Experience Can Kill You

There are three ways to crash. The first involves factors well outside our control, such as a rope break at 150 ft with nowhere to land straight ahead. We tend to disproportionately worry about these kinds of events and yet they account for a very small proportion of accidents or fatalities. The second involves deficiencies in basic airmanship. This includes situations like confusing the gear handle for the spoiler handle and fruitlessly cycling the handle up and down while screaming down the whole length of the runway. Lack of experience or recency tend to be the significant factors. However, complacency or an unfamiliarity with a new aircraft systems could still bite experienced pilots.

The third kind of accident involves critical errors in judgment or decision-making. This is where many of us get into serious trouble. Accidents related to “when to stop soaring and start landing” fall into this category. Also relevant is when to abandon a task or determine that the conditions are too challenging.

Matt Wright’s and Dale Kramer’s accidents come to mind. Both cases were similar in that other experienced pilots flew in the same conditions and chose to abandon their respective flights. Both pilots were driven, pursued difficult weather and then drove themselves in situations that were unrecoverable.

Why is it so hard to avoid this trap?

The underlying issue is that glider flying is unforgiving of overstepping safety margins. And yet the margins are not clearly demarcated. The glider flies until it doesn’t and departs into a spin. We can clear a tree line over the last field before the airport, or over the top of a ridge, until we can’t. The outcomes are either we are unscathed or end up plastering ourselves into the ground.

Sure, we sometimes scare ourselves. We may realize that we “cut it too close” on a flight. But tragically, even this experience will not always help us.

Worse yet, as we expand our margins, we can slowly erode our way into the territory where we are at serious risk. Ideally we scare ourselves before we go too far, but not everyone is so lucky.

And more importantly, as our margins become thinner, the more we enter into the gray area where we might lose control of the situation. There are limits to our control; even the best pilot can only keep his airspeed within certain bounds, suppose +- 1 knot. If his aircraft is exactly at the edge of stall, he would have a 50 percent chance of failing. And extending this logic to other situations, just how low can we reliably clear a treeline? Or how low can we thermal near a field? And if we get away with it once, twice, ten times, twenty times, does it mean we can do it 100 times or 1000 times?

The problem is that we only need to fail once for it to be game over.

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The psychology of these kinds of situations is insightful. I found the paper, Decisions from Experience and the Effect of Rare Events in Risky Choice (Hertwig et al. 2004) to be especially relevant to this discussion.

To summarize their findings, they point out that decisions from “description” or “experience” are processed very differently. A doctor who has many years of providing vaccinations is likely to have never observed a patient have an adverse effect. A patient reads online that 1/9000 people experience complications. Both doctor and patient are processing the risks of adverse effects, but they are doing it in different ways.

Both kinds of judgment have been studied experimentally. An example of a decision made from description is playing a simple lottery:

Suppose you can take $2 for sure.

OR

You can flip a coin. If you land on heads, you will win $5. Land on tails, you win $0.

Which do you choose?

In this case, the description of the lottery provides clear probabilities and the payoffs.

In contrast, decision-making from experience would have you learn the probabilities and payoffs over time. For instance, I could give you three urns that each contains a total of 100 balls; red or white. The urns have 30, 50, and 70 red balls respectively.

You are given time to sample from each urn. You can take out a ball, mentally note its color and then put it back into the urn. You are allowed to repeat this process as many times as you like.

Finally, you are told to select an urn and pull out a single ball. If it’s red, you will win $5. If it’s white, you will win nothing.

If you spent a sufficient time sampling from the urns earlier, you will readily pick the third urn.

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Where decision-making from experience fails.

Now consider an urn that has 99 red balls and 1 white ball, but the white ball is radioactive. You might sample from that urn 20, 30, or even 50 times and never find that white ball. And maybe those red balls give you a pretty big payout each time. It would be awfully tempting to keep pulling the red balls from that urn.

That is until you stumble into the white ball and you die.

The fickle nature of safety risk in gliding is such that failure is rare, yet catastrophic. Much like sampling from an urn with a radioactive white ball.

And studies show that in such examples, people systematically under-weigh the risks of failure (Hertwig et al. 2004). When people rarely experience bad things, it’s especially easy for them to think it can’t happen to them.

But what about those times we got scared after a “close call”? Or when our friends crash? Usually this gives us pause and gets us thinking about our margins and choices.

