10-13-19 | Pigs on the Wing | A Golden Sled Ride

We came, we saw and we all fell out.

The towplane arrived at 11am and the wave campers were eager to fly. I took the first tow and boy was it fun to fly a 1-26 again! It just flies so wonderfully, feels so right. The moment we broke ground, the controls responded perfectly and I settled in for the long tow. The vario hummed along a happy tone and the valley gently fell below.

By now the clouds started to thin, but still covered about 6/8 of the area. It looked like there was an opening near Mt.Washington, but we felt better about towing above the overcast than below. We did a big arcing circle above Gorham to 4,500ft and then headed along the lee side of the Presidential Range.

We quickly climbed up to 6000ft and yet we still had a long ways to go. The wave did not look spectacular ahead; the wind was just not all that strong today. It did look like there may have been a bit of a foehn gap, but I was not at all inclined to get there low. Besides, I am the one who insists that when towing to wave, that you should release in wave. But we kept climbing up and up and figuring that the L-19 is no Egret, I finally released at 7,500ft, above the clouds and well short of the auto-road.

The view was absolutely breathtaking with Mt.Washington commanding the land. Even though I was slightly above the peak, my eyes felt like they leveled with this imposing hunk of granite. The mountains were skirted by a gentle thin sheet of white clouds. The air was mostly smooth, albeit with bits of lift and sink along the way. I pushed the nose down to 60 mph and hunted around for wave.

Once I made it over to the clear air, there was no joy finding any lift. Looking over toward Wildcat mountain, the clouds looked like they were working. They were stationary and the tops were curling over. This profile was suggestive of rotor, along with little wisps that continually puffed a little ahead of the cloud. This looks promising.

But man, the clouds were far away. This would put me on the edge of a reasonable glide to Gorham. But it does look promising. Looking below my right wing, I saw the field at the base of the auto-road. Having walked it before and flying a glider that can land in half of a postage stamp, I was confident in my alternative option. It looked good enough ahead to give it a go.

Slowly bleeding away altitude, I got to the nice looking clouds at Wildcat.

Absolutely… nothing. Nada. Zip. A sweeping turn and not a shred of lift.

I turned around. Now I was below the peaks of the mountains and the Gorham valley was well off my nose.

A shred of doubt entered my mind whether the ship could make the glide back to the airport from here. It looked okay, but I wasn’t going to just drive back on a hope and a prayer. But at the same time I wasn’t eager about landing at the base of the mountain and having to undo the wonderful taping job that Steve slaved away on the previous day.

I kept a close eye on Pine Mountain and the valley ahead, watching how my glide angle was changing. And I whipped out my trusty Garmin to get a solid read on the distance ahead to check my work.

Seven miles to go and I was at 3200ft above the airport. A quartering tailwind. I could go a ways and still remain in solid glide of the field at the base of the auto-road; might as well see how the air will be ahead.

No major sink and the glide angle kept improving. Pine Mountain slowly fell in relation to the canopy and now had a solid glide back home. Along the way I zagged over to the Carters, to see if maybe the wind was strong enough to ridge soar and stay up for longer. Nope, just gentle sink over the mountains.

At this point, I knew that my flight was probably going to end soon. With the airport totally made, I relaxed, opened my eyes and took in the scenery around me. This masterpiece of creation that was below me, above me, and all around me, for all but a few moments, made me feel fully part of this tenuous fabric of space and time. I was one with the air and the land.

The glider silently sailed, down and down. Crossing several hundred feet over the trees below, I was now right by the airport, searching around for maybe a little thermal or rotor. Sure enough there was a little movement of air, good for several turns but no more. 508 gleefully indulged in this play, but alas our time was cut short. I entered downwind and committed to land.

It is so freakin’ fun to land a 1-26! I kept my pattern tight, high, and fast, a good practice for this kind of site. On final, I fully opened the brakes and put the ship into a slip, keeping myself well high of the parked glider at the beginning of the runway, but able to dump the aircraft out of the sky.

Full spoiler, full slip, kick it out in ground effect, hold it off, hold it off, kiss the ground with the main wheel and the tail, right rudder to taxi off to the side, the thud of the skid coming down and gently rocking the ship over small bumps, the slight biting odor of burnt rubber, opening the canopy, and finally the smile that comes from the satisfaction of having flown the most fun glider that exists.

It was a little after noon. I handed the ship over to Steve, who diligently went ahead prepping the glider for his own shakedown flight. I in turn started to pack up my things to go home. My trip was quite short and mostly to help the club get the 1-26 up and set up for the several members who will be working on their badges over the week. After packing up all my cold weather gear, I hit the road at 1:30pm for the long ride back to Philadelphia to be back in time for a Statistics exam the following morning.

Along the way, I saw the mountains, forests, valleys and towns gently fade into a flat, sprawling mass of humanity. Crossing over the George Washington Bridge, seeing the glass, steel, concrete, and brick skyscrapers glittering in the distance, cars honking in bumper-to-bumper traffic leaving the Giants game from MetLife Stadium, it was hard to square away what was actually real. The world from which I came from or the world that I was going to.

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