In international competitions, the day before the first competition day is reserved for the Opening Ceremony. All of the teams get together, don their uniforms, march with the flag, and get welcomed by local dignitaries. It is a no-fly day; a good time to relax and get fully into a racing mindset.
In the morning, we worked on getting the team radio working at the team house. This will be the US team headquarters for the team captain and crew during the competition days. One of the challenges was making a sufficiently high antenna that would receive over long range. Noah and John Good were up for the task, fashioning an antenna and coaxial cable to mount on the roof of the house. They wanted to make the antenna mount even higher and looked for material to do so. It seemed like the bamboo growing on the grounds nearby would do well for this purpose. But before cutting anything down, John asked Akos, our Hungarian crew, to check in with the owners if this would be okay to do. Akos came back 15 minutes later and said it would be fine so long as they didn’t cut down the whole bamboo grove! Images of John Good with a chainsaw entered our minds and we had a big laugh!
Later we went out to the airport and did some final checks on the gliders. Everything is now perfect. We are really happy with the gliders! Usually it takes half of the competition to get the avionics and equipment working right. This is the challenge of having borrowed gliders on another continent. But all of our equipment is exactly where it needs to be on Day One and this is very satisfying.
We are very happy with Glider Rent, the group that owns the LS4s in the Netherlands. They got the ships nicely tuned and ready to go. Couldn’t ask for a better set up and we really appreciate that we have such nice gliders to race!
Later we went off into town to get stocked up on supplies. We now have enough water and oatmeal to survive an apocalypse! Afterwards we ate lunch at the local Hungarian burger joint. Surprisingly nice burgers!
We came back to the team house to rest and await John’s return from the Team Captain’s meeting. Once he returned, we met as a team and discussed final logistics and strategy. In the end, John conveyed several simple messages.
1) Stay safe.
2) The game is to fly with company; both as a team and other competitors. Don’t get cute.
3) It’s a marathon, not a sprint. Ups and downs don’t count toward much; consistency is what matters in the end.
Afterwards we were off to the Opening Ceremony. Here we got together as a team and marched as a group with all the other teams doing the same. Luke had the honor of being the US Team’s flag holder!
We listened to speeches by the local organizers, airport authorities, head of the Hungarian air-sports federation and the IGC representative. For entertainment, they had a fantastic aerobatic routine flown in a MDM Fox. The ceremony was well done and got across the desired effect. This is an international event where all the competitors represent their country at the highest level of their sport. It is an honor to be here.
Today was the fourth and final practice day. All of the team members are up to speed and are ready to go. The equipment is tuned and ready to race. The pilots are 100 percent race ready. We are really excited!
Since Noah need to scrutineer his ship in the morning, only JP and I were going to fly together today. Our wonderful crews, Luke and Jonathan did a great job prepping the gliders and getting them out to the grid. We had our morning briefing and headed on over to our ships.
The weather did not pan out as forecast. High cloud cover from precipitation to our SW came quicker than expected and kept the conditions from triggering locally. The organizers delayed launching the grid and then changed to a new task. This gave Luke a great opportunity to practice changing the task for the LX 9050 on SeeYou while on the grid. We were ready to go in no time!
While the grid was being postponed, it was a wonderful time for socializing. I met the Norwegian team with their ASW-15s. Noah and I flew with them quite a bit on the second practice day. We also got to hang out with the Australian juniors. They put their best pilot into the cockpit today, but unfortunately he won’t be flying in this competition. He aged out from racing in junior contests, at least in kangaroo years. He’ll be acting as their crew and moral support!
A little after 1pm, the Contest Director cancelled the launch. JP and I launched anyway since we wanted to keep fiddling with our equipment and found a couple thermals to scratch in north of the airport. We had no trouble staying up, though couldn’t climb much above 800 meters.
I was content to simply stay up, relax and enjoy the view. It is much less stressful being up here than on the ground. The LS-4 was flying so exquisitely well. It thermals like a dream. You can’t do wrong in a turn. It is happy going slow, it is happy going steep and fast. Some thermals need a little bit of finesse, but the glider works with you. It is said that the LS-4 is the black Labrador of sailplanes. This ship is especially friendly and affectionate.
The conditions slowly kicked off and we slowly worked our way to the north with other gliders. Much to our surprise, we managed to eventually climb up to 1600 meters and a cloud shelf opened up ahead.
I was pretty leery of taking much sporting risk, especially on the practice days. I didn’t want to deal with a retrieve and tire myself out when the points don’t even count. And my first reaction looking at the rain and cloud shelf was ugh. I didn’t want to get in there and then have it build into a storm and deal with thunderbolts and lightning. But upon second inspection, it was holding steady. The CAPE forecast in the morning was not very energetic. It shouldn’t blow up into anything ridiculous and so I joined JP in running the line.
And it worked great! We managed to maintain our altitude and bump along several smooth and wide thermals without much difficulty. No worries there at all. We went a ways into the turn sector, got to the edge of gliding distance from home and headed back.
We had no intention of going to the second turnpoint today. But it was clear that if we were racing today, there would have been a lot of strategic decision-making. Is it possible to make it around the shower to the other side? Would we need to hold and allow conditions to cook? For how long until the day collapses? Or maybe accept it’s a distance day and max out the first leg and do the best we can on the second? We discussed this with John Good, our team captain and worked on how the team can benefit from such information in flight.
After working our way closer to home, JP and I parted ways. He wanted to fly for longer. I tested out flying the ship at high speed and the vibration in the tail came back at 165 km/h. I wanted to get back home and diagnose that.
I practiced a final glide along the way. To my surprise, the MC4 glide completely fell apart. I ended up about 150 meters low at the steering turn and had to dig out from about 300 meters AGL near Szatymaz Airport. I was perfectly content to land there if I needed to; one of the nice things about the fact that we are taking gliders apart every day is that landing short is of not much greater hassle or consequence. I dug out in a weak thermal and got myself on a fat glide and slid on home on a straight in final. Along the way, I inspected the fields on the approach path for future days.
In world competitions, they prefer to use straight-in finals as their default landing procedure. This lines everyone up in a predictable fashion. Each country teaches circuits their own way and each pilot has his own idea of how to do it. But if you give the pilots just enough energy to make it home, the thought is that there is little else they can do other than manage their energy, drop the gear and land straight ahead. For pilots in lower level competitions, this might sound crazy. But it actually works very well. If you scout out the fields short of the airfield and have a plan for each step of the final leg, it is a safe way to do it. And this really is the best way to manage getting 70+ gliders down on an airfield in a short time span.
In any case, it wasn’t busy today. JP joined me shortly thereafter and Luke pulled us back to the trailers to disassemble.
We think we figured out what was making the vibration in the tail! The tailwheel rotates very freely and is slightly out of balance. At 165 km/h, it would start to free wheel, causing a real racket. We put a little pad to provide a bit of friction on the wheel and we suspect that this should solve the problem.
Afterwards, we went off to a team dinner. The Hungarian folks renting out the houses to the US and Australian teams threw us a little party and made wonderful Goulash soup. The teams commingled and we had a wonderful evening.
Tomorrow is the opening ceremony and Sunday is the first contest day. We are now resting, and getting a couple more team things done in the morning. It’s almost time to race!