The trouble is that when people base their decisions on experience, they over-represent recent events in their memory.

Rare events have less impact than they deserve not only because decision makers have not encountered them, or have encountered them less frequently than expected, but also because they have not encountered them recently” (Hertwig et al. 2004).

Unless you were recently scared, or someone recently had something bad happen to them, your experience is not necessarily going to help you avoid making a bad decision.

This is especially evident in glider clubs. Someone crashes, maybe even gets hurt and there’s that cathartic moment when everyone becomes safety conscious. Some time passes and everything return to “business as usual”. Then two years later, there’s another accident, and the process repeats itself.

We can’t help ourselves.

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What can we do about it?

One of my club members has a mantra, what can possibly go wrong? It’s usually easy to figure out well in advance that we might get ourselves into serious trouble. Suppose we’re watching our final glide bleed away and become marginal. Well if this continues, we may come up short, or we might just squeak it in. What are our options? What is our plan? How low are we comfortable pressing on?

There’s even more risk soaring in mountains or on ridges. On the Blairstown ridge, there have been countless incidents and accidents. Often time when I pass an accident site, I think about the poor fellow and what happened to him. This keeps reminding me of what could possibly go wrong.

When flying near places where I had scared myself, I visualize what happened. Passing through Snyders, I shudder when I remember how I fell off the ridge to the field below. Or how I crossed over Rt.81 uncomfortably low making the transition over to Bear Mountain. These incidents are seared into my memory and I routinely remind myself about them before entering comparable situations (maybe I should take that thermal an extra 500ft, thank you very much!).

This certainly makes the case that experience is helpful. But the point is that we have to actively summon past experiences for them to be useful.

Short safety talks in competitions or in clubs can also be helpful. Done well, they can remind people of what can go wrong and get them thinking about it in their routine flying.

Training

Training for judgment can be difficult. We try to provide simple tools for success. For example, when we start cross country soaring we are usually given rote heuristics for when to land in a field (3k- choose area, 2k- narrow down, 1k- commit to land). There’s a lot to be said that having strict decision rules is good for keeping us within acceptable margins.

However, this does not work in situations that vary considerably. For instance, ridge soaring does not lend itself well to making decisions by rote. Attempting a transition at a certain altitude can work well with one wind direction, but not if the wind shifts 30 degrees. Experience lets you predict the conditions and make the necessary adjustments. This is what makes it fun, but with room for judgment there is even more room for error.

And if things start going to hell in a hand basket, where and when to leave for a field can be tricky. There are places where you have to be high enough to clear the ridge to make it to fields downwind. Other times, there are fields on the upwind side, but you might have to glide out a considerable distance. Where and when you can make these fields will change depending on the wind speed, direction, expected sink and more. There’s a lot of judgment that goes into maintaining these margins.

It is impossible to prepare for or train for all of these situations beforehand. The only way to deal with these circumstances is to build experience incrementally. Even better is to be guided by experienced coaches or mentors who can alert you as to what can go wrong.

Another way to explore the limits is to fly in the simulator. Condor lets you fail without the consequences. You can see what happens when you fly too slowly near a ridge, turn downwind into the mountain, wait too late to commit to landing and all sort of other common and fatal accidents. This is useful toward learning the boundaries and the limits of what you can get away with.

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Decision-making research shows that glider pilots will nearly certainly under-weigh the likelihood of crashing. And unless we continually remind ourselves of what can possibly go wrong, we are susceptible to making really bad decisions. Experience is worth nothing unless we use it. We must learn from our mistakes and the mistakes of others. We must train incrementally and stringently maintain our margins.

And above all, remember that we are our own worst enemies.

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.

10-12-19 | Mt. Washington Wave Camp | Putting Lipstick on a Pig

It’s that time of the year again! What time??? Wave Camp!

For ten days in mid-October, Gorham Airport becomes one of the most spectacular soaring sites in the world. Gorham is a little town right at the base of the Presidential Range. This set of majestic mountains is located in New Hampshire, not all that far from the border of Canada.

The Presidential Range is a serious set of mountains. Sure, the west coast guys may snicker. But these are not like our normal eastern foothills; the highest one, Mt. Washington towers up to 6,500ft. That still might not sound all that high, but consider that the valleys are down at 850ft above sea level. Given that the mountain sticks what looks like straight up out of the winding valleys, it makes for an impressive sight.

