The Bill Moyes Flight of the Year Award
In memory of Bill Moyes, founder of Moyes Gliders, we're proud to honour the most inspiring hang gliding stories from around the world. Whether it’s a flight that left you in awe, brought a deep sense of accomplishment, or created an unforgettable moment — we want to hear your story.
Congratulations to our December winner, Rick Warner – USA
What began with lightning exploding a pine tree into a shower of glowing embers would ultimately lead to one of the most memorable flights of the season. When wildfire smoke shut down the traditional Labor Day pilgrimage to the Owens Valley, an unexpected opportunity appeared. With plans suddenly rewritten, attention turned to a different challenge — the classic Laguna to Crestline flight across Southern California.
Here is his story:
By Rick Warner
Laguna to Crestline
My Laguna to Crestline Flight on September 1, 2025 (and a few key events leading up to it) Lightning struck and detonated the pine from its core spewing glowing embers of light in all directions like an extravagant chandelier.
A week before Labor Day weekend, the Garnet Fire was set ablaze in the Central Western Sierras. As it eventually consumed almost 60,000 acres- it gushed particulates into the air for hundreds of miles down wind and directly into the Owens Valley. This forced the cancellation of our Owens Valley flying plans over Labor Day Weekend. Broken free from the ruthless seduction of the Owens Valley I had the mental clarity to consider other flying options.
Garnet Fire: Saturday August 31, 2025.
As it turns out the forecast that weekend close to home in Southern California was excellent with above-average dry instability and convergence setting up from San Diego to Palm Springs. Sunday was looking like the best day to fly from a San Diego site, so I had Friday and Saturday to make the most of what I could at Crestline, San Bernardino.
It was my flight on Friday that needs mention as it connected the dots and contributed to make my big Sunday flight successful. For years I have been inspired by local SoCal legend Owen Morse as he routinely completed out and back milk runs from Crestline beyond Keller Peak and the chasm of badlands. Each time I spoke to Owen after he returned from the fae kingdom of San Gorgonio, he would speak with his eyes wide open yet relaxed like he had just returned from a day spa. Illuminated with Gorgonio aura, he would speak of communing with bald eagles in big smooth circles with the VG strapped and how he would linger indefinitely under fluffy cues while breathing crisp pine air that rose gently from the moon-ice-kissed peaks. While it takes many thermals to get to Gorgonio, it's a 34 minute straight shot glide back. Hungry for what’s real, I seeked firsthand experience.
On Friday I set out to reach San Gorgonio and had the best flying mate I could ask for, Owen Morse! He was more than gracious to share the radio frequency with me. I launched crestline and slowly worked my way east to Keller Peak at the edge of the great chasm of badlands. When I got to 11,000 feet MSL, I had the altitude I needed to safely cross the valley, and at least make it to a landing site on the east side. I made the crossing while keeping a landing site on glide and found myself traversing the length of little San Gorgonio Ridge at 6000 feet MSL. I was out of radio contact until I found the nectar taking me to a more comfortable 10,000 feet which soon turned into 13,000 feet.
Chasm of badlands with San Gorgonia center and on the horizon.
At that time I heard from Owen that he had already flown over San Gorgonio and was already flying home past Keller peak, about 8 minutes into his 34 minute glide. I knew I started late in the day and conditions were not going to stay good for much longer, so I flew with haste straight north to San Gorgonio peak staying high the whole time. Magnificent Beauty! How Remote! The bald white sand peak was inescapably broad like the moon's surface and surrounded by unlandable tiger country.
San Gorgonio Peak.
Lift was abundant and easy to predict, with the airmass flowing from north to south into the ridge creating an obvious band of lift marked with fluffy cues. Not wanting to land on the moon or in tiger country, I appreciated the ability to stay high.
San Bernardino Peak.
I stopped to milk thermals as I made my way down the ridge from San Gorgonio at 11,500 feet to San Bernardino Peak. The cloud base was at 13,500, so I had about a 1000 feet band to play with to stay safe and legal. I embarked on a final glide at San Bernardino peak at 13,000 feet MSL and didn’t turn once all the way back to Andy Jackson Airpark. This was my best flight I’ve had at Crestline and one to remember. Little did I know at the time that it was this experience that gave me the experience to pull an even bigger move on Sunday!