Today was an exciting day for the US Team. JP arrived and got up to speed. He took a flight to get settled into S5, his LS4 for the competition. Noah flew to get a bit more thermalling experience in his ship. I flew to fiddle with the equipment some more. The flying wasn’t terribly exciting because we had to be at the airport at 5:20pm for “scrutineering” or the official contest inspection or weighing. We had no interest in going cross country and risking an off-field landing. That said, our afternoon and evening were more exciting than any of us expected.
We launched after the grid took off because we weren’t interested in doing the task. Among the useful lessons we learned was that we found that the local area tends to cycle down after the grid launches. Getting up and away from release and over to the start sector is non-trivial when the day starts drying out and the thermals get farther apart. It didn’t really matter for us today; we weren’t racing. But this was an important lesson for the competition, at least when it comes to high pressure days with a northerly wind.
One thing I tested was a vibration I felt in the stick on the previous day. Above 170 km/h, I would hear a buzzing coming from the back of the tailboom and a very slight shaking of the stick. It wouldn’t go away until I got the ship very slow and nose pushed down. This was a bit disconcerting on the previous day’s final glide and I tested it out today with several fast glides. The vibration came back every time. It is still unclear what is causing it. I suspected that it was the elevator gap seal; but they look perfect. The rudder gap seals look a bit more suspicious as they are looser at the top of the rudder… but how would this cause a vibration in the stick? In any case, this is something we are chewing on. If any readers have any ideas, feel free to drop me a line.
After flying around for an hour, the whole team finally linked up in a thermal near the start line. We ended up parting ways shortly thereafter; Noah and JP went off sightseeing and I headed back home.
As I was rolling to a stop, Luke was already on his way to pick me up. We had the glider back at the tiedown area and then headed back to the team house for a short respite. Just as I was about ready to fall asleep for a short nap, Noah called me up. He had just landed and his tire went flat.
We’ll be there in ten minutes!
Turns out that taking a spare tube and tire and buying a tire inflator at the local store would be quite handy today!
We came on over and tried to inflate his wheel to get the glider off the runway. No joy, it didn’t hold air. We had to bring the trailer over and disassemble the ship on the spot.
All of the crews were on deck. We had the ship apart in less than ten minutes and back at the tiedown. John Good arrived shortly thereafter and the team got to work changing the tire.
At the same time, JP and I got our ships through scrutineering. The process was pretty much painless. They weighed me and the glider and asked about several safety features. They calculated my handicap and I was done. They didn’t even ask for the aircraft and pilot documents, which they are liable to do. Hey, I ain’t complaining, the easier the better!
With JP scrutineered and Noah all squared away for flying tomorrow, we headed off to dinner. Mike and his crew joined us shortly thereafter; he had a great flight today! He made it around the tricky task; most pilots abandoned it. Unlike the previous days, they set a truly World’s level task in both classes. They are not afraid to land people out and most pilots chose to bag it rather than take the chance. But Mike kept going and made it on home on a very nice 350km flight!
After dinner, we headed on back to the team house. It is a very nice place to stay, several miles south of the airport. Each pilot and crew has a separate room and bed. There are several bathrooms and a kitchen for cooking breakfast. And even a swimming pool! The Australian team is also staying on the same grounds, in a house across from us.
After we got back, I decided to take a short walk around the area. I like to walk in the evening, especially after dinner. It gives me a chance to spend some time alone and collect my thoughts. It helps me recharge a bit.
In any case, as I headed out, it felt a little bit off. There were hardly any cars around and certainly no people. It’s not exactly a pedestrian friendly area. But in any case, I strolled on the side of the road, content with just walking for the sake of walking.
About 15 minutes in, a police car stops by and asks me, “What are you doing?” I said I was a US team member staying in a house nearby, enjoying the fresh air. He seemed content and drove away. I suppose that being several miles from the Serbian border makes these guys a bit antsy about some random people wandering around this area.
When I was on my way back, about 200 meters from the team house, another police officer told me to stop. I walked on over and went through the same spiel. This fellow insisted that I show him identification, upon which I showed him my driver’s license. Then his partner comes out and they wouldn’t let me go on my way. Then another unmarked police car shows up, with two armed police officers. Oh joy.
They asked me a bunch of questions and asked me for my passport. I told them it was 200 meters away. After lots of radio chatter and arguing back and forth, they told me to take a ride with the police car over to the house and show them the passport.
Upon arriving, I retrieved said document and had John Good come over as well. I figured it was safer to have him there in case there was any further trouble.
Another 10 minutes of bantering, asking me where I was born and my mother’s name. Finally they said I could go and they went on their way.
I’ve been pulled over a couple times in my life. This is the first time I was pulled over for the act of walking.
It turns out you have to have a passport on you at all times in Hungary. Moreover, they are extremely edgy about migrants coming in from Serbia. As a result, half of the vehicles in this area are police cars, marked and unmarked. They have a policy of pulling over any person walking after 6pm. Akos, our local Hungarian crew said that houses in the area along the border are occasionally raided by police if they are suspected of harboring migrants. Serious business.
During this whole episode, I had a couple thoughts and feelings. As far as I was personally concerned, it was actually more interesting rather than stressful. When traveling in most places around the world, being an American gives you a huge amount of leverage. The local police district does not want to deal with an angry American embassy, or worse yet bad media coverage. This is especially true in a country that is part of the European Union. I felt protected by the full force of my country.
But in broader terms, it was interesting seeing firsthand how political questions and problems translate into daily life. Whatever one’s political leanings regarding undocumented migrants, few see how this actually gets enforced. And for the people who visit and live near the border, the government operates at the boundary of infringing their personal rights. Police have the discretion to stop anyone and demand their papers. Any house can be raided pretty much at any time. It is a tense environment.
In all, it was pretty enlightening.
And most assuredly, I won’t be taking evening strolls in this neighborhood again.
Today was the first official practice day of the competition and the team did very well. We are ironing out the equipment, briefings and overall team process. The flying part is the most solid of the whole bit, with Noah and I doing considerably better than we expected given a very relaxed and not especially performance-minded approach to the short task today. In any case, we’re in great shape!
The principal difference of the “official” as opposed “unofficial” practice days is that a pilot’s performance on the task may affect their points in the competition. This is not to say that the points around the task count. However, airspace infractions or penalties resulting from violating local procedures DO count toward the whole competition. In FAI rules, certain violations first incur a warning, then steeper and steeper penalties for subsequent offenses. It is possible to get a “first strike” warning during a practice period, to THEN get a steep penalty during the actual contest. As a result, we were extremely cautious about avoiding any penalties, especially since the real points don’t count yet.
Noah and I spent the morning working on getting the LX 9050 system to work. Boy what a complicated mess that computer is. I think you need to be a tech wizard to figure it out completely. Noah helped me set up the simplest possible profile we could make, along with the contest registration and adjustments to the Flarm settings. The Flarm audio warnings were not working before, which is a problem for team flying. The collision avoidance system is very useful when you’re spending 60+ hours in close proximity to one another. We don’t count on it exclusively of course, but it is a very useful aid in improving our situational awareness.