Where there are impressive mountains, there are even more impressive waves. And being that Mt. Washington is the second largest mountain in the east, the waves are often as advertised. I’ve been up to 24,500ft in a 1-26 here, good for a Diamond Climb. Of my seven flights at this site, every single one had wave lift. Last year, a fellow climbed up to 33,000ft for a state altitude record. The soaring conditions here are simply spectacular.

Aside from the high peak, Mt. Washington also has the unique characteristic of being shaped like a venturi. This has the effect of radically funneling in the normally brisk winds at the peak. Scientists have recorded winds of over 200 mph at the weather station on top of the mountain and it’s not hyperbole when the local meteorologists claim that this location occasions the “worst weather on Earth”.

Naturally, all that wind has to go somewhere on the lee of the mountain. And on the east side, the mountain is shaped like a bowl. As a result, the wind spills over and gets focused into a narrower area, creating a monster wave. It works very well with wind directions ranging from southwest to north, thanks to the bowl aligning perpendicularly to many different wind angles. And the wave often times is considerably stronger than one would otherwise expect given a weak wind.

This is perhaps the most important feature of this wave site for it allows the wave to work almost all the time. The air not moving vertically out here is the exception to the rule. And this is also a very important consideration for folks looking for Gold/Diamond climbs in a 1-26; we can’t take these ships up to altitudes with very strong winds aloft! If you have to go much faster than 50-60 mph indicated, the sink-rate becomes excessive and you stop climbing. Here, the wave will work with weaker winds, allowing for much higher climbs for lower performing gliders.

All of these characteristics make Mt. Washington a mecca for wave soaring. And it only lasts for a short time, so folks from the area make the pilgrimage for this special occasion.

The neighboring clubs (GBSC, Franconia and Post Mills) all contribute to hosting the wave camp and invite others to come and join the fun. When it gets really busy, there can be 40-50 gliders all on the airport! It’s a narrow little grass strip, but it handles the carnival of glass very nicely.

I’ve been up here three times before and would come up every year if I could. Columbus Day is no longer considered a holiday in many academic calendars and this has made it a lot harder for me to come; it’s a long drive from New York/Philadelphia for a short weekend.

Aero Club Albatross is participating in this year’s camp, with four pilots flying the club’s 1-26E. Several of the club members are mining for Diamonds and I figured it would be fun to contribute. Steve and I came out to Blairstown on Friday and got 508 on the trailer without much difficulties and headed on our way. It was an eight hour drive through some of the most wonderful country.

I started my day in Philadelphia, ended up driving up to Blue Mountain, through the Delaware Water Gap. Then with the trailer up along the ridge, to the Catskills and across the Hudson not too far from Albany. And then across to Massachusetts via the Berkshires. And then a nice long ride up I-91 into Vermont and then a cut across to New Hampshire.

The drive was absolutely spectacular. The trees, mountains, rivers and towns are in the most glorious period of autumn. The foliage is at peak with all sorts of bright yellows, oranges and reds interspersed with the coniferous dark greens, go as far as your eyes can see. The carpet of color rolls along the land, up over the hills and down into the deep valleys. It feels like a living impressionist painting. The lighting changed as the clouds thickened or thinned. I’ve never appreciated how beautiful the trees are when the lighting is muted; it actually seemed to bring out some of the contrasts even more. For hours and hours, I was totally immersed in the beauty around me.

Since the weather was not promising for flying on Saturday, Steve and I did not bother putting 508 together in the darkness and instead went out to dinner. Not so many folks arrived yet, but the core group of diehard glider pilots was there. Among the most seasoned regulars is Rick Roelke. He’s a large fellow and his persona is certainly larger than life. Catching up with him and hearing all his stories about hang-gliders, racing virtual sailboats, going to art school, and flying magnificent waves made for a wonderful evening.

As advertised, on Saturday we were stuck on the ground due to the low overcast and the lack of a towplane. You can’t blame the towpilots as it is not easy business scud-running through the valleys, snaking your way between the mountains. Steve and I contented ourselves by cleaning up 508 and enjoying the really beautiful landscape around us.

Steve is confused in his attire with an amalgamation of summer, autumn and winter gear.