On Saturday I had a short and uneventful flight at Crestline, and spent the evening planning the next day’s grand adventure. I spoke to legends Johnathan Deitch and Butch Peachy about Sunday’s forecast and they confirmed that it will be a good day to attempt a convergence flight from San Diego. I called up Owen and we each said to each other “I’ll fly if you fly”, along with Butch and Sue. I can’t speak for Owen but I was joking when I suggested we’d fly to Crestline (Andy Jackson Airpark)! What's a flight without a reach-goal? Our fate was sealed when celebrity Jamie Sheldon, and the world’s best club president and LZ lawn guru Luke Berger offered to drive for us. How lucky are we to have pilots drive for us?
On Sunday morning while driving to Horse we were 30 minutes away when Butch consulted the forecast and in his sage-wisdom decided that it was best to go to Laguna. It took an extra 20 minutes to get to Laguna, which is time well spent for positioning with the convergence. This was a key decision that if not made would have likely not allowed us to launch.
My first time at Laguna, the sky was clear and the air was dry. There were already a few PGs in the air as we stood at the main hang glide launch which is also a tourist observation point on the west rim overlooking much of the Laguna Canyon. The launch had dozens of memorial name plates for the deceased. Confused about who died, I was somewhat relieved to learn it was a memorial to fallen road bikers, not pilots! We decided to drive 2 minutes up the dirt road from the main launch and use the more gentle sloped launch above.
Laguna Canyon Observation Point, Fallen Biker Tribute, and HG Launch.
Late to the main event, it was about 11:15 when we pulled the gliders off the cars. We could see faint clouds forming about 15 miles west (and behind the Laguna Valley) marking the convergence setting up. The launch cycles were on and it was clear that we should be in the air as soon as we can. The two PGs skyed out and headed north. About 40 minutes after arriving Owen launched first and explored the bowl. I launched about 15 minutes after him at 12:10 PM and took the launch thermal to his altitude about 800 feet above launch. Butch and Sue were not in a rush to be in the air, so Owen and I did not wait for them. We worked together and fanned out covering more ground searching for anything that would get us to a decent altitude.
Moments after launching, convergence setting up off my nose.
With a south wind Owen and I worked our way north along the Laguna Canyon ridge soaking in as much lift as we could from the south facing spines along the way. We didn’t find anything worthwhile. The furthest north end of the valley constricts and makes a venturi dead end. Owen and I scratched everywhere on the edge of the venturi’s mouth. Getting sucked in would be an expected sink out. Thirty minutes went by since the late launch and I had thought the moonshot goal of Andy Jackson dead. Before I knew it my scratching had brought me to my minimum altitude needed to glide to the nearest good LZ. I made the decision to head to the LZ which was on the east side of the valley, just at the base of what looked like a trigger. The line I flew across the valley was lofty and I ended up with enough altitude to fly over the trigger once before entering the landing pattern.
To my surprise, this was the trigger I had been searching for. It was a south pointing spine that emerged from an upwind flat plane where two valleys converged. This thermal took me above Granite Peak to about 8500 feet MSL and with the valley floor at 2500 MSL I finally had the
altitude to jump to the next northern range and begin my XC journey.
Getting saved by the spine trigger with the LZ off my right wing tip.
To recount, it was when I decided to fly to the LZ to land that I last saw Owen who was at least 800 feet higher than I was. When I left granite peak I had assumed he had already found his boomer and was ahead of me by at least 5 minutes. It was not until after the flight that I discovered that he had an even more impressive low save and comparably glorious exit north from the valley. At the moment I left Granite peak I was actually a few minutes ahead of him. Even when he very soon caught up with blazing speed and passed me with a large margin I never saw him for the rest of the flight.