We launched at the back of the grid and had a bit of trouble staying up after releasing. The airport is in a bit of an airspace corridor; you can’t go too far south or west or you get into restricted airspaces. The start is a bit to the north of the airport, in clearer air so to speak. But off of release, the gaggle was climbing directly above a zone of airspace and I couldn’t quite reach it without being committed to the thermal. If the thermal didn’t work, I’d bust the top of the 450 meter MSL restricted zone. Instead I headed over to the airport and dug out from a little over pattern altitude.
The lift was pretty reasonable early in the day. It triggered early thanks to the cool northerly flow. This makes for a dry and unstable airmass, much like the good days back home. It looks like in Europe the weather follows the Cookie postulate (Cookie was my flight instructor), which is that it ought to be good if there is an “N”, especially paired with a “W” in the wind direction forecast.
In any case, we milled around for a while, watching the sky develop. There was a threat of spread-out later on and we felt the urge to go relatively early before the day overdeveloped. We started with a group of other Club Class gliders, though most of them disappeared into the ether. With a turn area task in a homogeneous sky, you don’t get the massive gaggles that you would find on a weak, blue day.
Heading west, the terrain got slightly higher and considerably more wooded. We went a good ten miles without hitting much of anything. But when we found a thermal, it was an honest 4.5 knotter. This was the story for most of the day; solid, but with lift that was far apart. We worked hard to stay connected in the higher band.
The middle of this region had few good landing options. There were plenty of places to deviate to and we had plenty of height to do so. However, we made a note to ourselves that this is not a place we would like to get low in during the competition.
As we approached the turn area, we saw the Danube river valley open up before us. What a gorgeous sight! The mighty river snaking through a sea of fields and towns. We were warned that the lift in this area can be quite soft and down-shifted accordingly. However, looking ahead we saw a dust devil over a field, right by the river! There has been so little rain for the past several weeks that even the river valley was cooking off good thermals! It worked out well enough that we flew right over the river before making our turn and heading back to the east.
Heading east, no real trouble for a while other than an occasional lower bit down to around 2500ft AGL or so. It feels a lot lower than it really is. Along the way, we picked up a couple thermals with other gliders.
There are many good reasons to fly with a teammate. Among Noah’s many great qualities is that he has excellent vision. There were several times he would radio to me,
“Tally, glider one-o-clock, 6 kilometers away, turning into a thermal… 150km/h?”
I’d look out ahead and see diddly squat.
Then I’d cautiously reply, “Sounds good to me” and pushed the nose down trusting Noah’s eyes over my own. When we would get half way there, I would finally see the gliders steadily climbing.
Mind you, I got new lenses on my prescription sunglasses before I left; I’m an honest 20/20 when I’m flying. It’s just that some people are part eagle and leave the rest of us in the dust. And it sure is nice to be their teammate!
The clouds got more and more spread-out as we headed east. The Tisa River valley actually was as advertised; somewhat weaker than the surrounding areas. We had to dig out from around 600 meters over a town and finagled our way deeper into the sector. Noah had final glide on me earlier and headed on a bit deeper and I cut the corner. We had a great run into the final steering turn and on to home.
Along the way, my GPS briefly died as I was approaching the steering turn on the final glide. This was rather annoying as I couldn’t see if I hit the little sector! And when it went back on, I wasn’t 100 percent sure that I hit it or missed the edge. I had enough doubt about whether I hit it and whether the penalty would be an official “warning” that I said heck with it and turned around to go through it a second time for good measure. This is why there was a little 2 km jog in my track.
The issue was totally resolved after landing. This is why we have practice days; to iron out the kinks. I will also have the borrowed Nano 3 have a task next time to use as a backup if this happens again.
After we landed, we were amused that our crews were not on the airfield. It turned out that they were watching the OGN Flarm tracking. They saw us screaming around the course, but the tracking was delayed 15 minutes on the website. They were really surprised when Noah called in that he was standing by the trailer, when they saw us on “final glide” heading back! We had a big laugh and it was a lesson learned for the competition.
All in all, a very successful day. Noah came in 2nd for the day and I came in 7th, 51 points behind the winner. Noah was very happy to be second as it is considered bad voodoo in the US to win a practice day. As a result, we couldn’t hope to do much better!
After getting the gliders put away, we went out to dinner and spent the evening getting more supplies and sorting out equipment. It has been a constant effort all the way through 10:30pm, when I sat down and looked through the photos and started working on this report. The flying is the “easy part” of the day, at least right now as we are getting ramped up and ready to go. We’re almost there!
Among other news, Mike Marshall landed out today. He struggled to get away for a while and was having a great day when he finally did. But then the conditions down-cycled over the high ground and it got really tricky. He made a safe landing in a beautiful field and got retrieved by his crew.
Since we had the same task today, Noah and I relayed information about the conditions on course. Having a contestant in another class is a new experience for me as the last two worlds the US only fielded a Club Class team. We are working on ways to see how we could help Mike, both in the air and on the ground.
JP is arriving tomorrow. Also, the gliders are getting “scrutineered” in the evening. This is to say that they will go through a contest inspection to make them officially registered in the contest and ready to go. Between getting JP up to speed and getting our gliders completely ready to go, we will probably stay local again and fiddle rather than go for the task. Everything is coming together!
Everything is coming together. The gliders, crews, and equipment are all trickling in. Today, Noah and I had our ships together and had very nice flights. Our goal today was to have a low stress equipment check out. We hadn’t flown these ships before and haven’t used their avionics. We wanted to see how they flew and work out the kinks before attempting a cross-country task.
Luke and I got out to the airport early and worked out getting M8, my LS4a together. I took a step back and let him work through the whole process, offering guidance only when he requested it. He’s a really sharp fellow and is learning quickly. He’s doubly motivated because he will be flying the Aero Club Albatross LS4 soon; learning all the ins and outs of this ship will serve him very well.
Checklist completed, we headed on over to the pilot’s briefing. Notice the word briefing as opposed to meeting. In the Worlds, they have a short presentation on the local procedures, weather and contest announcements. There are no questions allowed from the audience. If a contestant has a complaint or a request for the organization, he must let his team captain know, who then follows up with the Contest Director (CD) or Stewards accordingly. All the contestants have crews and they are expected to do all the ground handling; the organization does not run wings or anything like that. It’s a different and much more professional environment than a typical regional or even a Nationals in the US.
In any case, the briefing today was relatively low key as it was an Unofficial Training Day. They set a task, despite the sullen-looking sky outside. But the CD was optimistic and figured that the soaring conditions should improve in the afternoon. The forecast indicated very unstable air; any sun on the ground and the thermals would cook off in no time. Noah and I were indifferent; all we cared about was to get in the air for a short flight and test out our systems.
We got to the grid by noon and had the ships all ready to go. The overcast burned off and the sun peeked out; looked like a pretty decent day after all!
We relaxed for a while. The day took a little while to trigger. By 12:45pm, the towplanes roared into action. The towplanes at this contest are an eclectic bunch. A Pawnee, 182, Zlin, Virus motorglider and several other types. Hardly more than two of the same airplane!