We put in a lot of work into 508. Aside from assembling it and tying it down, we redid all the external seals, cleaned the canopy, lubricated most of the control surfaces, cleaned and waxed the whole ship, and more. The ship looks nicer, but man it was brutal to try to clean it up. To use a club member’s expression, the ship looked like a “science experiment” with all the different colors of mold growing on it. Hard scrubbing succeeded in getting it cleaned up, but it hardly looks that much better. I don’t think I’ve taken off as much dirt and grime off of a glider and yet have so little effect in the end.

At one point Steve asked me if I wanted to try a more powerful product than Meguire’s cleaner wax.

I responded, “paint stripper?”

508 is a tired ship, that’s for sure. And it does look nicer from 20 yards now, so we can feel a little better about flying it.

One of the more interesting mods we did for cold weather flying was sealing in the tow-hook. Normally the tow-hook has a big gaping hole in it, which in turn directs a lot of cold air on your feet. That is inconvenient or unpleasant on a late spring day, but it is brutal up at 20,000ft. To solve this, we took off the nose cone and put in a neoprene seal over the tow-hook flange. Secondly, we put in a little bit of foam in the slit in the neoprene, to fully seal it without interfering with the mechanism. And finally we used a slit rug to put an additional layer between the pilot’s feet and the pedals. This coupled with Steve’s first-class tape sealing job should make the glider considerably more habitable at high altitudes.

One of the nuisances reported in the ship was a consistent squeak in the rudder. Having lubricated the controls, the squeak still persisted. Interestingly the noise seemed to be coming in the aft part of the fuselage. When I opened up the inspection port and reached in, I found a wasp’s nest lodged on the rudder cable! My hand shot out of the glider lickety-split, but luckily there were no angry wasps chasing me! The big glob of mud must have weighed a pound or so and it dragged the cable down enough that it was binding along the metal inside the fuselage. Wasp nest removed, the squeaking went away.

508 is now ready to fly and we’re looking forward to giving it a go tomorrow!

View from the motel room.

10-06-19 | Exploring New Ridges

As the year wanes, the summer eases into the mild and pleasant autumn. This is my favorite season, with the landscape transforming into a joyous palette of reds, oranges and yellows. It’s like the whole land celebrates another harvest, another trip around the sun, another successful cycle of life. There is the foreboding of the coming winter, as the days get shorter and shorter and progressively cooler and cooler. But perhaps this is why the land celebrates. Maybe it is to keep you in the here and now, enjoying the wonderful scenery, the beautiful life as you see it without thinking too much of the future. I love autumn.

Aside from a couple short flights in the backseat of the 2-33 and the Grob, I haven’t flown much since I returned from Hungary. Certainly not cross country or any interesting flights worth mentioning. So when the first solid cold front of the season was forecast to roll in, I felt the urge to fly again. Even better was that I was largely ahead on my week’s work. It looked like fate would have me fly on this nice ridge day.

Steve was the spark plug for the day, getting the tows organized and taking the first tow. By the time I drove up from Philadelphia, picked up Bobby, and arrived at the airport (a 2.5 hour commute nowadays), I saw Steve pulling 508 out to the runway. This is probably the first time in my recent memory that someone else was launching earlier than me on a ridge day, good for him!

But in any case, this motivated me to get the LS4 together and I worked diligently and efficiently. It is amazing how easily and quickly the whole process goes when you’re well practiced and eager to go. I had the ship together and prepped to fly within 25 minutes and that included helping get Bobby’s wings on as well! The wind already picked up, it was time to get on the ridge and go.

By the time the ship was on the flight line, Tommy was just arriving back from towing 508. Socks changed, in the cockpit and we were ready to fly. Cookie and Jonathan launched me and we were on our way.

It was a rough tow! I measure how challenging the tow is by how close I am to opening the airbrakes. Normally I am relaxed and don’t think about it. When it’s gusty, I have my hand ready to open the brakes in anticipation of big gusts and the resulting slack line, which was the case on this tow. Huge thanks to Tommy who was pummeled for half a dozen tows. He was a real sport doing all those takeoffs and landings in those conditions!

A quick tow to the ridge and the lift was working solidly. The wind direction was almost right on, perhaps a touch north of perpendicular. I drove onto the ridge and was easily established in the ridge band. A quick run up to Fairview Lake and then I was heading southbound.