Leaving granite peak I could see the convergence about 15 miles to my west and over higher woodland with difficult retrieval. Executing my best option to inch closer to the convergence I flew on glide about 6 miles northwest to connect with the Volcan Mountain County Preserve Range whose peaks averaged 5200 MSL and ran for 12 miles due north to Warner Springs.
Leaving granite peak with the Volcan Range dead center and the convergence emerging in the distance.
The Volcan range had light ridge lift with occasional weak broken thermals. I stopped once at the VOR at ridge height to momentarily get 900 hundred feet above the ridge and soon after settled to about 600 feet above the ridge. This was low enough to induce a strong and sustained pucker factor and required resolute dedication to my knock-it-off altitudes to ensure I could make it to my landing zones. To my surprise I was getting a 35:1 L/D with occasional zero sink and lift segments. I tested the lift segments twice with single turns. The first turn gained me 30 feet of altitude, and the second one lost me 100 feet. If I continued to take circles, I risked losing an additional 200 - 300 feet, forcing me to divert away from the most optimal position on the ridge in order to safely reach a landing zone. After the first few miles I felt like I could understand and trust that the local airmass was going to continue to deliver. I flew the terrain straight down the Volcan range like I was surfing the bank of a river flowing down hill and spilling into the lower altitude Warner flats. I was getting flushed by the Volcans!
Low and clenched over the Volcans. Getting flushed into Warner Springs. Lake Henshaw barely visible center left of Warner Springs and just below Palomar Mountain.
Leaving the Volcans and entering the flats of Warner Springs I guessed I had about two minutes at standard sinkrate before I had to commit to one of the many excellent landing options. I felt content to land after having been relieved of a strong pucker and having made the most of my first Laguna flight in scratchy conditions.
I would not have much time to enjoy my relief as the moment I diverged from the Vulcans into the flats I abruptly found my first few beeps that had the anti-Volcan characteristics of sustained lift. I was maintaining 800 feet off the ground and was drifting northwest with the wind. I had time to think! While previously focused on the Volcan terrain I had lost track of the convergence. It was then I looked at the sky for the first time in 20 minutes and saw the line of clouds to my south extending almost directly overhead; extending north as far as the eye can see. As I rocked up to a more comfortable thermalling position a wave of joy swept over me. I knew this wasn’t just any thermal. I had been dumped right into the elusive Warner Springs Convergence. I had arrived! From 4000 feet MSL I catapulted to 10,000 feet MSL. I felt like newborn cub Simba held up by Rafiki and shown the pridelands for the first time. The unfamiliar yet welcoming lush territory was mine to roam freely. Directly to my northwest was the brilliant french polynesian blue Lake Henshaw with vibrant greenery surrounding it. I could see that the wind was blowing the opposite direction on the lake, signaling that I was in the convergence. To the north was Palmar Mountain, with the faint cloud street leading directly to giant fluffy cumulus clouds over its eastern spines.
Over lake Henshaw with a cloud street leading to Palomar Mountain.
Impatient with excitement, I left the vast expanse of lift and flew directly to the Eastern Palomar cumulus where I skied out to 13,000. While I was thermaling at Palomar, somewhere around 10,000 feet, I was welcomed into the sky by several hawks who were genuinely curious what sort of animal I could be to coexist in their realm.
After Palmar mountain I flew from cumulus to cumulus. I would sometimes get to the edge of the convergence and notice my drift changing so I occasionally crabbed my way back to stay centered. I got down to 8,500 feet MSL twice before establishing myself at 12,000 in the cloud street leading up the long broad slope to San Jacinto Peak. Nestled in this range and directly under my flight path is the popular mountain town of Idywyld where my grandparents had a cabin where I had spent many white christmases as a kid. From Idywyld it’s a 10 mile glide south, or east to get to the nearest easy retrieve landing zone. The land sloped upward north and east making low exits in those directions not possible. This territory called for a change of strategy. I slowed my average flying speed and flew the sky more conservatively to maintain my 12,000 feet from when I left the flat lands all the way to when I emerged over the crest of San Jacinto.
Cloud street leading over Idywyld and over San Jacinto Peak.