The Zlin was my towplane today. What an interesting machine! This is the first retractable-gear towplane that I had ever towed behind. It climbed quite well up to release altitude. The procedure in the Worlds is that a pilot must stay on tow until the towplane waves them off; you can’t just release in a thermal like you can back in the States. But this particular wave off was even more special as the towplane drops the gear as it starts vigorously waggling its wings!
In any case, Noah and I were quickly connected after release in good lift. I was very quickly impressed with my LS4. The radio was outstanding. I could hear Noah very very very clearly and loudly. I cannot overstate what a blessing this is. I’ve had to deal with subpar radios and microphones in team flying for a very long time. Very often you will say, “Unreadable” or “Say Again”. When you get tired and your diction starts falling apart, it gets even worse. But these radios work! And man what a relief this is.
These LS4s climb very very well. We were able to get them as slow as 80 km/h in the thermals, though they were happy at 85 km/h in a 40 degree bank. This is ~46 knots or so. They are in great shape and fly very well. Noah and I several times stated, “Did I mention that this is a really nice glider!” We were really happy with how these ships were flying.
We weren’t ambitious with our soaring plans today. We headed into the 23 knot headwind and explored the area. The terrain is mostly flat, with short to moderate length fields. The thermals were actually quite reasonable; fairly wide lift around four knot averages or so. Some of the cores were well into 7-8 knots. The airport is situated right next to Szeged, a fairly large city. This also makes it easy to stay up in this area as all the infrastructure is good for generating thermals.
To the west, there is higher, drier and more wooded terrain. The lift was fairly decent there, although the day started to overdevelop. Our near nil motivation to get out of gliding distance evaporated at that point and we headed closer to the airport.
When we went east of the airport, we found nearly dead air. This area is low ground near the Tisa River. The river valleys here are softer lift areas and this showed. We headed back to Szeged as the day started to collapse.
While we floated around near the airport, I tested out the manual bugwipers. They are a pain in the butt! They deploy by extending a fishing line as they sweep across the wing. Then you crank a little knob for about 90 seconds as it sweeps back to the wingroot. It is fairly vigorous work and required quite a bit of attention, at least on my part. I felt that it was a lot more trouble than it was worth, at least with the dry and non-buggy air that we were flying in. It seems a reasonable bet to clean the wings before start while milling around in the start sector and perhaps before final glide if possible. But I can’t imagine doing it the 4 or 5 times that people recommend to do during the course. It seems that the amount of time needed to do it is too distracting and would burn up that much more energy (in the glider and in the pilot) than can be gained from using these devices. But we will see!
In any case, we headed back after a leisurely 2.5 hours in the sky. We made a list of little items to address to be 100 percent contest ready and are well on our way toward knocking off those items. We’re in great shape and looking forward to flying tomorrow!
Among other news, Jonathan Elie arrived with JP Stewart’s glider. We are all anxiously awaiting the arrival of our teammate and we will soon be a complete team!
Luke and I are now in Hungary, humming along the highway, trailer in tow. Nothing really exciting to report; we made it into Vienna yesterday and will be arriving in Szeged soon.
Luke is doing a fantastic job! He’s gotten the hang of driving with the trailer and is a real pro now. It is a pleasant surprise getting to sit in the right seat of a car with a trailer while on a long cross country trip. I could get used to this!
We are now a little less than 3 hours away from the airport. Most of the team is already there, including John Good, Akos (our Hungarian crew), Mike Marshall and his crew and Noah with Jake. Looking forward to the good company!
When a swimmer goes to a swimming meet, he brings a pair of swim trunks and goggles. When a skier goes to a skiing competition, she brings a pair of skis, poles, and a bag full of winter clothing.
When a soaring pilot goes to a soaring contest, he brings a crew, 100 lbs of gear, a car equipped with a hitch, a portable hardware store and an aircraft in a 25 foot long trailer.
This is a logistical challenge for any racing pilot. When racing on another continent, it becomes a logistical nightmare.
Luke DuPlessis is my intrepid crew for the Junior Worlds, a responsible 17 year old who can drive and is eager to do anything and everything for the team. We met at the airport on Friday and departed for Europe.
After a sleepless night on the airplane (for me), we arrived in the Netherlands.
Why the Netherlands you may ask? The contest is indeed in Hungary, on the other side of the continent! A fair and reasonable point, but this goes back to the challenge of finding an aircraft. The best gliders we could find were in the Netherlands.
But this opened up other challenges. Now we had to find vehicles to rent. Rene, a much appreciated local contact along with Heinz and Karin helped find us two Volvos with trailer hitches.
Next, we needed to get our pilot certificates approved to fly gliders registered in the Netherlands. This required getting a check flight at the local airfield in Terlet. Rein, a former KLM 747 driver and local club instructor was eager to help.
So we arrive in the Netherlands at 8am. We wait for Noah, my teammate and Jake, his crew, to arrive an hour later from Philadelphia. Rene picks us up and we send our crews on the train to Arnhem as there is not enough room in a typical European car for the whole team and our gear.
We pick up our cars and see a break in the weather. Rene goes over to Arnhem to get our crews from the train station. Noah and I rush over to Terlet, hoping to get our check flights done.
It starts pouring again.
As we wait for the weather to clear, we enjoyed the hospitality of the local glider folks. It’s an impressive airfield. Three parallel runways, hangar, full service machine shop, several six drum winches and much more. It’s the biggest glider club in this country, with 250 club members.
The weather clears. All the flying gears go into motion. Our crews and local club members get the towplane and K21 out to the line. Noah and I complete two quick pattern hops.
For such short flights, we had a blast! The view was wonderful, with forests, rolling hills and showers lurking in the distance. There were little clouds hugging the ground in some places like steam rising off a pan.
And it ended as quickly as it started. Glider and towplane back in the hangar, all cleaned up and put away.
Off to Breda airport, a 1.5 hour drive to pick up our gliders.
Inspection, questions, more gear. A tutorial on bugwipers. Secure lead to minimize the weight difference (and handicap) between Noah and my ship. Instructions on how to use the trailers and driving in Europe.
Dinner at the local airport restaurant. Drive back two hours to Terlet glider club to drop the gliders off for the night and pick up our newly approved Dutch licenses, rushed hot off the presses at 10:30pm.
At 11pm, we collapse from exhaustion in a hostel 10 minutes away from the airport. Our departure from consciousness lasts no less than until 9am the following day. 10am in Noah’s case.
And we are now on the road to Hungary, with our gear all good to go, relaxed and satisfied that we are in good shape.
Now the goal is to get there safely and rested. And enjoy the roadtrip!
Many thanks to everyone who is supporting us! Huge thanks to Rene who picked us up from the airport and helped us work through the logistical challenges. Thanks Rein who flew with us and helped get us legal to fly in Europe.
I’m getting more and more excited with every kilometer closer to Szeged! It’s an honor to have the opportunity to represent my country at an international competition.