Boy it was wonderful to be back on the ridge. After not flying it for a while, it all just comes back to you in a gleeful surge of memory. It’s a moment of joy, similar to when you come home after being away. You forget how familiar everything is.

Local ridge early in the morning. What a beautiful ridge!

The previous week I had hiked the local ridge with my father. We trekked from the Delaware River almost the whole way to Catfish Pond. The round trip took us a little over 9 hours and I was absolutely exhausted at the end of the day. It really put this ridge flying business into perspective when I flew the whole length of the hike in about five minutes! Soaring is absolutely amazing!

The ridge was pretty rough. Every once in a while the gusts would fling my feet off the pedals. I kept up a good clip for now, 90-100 knots, happy to play the conditions for now, but not any faster. The trees danced below.

By the time I got to Hawk mountain, the sky was bordering on overdeveloping. My first thought was that it wouldn’t be possible to make it upwind and to come back a bit later. The cloudbase was around 3500ft MSL and it didn’t look like it was working all that well. I tried to find a thermal and even went off the tip of Hawk to do so without much luck. But when I turned back, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to try to get to cloudbase and give it a try anyway. And at that point the thermals cycled in nicely and climbing up to cloudbase wasn’t too difficult. And given, why not attempt an upwind crossing? It was a bit trickier since there was not a clearly solid line and I wasn’t that high. But a thermal in the middle of the jump got me comfortably high enough to get across to Sharp. Very nice!

Nice cloudstreet!
Second and Sharp Mountains on the transition upwind.

With the solid northerly wind, Sharp was working gangbusters. Normally I’d be more inclined to thermal through this section if I was flying recreationally, but today it was just totally solid. Sparing myself the trouble of thermalling along, I just floated along in the ridge lift without breaking a sweat.

With the northerly wind, the line to Bear set up closer to Tremont. Again no troubles climbing up and an easy crossing to Bear Mountain. Bear had a line of lift that smelled a lot like wave. I fiddled around in the rotor a little bit, but the line was not staying stationary enough to be worth the effort, or at least so it seemed. Gus Johnson, the rascal, got up to 10,000ft in his 1-26! Evidently the wave was working well!

Bear Mountain. Maybe a hint of wave?

But in any case, I kept enjoying soaring the ridge and worked my way down the Mahantango. It seemed best to stop at the Susquehanna River with the overdeveloped sky ahead on Buffalo Mountain and the northerly wind. The OD can slacken up the wind and suppress the thermals; best to head back.

Susquehanna River. Buffalo Mountain is ODed, not looking good over there!
Mahantango, heading NE-bound.

It was only around noon and it felt disappointing that this was the most the day could offer. It didn’t excite me to go back to Blue Mountain and do laps and laps; I’ve done that plenty before. So as I was climbing to transition back to Bear, I looked upwind. There are two ridges there, Little Mountain (aka: Northumberland Ridge) and Nescopeck Mountains (Bloomsburg Ridge), both that I hadn’t flown before. This seemed like the perfect opportunity to fly with them; the northerly wind that should make them work very nicely!

It was a bit of a challenge getting from the Mahantango to Little Mountain. The cloudbase hardly lifted any higher, getting only up to 3800ft. With the stiff headwind, it was tough to buck the wind while maintaining glide back to the ridge behind me. Slowly but surely I made it around the tip.

The tip of Little Mountain, looking at the Susquehanna River. You can see the end of Shade Mountain in the distance.

What a beautiful Little Mountain (hehe)! The tip had a very cool perspective on the valley, with the Tuscarora and Shade Mountain off in the distance. Selinsgrove Airport was just the northwest, along with the broad Susquehanna River beside. With the ridge working solidly, I headed northeast bound, floating along at 85 knots or so. I enjoyed the view several hundred feet above ridge top.

Little Mountain NE-bound.

Trevorton was off my right, with the wooded landscape and strip mines from days past. To the northwest was a beautiful valley, with fields full of corn and cut hay. I saw a nice paved runway at Northumberland Airport and a beautiful little grass strip at the northeast end of the ridge. This would be a very nice place to fly gliders!

Time to make another jump to Nescopeck Mountain. This one took me freakin’ forever. Every time I climbed up, I drifted back quite a bit. It was two steps forward, one step backwards for a good half an hour. Finally one cloud higher than the rest took me to 4200ft and this was enough to comfortably make it across.

