then. Despite millions of dollars of technology this has become a foot race for Major Morris’ life.

Pararescue units next door to TriSports.com at Davis-Monthan Air Force Base are among the most elite rescue units- and athletes- in the world. They are a combination of Special Operations soldier, advanced paramedic and endurance athlete unmatched anywhere among first responders. They rescue downed pilots, hurricane disaster victims, lost hikers and accident victims no other rescue team can reach.

Pararescue candidates do PT in the "gig pit" during their indoctrination phase.

 02:40 Hr.s Local, 22:40 Hr.s GMT: Grid Zone 37 Sierra, Easting 370327.01 m East, Northing 3873511.8 m North: Syrian Desert East of Salamiyah.

Scalpel 31, the five man Pararescue team running through the night to reach downed pilot Major Dave Morris have run 9 minute miles carrying 45 pound loads, their weapons and their folding extraction litter. Using advanced land navigation and terrain association skills along with GPS, they locate Major Morris, calling him on his survival radio. After a classified verification process to assure Major Morris’ identity and that he hasn’t fallen into insurgent hands the rescue team moves in. A final verification of Major Morris’ identity and four of the PJ’s establish a defensive perimeter while the fifth stabilizes Major Morris and attaches him to the folding litter.

After an hour long jog carrying Major Morris through the desert night Pararescue team Scalpel 31 is at their extraction point. Two A-10 Thunderbolt II’s also from Davis-Monthan orbit over head providing security for the extraction helicopter. Before the sun comes up Major Morris is in the Pave Hawk helicopter on his way home.

+ 24 hours, 09:35 Hr.s Local, 14:35 Hr.s GMT. Undisclosed Location, CONUS (Continental United States).

Half a world away when Major Morris’ wife gets a visit from two Air Force officers they tell her, to her relief, “Your husband’s aircraft went down, but he has been rescued and is going to be OK.” She asks the officers, “How did he get out?” They tell her, “Some of our guys were out for a run and picked him up.”

An HH-60G Pavehawk from Davis-Monthan AFB photographed over my workplace, TriSports.com, here in Tucson, Arizona this past week.

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