Rain, rain, rain and more rain has been the story in the northeast for the past several months. So much so that the Standard Class Nationals were cancelled because their field was practically flooded. My teammate, Noah Reitter had to pick up his club’s glider from the airport and reported that, “It might as well have been a seaplane base!” Since this contest was our training period for the Junior Worlds, we tried to figure out alternative training plans. Thankfully, our clubs supported us using their club ships at other sites which were soarable. And right as we set out on our soaring adventure, the weather finally turned a corner. We flew for seven out of eight days at Ridge Soaring Gliderport and Harris Hill, racking up lots of miles and hours. Noah is an exceptional soaring pilot and he really stepped up my game. We flew in some challenging soaring conditions, several times feeling like we wouldn’t make it home. But somehow we always made it around and had a blast while doing it!
As our team training wound down, I saw a very promising ridge day coming up for June 30th. The conditions at Elmira were not going to be suitable for good soaring, but it looked great at Ridge Soaring Gliderport down by State College, PA. It looked like it might be good enough to attempt at a Standard Class National record.
We asked Phil Chidekel, our resident expert meteorologist to look at the weather forecast. He saw a big day, but with challenges, namely a stalled stationary front with the prospect of showers and maybe tricky ridge conditions. Noah was about spent from a week of hard flying and took a pass on the prospect of being thrown around all day. On Saturday we parted company, 100 percent ready to go to Hungary and make a serious go at the Junior Worlds.
Heading down to Ridge Soaring Gliderport, I finally started to plan my flight. Normally I plan big days well in advance. I’d update the task, have my forms ready and everything thought through. But this time, everything was to be thrown together last minute. On the way I picked up tubing and buckets to fill up the LS-4 water bags. I figured that today I would assemble the ship, test out the water system and load it up with water. And finally put the glider into the hangar, ready to fly the next day.
Just my luck, I saw John Bird and Len Martinowski when I arrived at the airport. These two characters are my good friends, Penn State students and great gliderpilots. It looked like I’d have help assembling the glider and testing out the water system! I hadn’t loaded up the ‘4 with water before, and it was a pretty elaborate and humorous operation. It involved siphoning water from a bucket on a stool, with a second five-gallon bucket being used as a reservoir to keep track of how much water we were putting in. After about an hour and getting ourselves completely soaked, we managed to load in about 23 gallons of water, which seemed all that the LS4 would carry.
Some repacking and shuffling of gliders in the hangar and the ship was in great shape. Another 50 lbs of lead behind the seat and 10 liters of water in three Camelbaks, the ‘4 was loaded up to maximum fuselage weight. Tomorrow I would need the glider to be a lead sled and this is as much weight as it could take.
This was followed by checklists and errands. After dinner it was suggested for me to pick up a backup logger (good idea!) and Mike Robison was willing to help with a Nano 3. Back at the airport a little after 9pm and I finally sat down at my computer to think through a declaration.
My goal for some time was a Three Turnpoint Distance Record in Standard Class. Figuring an even 800 miles would do, the best task options took me down south early. However, the limiting factor was that the conditions would not be as favorable as the models initially expected. The front was going to stall someplace in Virginia and this would complicate things to the south.
A natural place to turn would be no farther than Covington, West Virginia. This is where the high mountains end and the lower Peters Mountain begins. With this in mind, I anchored the other legs from this point. This task took me to Covington first, with the remainder being run out on the Mifflin ridges. But the task didn’t look or feel right. After going to bed, my mind still kept cranking away and I turned on the light and opened up SeeYou once more. An alternative option occurred to me that allowed for a cleaner lap early and went to Covington in the second portion of the day. This made it possible for the front to push through a bit farther and made for a more intuitively “right” task.
But lying in bed thinking, I still couldn’t decide between the two. And then I just decided to take a look at the weather in the morning and make my decision then. Like with a snap of a finger, a calm descended over me and I slept soundly for seven hours. A much appreciated and necessary rest that really made the difference the following day.
Where’s the Wind?
Waking up, I was pleasantly surprised to be well rested. And looking at the weather, the lap first, Covington-later task was the way to go. Loggers and GPS updated, the glider was ready. While eating breakfast, I looked up at the ridge. There was no wind on the surface and squinting at the ridge top did not reveal any swaying trees. The inversion had not cleared out of the valley; this would be a slow starting day.
John Bird arrived at 8am and gave me a hand getting the ship out to the back end of the runway. With the Scout as the towplane, we should use all the runway there was! Subsequently, we went over to assemble his Libelle. He was going for a Diamond Distance and succeeded too!
Closer to 9am, the wind just started to mix down to the surface and Tom towed me up to the ridge. It was really amazing that the tows lasted only two minutes, straight up the mountain! Today the climb rate on tow was not as spectacular as it normally would be on a ridge day. The ridge lift was not very strong. I hung on 200ft higher than I normally would.
After releasing and turning to the northeast, it was clear that the ridge was hardly working. Settling down to level with ridge top, the glider was slowing and slowing down. It felt heavy and sluggish with all the weight and I resolved not to slow down less than 60 knots. It just barely stayed even with ridge top and struggled to climb toward the higher section near Milesburg Gap. Seeing how weak it was, I decided to wait a while and let the ridge firm up. A short lap on the local ridge mustered up my courage to make the crossing to the north. Once on the other side, I once again chickened out approaching Howard Dam. Another little lap while in touch with the landable fields and I tiptoed my way across the unlandable section.
After a long struggle, I finagled my way to Lockhaven. Now the challenge was to g downwind over to Nittany Mountain, the location of my start point. The ridge was so weak that it was necessary to find a thermal to make it across. I beat back and forth, trying thermals here and there. The lift was torn up and it was difficult to work with all the weight in the glider. Finally, I made a lap farther along toward the high part of the ridge. Instead, there was weaker lift and the ship dropped 150ft, now well below ridge top. Turning around, I dumped the nose, heart beating more rapidly, with my right eye looking at Lockhaven airport.
Just hang in there!
And that I did to get back to the better working part of the ridge. And it turned out that this expression would cross my mind many more times as this flight went on.
Finally, at 10am the thermals firmed up a bit and got me just high enough to cross over to the downwind ridge. At 10:15, more than hour after taking off, I finally went through the start. In this time, I had flown a meager 32 miles, none of which counted toward the task.
Off to the Races
After starting the task, I was a bit leery of driving down on the ridge, though the lift was improving. I pushed the speed up to 90 knots and let myself slowly settle down. We’ll let ‘er rip on Tussey, it’s not time to drive just yet. No trouble making the downwind jump at Nittany and we were in business on Tussey. Down on the trees and the airspeed was just over 100 knots indicated. With the late start, it was necessary to make speed on this lap down to Evitts Mountain. This will make or break the flight at the end of the day.
No real trouble making it down to the turnpoint at the tip of Evitts, though the ridge was a bit weaker than forecast. I was hoping to do 110 knots on the good sections thanks to the addition of all the ballast. But instead the ship was doing quite a bit of 95 knots, sometimes even 80 on the uphill parts. The ridge band seemed to be cut off 300ft or so above ridge top, which made the transitions a bit trickier. This made my life difficult crossing to Nittany on the following leg. I had to abandon the transition and pick up a thermal in the middle which finally got me across. Similarly, this made it tricky to get across the “death dive” to the front ridge. I like to float up several hundred feet above Nittany before going across, but the ridge gave just enough to clear over the top and go. Tricky business.