Heading upwind to Nescopeck Mountain.
Nescopeck Mountain NE-bound.

Nescopeck Mountain worked great! The Berwick Nuke plant beckoned in the distance, belching a huge column of steam. That plant offers a very consistent thermal when you need it; my nickname for it is “Ol’ Faithful”! I’ve hoped to fly this ridge on future triangles. It seems like a very nice way to get home from Lockhaven; climb up to 6000ft, do a glide to Nescopeck Mountain, pick up a downwind bubble from the nuclear plant and then glide across the Poconos to Cherry Valley. This would save quite a bit of time on the way home.

The ridge worked very nicely all the way up to where Rt.80 crosses through a gap. At this point the ridge loses a bit of definition and the fields become sparser. I floated along at 2300ft a little beyond the gap where Rt.81 crosses. Beyond this point the ridge fades away and becomes hardly usable. Time to head back.

Rt.81 Gap.

Since the cloudbase was still low, it wouldn’t work out well to cross back over the Pocono Plateau. As such, I flew the same way back as I got here, along the same ridges. This was a very nice fast run, with easy downwind jumps back to Little Mountain and Mahantango.

Berwick Nuke Plant (Ol’ Faithful!).
Nescopeck Mountain SW-bound.
Crossing back to Little Mountain.
Treverton, tucked away between the ridges.

With the sky cleared up, I flew the length of the Mahantango and took the chance to cross the river. The wind slackened a bit on the other side, but the ridge hung on a bit. It got soft enough that I was eager to take a thermal up when I found one at the tip of Buffalo Mountain. This let me plod back to the Susquehanna River and sneak back across to the better working ridge on the other side.

Second lap on the Mahantango.

Right as I crossed the river, I saw two bald eagles playing with each other. They left a thermal, flying wingtip to wingtip, occasionally getting in each others way! There were many birds migrating along the ridge system, though the five eagles that I saw were the highlights of the day. These majestic raptors actually take interest in your presence and are the most fun to fly with!

After this point, I worked my way back home. The sky ODed over Sharp, so it was a bit trickier to make the downwind jump back to Hawk. But finally a solid thermal took me to 2800ft and then it was easy sailing getting home.

Bear Mountain on the way home.
Pottsville; the Yuengling brewery is below in the large brick building.
Near Fitch’s Quarry during the golden hour!

It was freakin’ cold. My camelbak leaked and the sun was on my back. I was shivering the whole way home. Once back on the local ridge, I finished the leg to the Fairview and was eager to get back on the ground. The ridge was softening up anyway and I was pretty satisfied with the flight. Time to go to Blairstown.

Catfish Pond an hour before sunset.

When I landed, I learned that Bob Janney landed the club Pilatus in a field and a big crew went out to get him. Steve and Taz helped me put away the LS-4 and we hung around until the rest of the ACAers came home. Taz and I ate dinner and got pizzas for the ravenous club members, who arrived from the retrieve 10pm. We had a jolly time in the warm ACA shop, content at the completion of the first nice ridge day of the season.

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Thanks Aero Club Albatross for giving me the opportunity to fly the gorgeous LS-4. Thanks Tommy for the tow!

See the flight log here.

Thermal Soaring and Foraging Behavior

Animal, Cute, Eat, Eating, Forest, Fur, Furry, Mammal
Sourced from here.

Think of your favorite little furry animal. It burns energy all the time in order to stay alive. In order to get more energy, it must travel to places where it can find something to eat. It will spend time at those places, foraging for food and eating. Either when it is satiated, or when the cost of trying to get more food out of a given source becomes too high, it will move on to another food source.

It will have to scurry a certain distance to get to that food source. If this distance is high, then animal is in trouble for it will have little energy left by the time it gets there. If the distance is low, then the creature can be rightfully said to be “fat, dumb, and happy.”

What I just described is broadly an example of “foraging behavior”, something studied by ecologists. These are scientists out there who track animals and watch how they manage the problem of finding food and staying alive.

It probably does not take too much imagination to see how foraging behavior relates back to soaring. A pilot forages for energy by finding thermals, but instead of metabolizing energy biologically, he simply glides it out to the next thermal source. He forages for sites that are worth his time; thermals that are too far away, too weak or the like are not worth the trouble (usually!).