When I arrived at the prominent peak of San Jacinto the views were spectacular with flat lands surrounding me in most directions. I was not excited, rather I was three hours into my flight and felt dialed in. I felt calm and collected like a long-bearded Alaskan ship captain enduring a routine storm and keenly aware of the waves surrounding him. I was focused on the air masses to all sides of me. I would wait patiently, observe, and respond to every dynamic pocket of lift or sink that would present itself.
Palm Springs to the left. San Jacinto peak center.
I first left San Jacinto at 12,800 feet MSL and set out to cross the Banning pass. Within the first minute I got a bad feeling that something wasn't right. My sink rate felt too high and from my vantage point I could make out the shape of the cloud street extending over the banning pass a mile to my west. Not confident in my timing and not wanting to fly a sink line I decided to turn around while I still could and play it slowly and safely. After all I knew I had only one more trick to pull, to mount San Gorgonio. I returned to San Jacinto, this time from the north side where I got a close up view of the gorgeous jagged rocks. I worked my way around the west side and mounted the peak once again.
Up close and personal with the gorgeous rocks on the north side of San Jacinto after my failed crossing of the Banning Pass.
About 40 minutes had passed since my first attempt across Banning Pass. Just after 4:00 PM I thought I had maybe an hour and a half before the day shuts down. By then I could make out a faint cloud bridging across the pass so I took my opportunity and flew a lofty line across the pass, getting maybe 100 fpm sink for much of it.
Looking north on my second and successful crossing a small wispy (dead center) led the way.
I was mostly focused on my drift and biased my course “down stream” which led me to a particular spot on the foothills north of the Morongo Reservation on the other side of the pass. I found pockets of 50 fpm lift which I milked as best I could. After one thousand circles in weak but relatively organized lift I drifted into the only faint wispy cloud that was in the sky. I had once again been funneled right into the convergence! I didn’t see the faint wispy cloud while I was flying, I found it during a video review.
Making the jump back north to white topped San Gorgonio on the right with the cumulus.
Compared to Friday, the lift was slightly more broken this time, but with big clouds, the lift was still in predictable locations. I connected from San Gorgonio to San Bernardino Peak.
San G off the wing tip and San Jacinto far and center.
San Bernardino Peak on the left. Cues and lift forming away from the terrain.
I was at 12,000 feet still but it was 5:10 PM, which meant that the lift was due to shut down. I was all smiles, knowing that I had all I needed to get back to Andy Jackson airpark. I took a few more turns to get an extra few hundred feet and as soon as I felt the lift break I headed due west on final glide to Andy Jackson. As I did on Friday I didn't turn once and arrived at Andy Jackson 30 miles away with a comfortable 1000 feet AGL.
Calm and smooth flight back with sun beams reaching through the cloud layer.
The flight I had would not have happened if it weren’t for the inspiration of Owen Morse, sage wisdom of Butch Peachy, and the selfless gift of driving by celebrity Jamie Sheldon and LZ lawn guru Luke Berger whose support is undoubtedly fueled by passion we all have for the sport and the desire to have fun doing cool stuff. My flight was about 99 miles straight-line distance from take off to landing. My max altitude was about 13,500 feet MSL and I was in the air for 5 hours and 41 minutes.
Arriving at Andy Jackson Airpark.
The day’s candid crew from Left to Right: Butch, Owen, Sue, Rick, Jamie, Luke.
How to Enter:
- Write about your most inspiring flight (minimum 250 words).
- Include photos or videos to bring your story to life.
- Submit via the Dropbox link below:
- https://www.dropbox.com/request/hYqCEArKJSzSjaS2qcYK
- or email to: This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.
Note: Your flight must have taken place in this calendar year.
Prizes:
- Monthly winners will receive a $200 voucher and entry into the grand final.
- The grand final winner will get a $1000 voucher and their name engraved on the Bill Moyes Flight of the Year trophy!
- The winners will be chosen by the Moyes family. The monthly winners will be announced in the first week of each month, and the grand final winner will be revealed in January.
We can’t wait to see your stories! Fly high, share your journey, and celebrate the spirit of flight with us!