Once on the front ridge, I headed for my turnpoint near the edge of the Williamsport Class Delta. It was now an all-out drag race. Abeam of Lockhaven, I figured that I had now started a 900km out and return. It was 1pm and sunset was 8:45pm. Figuring seven hours was a reasonable bet, I had to make Covington by 4:30pm to have a little reserve at the end of the day. Every knot of airspeed counted now; every minute earlier would mean that the thermals are that much better on the run back.
Altoona and Bedford went by without too much difficulty and I was on the Knobblies before I knew it. The effect of this terrain on the air mirrors the broken-up nature of the ground; the air was all torn up and unsettled. I slowed down to 80 knots and struggled to maintain my altitude. The sharp gusts that felt like good thermals encouraged me to start making a quarter of a turn and then get dumped out the other side. Almost all of the clouds failed to generate organized lift. It is necessary to climb between the especially dicey sections between Keyser and Scherr and the tip of Scherr and Hopewell Gap. The sections in between get very low and the landability is quite poor. I made it across after 30 minutes of stressful flying.
Now firmly established on the high West Virginia ridges, I was really hoping to let ‘er rip. But the lift was not working that well. Below ridge top it just barely kept me up and level with the ridge and then the sections would work for about 95-100 knots. I expected that with the higher elevation I would find a redline ridge, but to no avail. Every minute counted and I kept the ‘4 going as fast as it would go.
Beyond Snowy Mountain and the downwind ridge was in range. I got a bit antsy to make the jump and did it a bit too early. Once established, the next transition was a bit disconcerting. It was a downwind jump similar to Honey Grove, although over a sea of trees. I took care to climb up high enough to solidly make it across above ridge top.
I was now in business on the Warm Springs Ridge. And to my distress, the glider was hardly staying level with the ridge while passing Ingalls Airport. The wind sock at the top of this really high airport was only halfway extended and the ridge ahead was descending. I must have overrun the stationary front and was now flying in the weaker, crappier air.
Approaching the knob at the end of the Warm Springs Ridge, I realized that my turnpoint was several miles beyond the tip, directly over the town of Covington. The idea behind this strategy is if the ridge working well, to float up 500-1000ft above ridge top, tiptoe in, round the point and get out. It doesn’t work so well when you’re hardly hanging along at ridge top. The turnpoint was four miles away.
How Badly Do You Want
You can’t get so close and chicken out. Sliding out toward the turnpoint, I was slowly bleeding off altitude and holding my breath. Two miles from the point, now over the valley and the ship was sinking faster. Heart rate kicked up, pressing on. Approaching the turnpoint, I was 400ft lower than I started.
Heaving the glider around the turn, I felt a nibble off the right wing. It took two seconds to register and then I flung the ship into a turn reversal with all my strength. By golly the freakin’ town set off a thermal!
It was not great, going up on half the turn and down the other. But it was enough to gain 450 feet back. At that point I was drifting faster downwind than I was climbing up and punched back toward the ridge. At 3200ft, the weak ridge lift kicked in, well below ridge top. Boy was I thankful for that 450 feet.
Man, would it be great to get back to the high Ingalls ridge. The higher altitude, slightly better thermals and better fields at the base made it the way to go. Just hang with it. And several miles farther, another weak thermal got me 200 feet higher.
Every foot counts to a ridge pilot. 50 feet higher or lower
is the difference between connecting with the ridge 150 feet below crest and
falling off into a field. High enough, I slid downwind and connected with the
At this point, I was able to take a breather and take stock of my situation. The finish was 400km away and it was just after 4pm. Having made good time heading south, this would give me a bit more room on the return trip. But the conditions were starting to deteriorate and it’s a lot to ask of eastern thermals to keep chugging along this late. The first challenge was to get back upwind to the front ridge and the clouds ahead looked pitiful.
Abeam of Ingalls Airport again and there was a nice looking cloud street heading upwind. Looking northeast, the clouds looked worse, hardly a chance to make it over upwind further along this ridge. A solid surge. The goal was now to climb up as high as possible, float up the street and get across. This would set me up well to reconnect with the front ridge at Mountain Grove.
700ft higher and the thermal started deteriorating. Well the street looks nice, maybe I could pick up a bubble along the way. Hanging along in good air, but no bubble was to be found. This is not looking pretty. Floating along upwind, the glide angle on the mountains ahead was slightly improving. But I really wanted another climb. Halfway across and still no joy. Looking to the northeast, pressing on still looked like the best bet. I could clear Lick Mountain and fall back on it if I started coming up short of the front ridge.
I made the fateful decision to press on.
500ft above Lick and the front ridge is coming in view. I would be totally committed very soon; can’t drop off to the fields behind Lick Mountain anymore on the other side. Heart rate kicked up, eyes narrowed, and I crossed the point of no return to slide over the top of the ridge.
400km Through Hell
If there was a log that measured my pulse, at this point it would have spiked off the chart. As I cleared the ridge and looked down, there was a dark green mass of forest. And more importantly, the trees were not moving; there was hardly any wind down here at 2700ft MSL. Several seconds later, I hit a little surge, hauled into it and opened the dump valves. As this happened, I forced myself to breathe, calm down and looked left at Lake Moomaw. If all goes to hell, that’s where I would go and live with the fact I would be called an admiral. The thought flashed across my mind to remember to take off the parachute straps if I have to go into the water.
Immediately after I pulled into the turn, I saw the fields at the base of Mountain Grove out of the corner of my right eye. They were solidly in glide. I heaved out of the turn, put the nose down and closed the valves. A wave of relief, dread, and anxiety swept over me. My fate is at the base of this mountain; I am totally screwed. This ridge is hardly working. But the field is an infinitely better way to end this flight than the damned lake.
Down to 60 knots. The ridge was rising faster than I could climb with it. A little surge and I turned into it. Nothing and I was lower than I started the turn. Damn! Just hang in there. Another surge, a couple S-turns good for 150ft. Just hang with it. Now abeam of the fields and several hundred feet higher. And then the ridge made a sharp rise and I was off its base, on the little spurs below.
A sharper surge. Maybe I could S-turn up the ridge? There were two gullies and it seemed that there was lift on both sides and sink in the middle. I was able to make my turns right over the gullies and spent five minutes clawing my way up 400 feet. Every foot matters to a ridge pilot.
This was just enough to slide in 150 feet below ridge top on the high ridge and the lift kicked on. Slowly I was level with the ridge. It kept rising and rising and I was struggling to stay with it. I would dolphin through every bubble. Finally, near Monterey I was level with the 3800ft ridge, cruising along at a reasonable clip.
Thinking the horrors were finally over, I sped up a bit more. The ridge band was almost glued to the trees; it hardly rose above the top of the ridge. My speed crept up to 90 knots; if there was any chance to complete the task I’ll have to nurse the ship home.
Approaching Snowy Mountain; I slowed down a bit. The ridge band only got me up to 4100ft. And then I got sucked into the spill. I kept the ship plastered to the trees. Halfway in, it still looked better to keep driving. Still sinking and sinking. Now I had to go the long way around the knob and I was falling out of the freakin’ sky. Every time I hit a sink spell, I was dodging the trees and spilling myself off the ridge. And to my dread, the ridge rose several hundred feet. As I came around the corner, I was down to 3500ft, right at the base of the high ridge, near level with the low upwind ridge. The landing options were through a gully toward the low ridge. This is not looking good at all.
And then the ridge lift just started kicking in. I opened the
dump valves, all that mattered now was to claw up this damned mountain. And on
the first S-turn, the lift kicked in in earnest. Closed the valves and three
S-turns later, I was back in business.
At this point, it became abundantly clear to me that the goal was to survive the next 320km; literally and figuratively. The terrain and fields in West Virginia were terrifying down low. The air was torn up and the mountains were intimidating. Man what I would do to just make it to Maryland, where the fields were much nicer. Time was ticking; it was after 5pm and I accepted that this flight was near certain to end in a landout. Let’s just make it to a good field.
Abeam of Petersburg, and it was hard to stay much above ridge top. Now the Knobblies appeared before me and a wave of dread came over me. I can’t get in there low, I gotta climb! And thankfully I found a rare, solid surge. This took me up to 5,500ft before it petered out. But looking ahead I saw that the clouds lined up parallel to the ridge; looks like rotor! This kept me going a long way in good air and gave me just a bit more altitude to work with. Looking ahead, I had a flat angle to Scherr. Boy I really wanted to be higher. Just give me another thermal to work with and I’d take it.
Floating along in the rotor line, I bumped along in the
lift, but nothing was solid enough to turn in. I kept going straight, eyeing my
angle to the base of the fourth windmill. It held and I slid in well below the
top of the ridge and it kicked on. Slowing down to 60 knots, I floated up to
the top. Just give me a bit more to make it to Keyser. Nope, not much to give,
but just enough good air to float along. Just
hang in there.
And looking ahead, the better fields at the base of Keyser opened
up in front of me. Whatever deity was watching me today, thank you, thank you
very much. I slid lower and lower, down to 2000ft. But then the broken up
ridges kicked on and I was maintaining altitude.
It was approaching 6pm. Now back in the land of large, abundant fields, I started thinking about the next transition. It would be a small upwind jump to the Halfpipe beyond Cumberland. I will need a thermal to make this work. What are the odds that it will kick in this late in the day?
And sure enough the infrastructure upwind of the little ridge worked a couple bubbles my way. Man oh man, this might even work! The first thermal petered out, but the second one was a genuine, solid three knotter. I took it up as high as it would go, abundantly pleased to be well off the ridge even just for a little while. At 4,500ft and it was plenty to make it across.
At this point, another wave of relief passed over me. Should the PA ridges work, I could cut down the retrieve a huge amount. I will not need an honest thermal until I got to the transition at Tussey to Nittany and that is pretty close to Ridge Soaring. Every mile flown is two miles less on the retrieve and I felt rightfully proud that I was now in friendly territory.
I called up John Bird and asked him if he could be ready to retrieve me. He said he was tracking me on SPOT and fairly assumed I would probably eventually land at the base of Tussey or somewhere along Nittany. He rightfully surmised that in the unlikely event that I somehow made it to my finish that I would have to land someplace, anywhere to be down before sunset. Thanking him for his thoughtfulness and initiative in being ready to retrieve me, I asked him if he completed his Diamond Distance today. He said he did and had a great flight too! The 90-second conversation lifted my spirits.
The Halfpipe was just barely working. Again, I couldn’t keep up with the rising ridge. Where Wills Mountain meets the halfpipe, I found a thermal and once again S-turned to claw my way up the mountain. At the top now, I was floating along as high as I could. Evitts Mountain was downwind, but it would sure be nice to connect with it as high as possible; the landing options at the base of it are dismal to non-existent. Boy would it be nice to find a thermal.
Several attempts and no joy. Sigh. I was high enough to go for it, so it was simply a matter of finding the friendliest spot and going for it. A little surge, a 270 and a downwind run in good air. Strong sink in the leeward spill and I slid onto Evitts Mountains square at ridge top.
I was now limping along at 75-80 knots, still pretty heavy with water. I figured that the weight would help me in the penetration and would hardly lose when it came to floating up in the straightaways. I floated up just barely enough to squeak over the Wall and onto Tussey. Just kept nursing the ship along. Just hang in there.
Passing the Zag, I slowed down to 60 knots. It was 7pm and there was only one more transition left that stood between me and completing the task. Ahead was the upwind jump at Tussey which gave me grief the first time around today and the air was becoming smooth. What are the odds that this is going to work?
This late in the day, the upper band usually turns on and it
is possible to float along 1000ft above the ridge in “evening magic”. The sun
comes around to the west and the trees start releasing their latent heat. It is
a glorious time to be flying.
The band hadn’t kicked on yet and at one point I was flung back down on the ridge top. Patience, just float along at 60 knots. And then the ridge slowly strengthened. 20, 30 feet at a time, I slowly floated up higher and higher. I finally capped out at 2800ft. This was considerably better than before!
Nursing the glider along, I looked upwind. There was that field I scouted out before at the base of the mountain, right by the big quarry. It looked good to land in and this will be my out. Everything hangs on this one jump. Floating along, I hoped to find a thermal to get higher. I have only one chance to make this work; the conditions are not going to improve later.
As close as I could get to the jump, I found a little nibble, just enough to gain an extra 100ft. Every foot counts to a ridge pilot. 100ft was the best it would do and I floated out at best glide speed.
At this point I called up University Park Tower to request the transition across. It was fully apparent to me that there was a good chance that I would be at the base of the ridge and wondered how I should communicate my situation to the tower. It felt better to spare myself the trouble of having to explain myself while in a marginal situation as it were. If I fall off, I’ll deal with them later.
The ridge looked so far away and so high up off the nose, but the angle was just holding on. A little bit of sink, a little bit of good air. The angle took me just a little bit below the crest, right around the corner. The field looked really nice and I had my approach figured out. Just hang in there.
As I wrapped the ship around the corner, I pulled the dump
valve. No need for the water anymore and I will give everything it takes to
stay with this ridge. Evidently the water gods were pleased as I was greeted
with weak ridge lift. It was solid and I closed the valve.
A wave of elation passed over! Damned if I made it across! I’ll
make it to the finish line! What are the odds!
And then I sternly said enough of that, don’t celebrate
until you have actually completed the task. There’s still room to mess up you
But that was almost in jest. I was cruising along at 85 knots, sun setting off my shoulder, chasing my shadow off my right wing. The lift was smooth, the whole Nittany valley lit up in the glorious evening sun. It was surreal.
As I approached the finish, I started thinking about how to make my landing. My first thought was to turn around and fly back along Nittany and land just outside of the University Park Class D. This would cut down the retrieve quite a bit. But then I considered if I could make it to the front ridge that I could land at Lockhaven Airport. That’s a very nice place to go! And besides, if I had enough time, I could head back along the ridge, maybe get to Milesburg and cut down the retrieve some more. Who knows, maybe I could even make it home? I laughed at the prospect.
Approaching the end of the mountain, I slowed down and floated up. After crossing the finish line, my satisfaction was delayed since I was focused on making the next upwind jump. Just floating up enough to clear the bowl, I once again went for the infamous “death dive” to the front ridge.
This time after clearing the corner I immediately headed southwest. The ship connected with the ridge at 1700ft in honest ridge lift. I was in perfect position for a landing at Lockhaven, but slowly floated up the ridge. Looking at the time, there were 30 miles to go and 40 minutes until sunset. Man, that is actually enough time to make it home! Might as well give it a shot, why not?
Humming along at 80 knots at 1700ft, it was peaceful. The sun was coming down behind the cirrus off to the west and the valley started to darken. The air was smooth. It felt like I was sitting on the wing and just watching myself fly, simply amazed to be here at all.
Approaching Milesburg, I slowed down and floated up to
1800ft. This was all that the ridge was going to give me now as the wind was
slowly dying down. But this was enough to get across and the airport came in
sight. Dropping down the gear on downwind and going 70 knots, there was enough
drag on the glider that I could no longer sustain at ridge top. The day was giving
its dying breath as I turned on base leg and landed in perfectly smooth air, 20
minutes before sunset.
This was the most difficult ridge flight I had ever done; certainly more challenging than any flight I had previously declared. The conditions were just barely good enough to make it work. The last 500km was the most grueling soaring I had ever done for such a long distance. Every transition, gap, and elevation change had me working for every last scrap of energy. There were at least three times that the odds were stacked against me that I would fall off the ridge. Somehow I managed to hang in there and it was a near miracle that I made it home. It’s deeply satisfying to have had the opportunity to play the game, where for a while it hung in the balance on every move. It felt like the ridge and I did battle and walked away with a healthy respect for each other, looking forward to the time we will challenge each other.
This flight should be good for a 3 Turnpoint Distance Standard Class National Record and a 1250km Diploma.
Many thanks are in order. Thank you Tom and Doris for
letting me stay at your wonderful bunkhouse and for the early tow. Thanks Phil
Chidekel for the weather forecast. Thanks John Bird for crewing for me and huge
congrats on your Diamond Distance! Thanks Mike Robison for letting me use your
logger; I ended up using your log!
Thanks a million to Aero Club Albatross for letting me use your wonderful LS-4. It has been a spectacular week of flying and I am deeply honored to have had the opportunity to use this sailplane to its potential.
I hope that the soaring community as a whole will appreciate that affordable gliders, especially in clubs can do wonderful things. And that clubs supporting their members in their sporting goals is the best way to grow this sport. Aero Club Albatross is the beacon that lights the way.
The past two days have alternated between being spectacular and frustrating, usually in close succession. On the one hand, we are really lucky to have some really nice soaring conditions in the summer time. It’s hard to complain when you are getting to 6500ft and 7800ft respectively. On the other hand, we’ve had to deal with storms, large sinkholes, and areas of rinky-dinky lift that made things more challenging. Nonetheless, 210 miles on thermals; that’s a fine day’s work.
Today Sean Murphy set our task. Wellsville – Loon Lake – Canton Lake – Harris Hill; Turn Area Task with a 3.5 hour minimum time. He flew the Duo Discus with Tom Hogrefe and also had a great time. The task was well set for the day.
It took a while for Noah and I to get connected with the lift. After release, we struggled to find a thermal. It took 20 minutes to get above release altitude, though the one that got us there was a real solid 4.5 knotter. This got us up to start altitude and we got going a little after 1:20 pm.
The conditions got cooking and we cruised along to the first turnpoint. Things slowed down on the second leg due to cirrus and mid-level moisture. We developed some altitude separation getting into Loon Lake and Noah did a good job of rounding the turnpoint a bit deeper and coming back with me at the same altitude.
The next leg got trickier. The working thermals got pretty far apart and we started to get some disconcertingly low points. At one of these points, I released Noah and he went ahead and marked the next thermal. This worked out well; we ended up minimizing the altitude seperation between us almost completely on this one.
Getting across toward Armenia Mountain, things got really tricky. We were down to almost 3000ft and few of the clouds were working. The one thermal that did work got us just high enough to poke into the high ground to the south. Noah picked up a weak thermal in the middle, but I wasn’t high enough to connect with him. I kept going, hoping to find a thermal toward Buttonwood Mountain. No joy.
At this point I was paying a lot of attention to the fields below me. None looked enticing. And then I realized that the windmills on top of the ridge were turning. Not very fast, but turning nonetheless. This perplexed me, because the winds were from all directions, but north today. I gauged whether the windmills were angled off from the ridge; nope… straight perpendicular. Well heck, if they are turning, then the ridge ought to be working. Maybe good enough for a save?
I got to the ridge, felt a woosh of more solid air and hung a right along the ridge. By golly, this might actually work! I floated along, slowly settling down. And several miles later, I hooked a bubble! The windmills were a bit disconcerting; I couldn’t make a full turn until way well above ridge top because I didn’t want to drift into them. And as I started climbing, the wind read only about 8 knots from 340 degrees. 500ft above, the wind went to zero. I have no idea where the wind came from or where it went, but all I can say is thank you very much. This got me up and away and heading back home.
Noah smartly turned in his weak thermal and headed back while he had the chance. However he was struggling along back to the north in survival mode. He dutifully reported this to me and I made every use of the decent thermals over the high ground. This got me to a MC 3.3 500ft over final glide, which I cautiously flew back home. 65-70 knots, slowing down in the good lift and speeding up to 75 knots in the sink. I held my breath a good ways. Even 4 miles out I was thinking I might need to do a rolling finish if I hit a bout of strong sink. But it actually worked out very nicely, for a very efficient final glide.
Team flying worked well today. When we were close together, we sampled the air well. We got separated twice, the first time reconnecting nicely. The second time, Noah relayed useful information which increased my speed. All in all, a great training day!
Yesterday developed quickly and just kept running away since there was no inversion capping the development of the clouds. It took a while to get going and when it did it went boom. We made a three hour task and struggled for a while until it got going nicely. Then we had a big rain storm heading our way at Towanda. We ended up falling out of the band and struggled over Armenia Mountain. A short nice leg later and we were heading back home. There was a nice shelf that developed somewhat downwind of course and this seemed (to me at least) a good way to get home. That was until a lightning bolt came right out of the cloud, perhaps three miles away right off my nose. That got our attention; it scared the daylights out of me.
We kept limping along, keeping a close eye on the cloud above and the rain off to the side. The lift was not particularly strong here; just enough to sustain while going straight. There was no easily defined alternative and we only needed to hang on for a little while longer before we had a safe final glide and could call it quits. When we did, we were very happy to slide on home and call it a day.
From a team flying perspective, it was a very challenging day. I had a hard time keeping up on the glides and the climbs. The lift band was “diverging”. This means that the lift gets stronger with altitude. When this happens and you’re the lower guy, it is no fun. I think the Discus CS (with Noah flying in it) slightly outperforms the LS4 and this made it hard to keep up. I had to pedal really hard all day. At the end of the day, I was zonked out. I was pretty much a zombie for the rest of the afternoon and evening.
Then Noah and Phil were bantering about the possibility of flying the Super Cub. Phil looked over at me and asked if I wanted to fly. That lifted me out of my stupor and got me excited again. We had a very nice sunset flight, enjoying the beauty of this gorgeous valley. Elmira is a really wonderful place to go in the summer.