Even some equations in foraging theory have direct similarity to soaring, such as the prescient Marginal Value Theorem (pMVT). This dictates that given perfect information the time to leave a foraging source is when an alternative future source will provide more energy than in the immediate present state. This sounds a lot like MC theory! Leave the current thermal when your climb rate gets below the average expected climb rate for your next thermal. And interestingly enough, this model does a pretty good job of describing the point at which animals leave to a future foraging site.

So looking at foraging behavior, it provides another good analogy as to how glider pilots manage the optimization of climbing and leaving a thermal. Exploit lift until it gets weaker than a future thermal. Explore for an alternative once you cross a given threshold. Simple enough.

However, things get interesting when you start fiddling with the distance between foraging sites. For instance, suppose that there is no possibility of finding any more food beyond this point. It’s winter and your furry animal is at the last food source available. The conclusion is to tank up as much as possible and hope that this will last the creature through the dry spell. This is a similar deal when you have a distance day on a thermal flight and you’re in the last, weak bubble of the day. Take as much as you get and accept that this the best you will do.

But what happens when you’re not really sure whether there will be food at the next foraging sites or not? You go from place to place and you find one empty and another one too. You might even run out of energy and starve!

Suppose you recognize that there is a reasonable possibility that all possible foraging sites may run out while you’re still at a food source. How would this change your behavior?

My guess is that you would take everything you can get out of current foraging sites, accepting greater costs to do so. Your furry animal will eat every scrap off food here, even if its more work to do so. If you look ahead and see a sky that’s decaying and you suspect that this thermal may be your last, then you will be motivated to stay in it, even if its weak. And you will probably do the same thing in the next and subsequent thermal, should you find them and you still judge the conditions to be tricky.

The point is that when the distance that you traverse from a thermal to another thermal is uncertain and may even exceed the total energy you have available, the decision-making is much less straightforward than when you assume you will find a thermal and your goal is to simply optimize the current glide. For people who have followed my writing, this goes back to “Gear Shifting” and my work with John Bird on Bounded Rationality and Risk Strategy in Thermal Soaring. But I figured that this foraging example may be another way to look at risk management in thermal soaring using perhaps intuitive examples and fiddling with their variables.

08-10-19 | Day Eleven- Blaze of Glory

It was the last day of the competition and most of the pilots were getting tired, ready to pack it up and go home. Not the US Team! We were here to race and race hard. And we had a fantastic day in both classes, with all four of us making it in the top ten for the day!

It was another moderate-strength blue day. The wind was from the south, but it was to get really hot. The task-setter gave us a three hour Turn Area Task. We planned our route around the Tisza sinkhole and were ready to attack the day.

The grid was really fun today. The contestants were organized for a group photo and everyone was all together at the front of the gliders. Going back to the gliders, we were in a buoyant mood; it was so much fun being here! We were ready to make the most out of this day.

When we launched, we waited for a while for the conditions to develop. We were uninterested in playing the ridiculous start games from the previous day and were ready to roll our own. At 1:30, we topped out a thermal at the start line and dove for the task.

It turned out that the gaggle obliged by giving us chase. They left three minutes after we started and yet we somehow managed to hold them off!

We were driving hard. Team flying in the blue is very effective; we spread out, sometimes in a formation of three and sample the air. We call out when the air is lifting or sinking on one side and adjust the team accordingly. We managed to cleave along and maintain a good rhythm with the thermals.

The first leg worked out well. We had a couple markers at the back of the sector and pretty much maxed it out. The second leg slowed down a bit when we got a bit low in the band. And we didn’t realize that the gaggle started so close behind us as there were gliders catching up to the north of us. For a couple minutes we were really downtrodden; we thought that we had gotten rolled by 15 minutes! But Noah stepped in and said stop feeling glum and let’s kick back into gear already! There’s a lot of day left!

And sure enough, we drove to the back of the second sector and had the gaggle lined up in front of us. Most turned early in the previous sectors! Standard Class had started around the same time we did and were nicely marking our thermals to the east. Now we have to drive really hard; we have to stay connected with the group!

Pilots were floundering. They were climbing in stuff that was too weak up high. We left when the lift dropped to less than 2 knots and kept the pressure on.

At one point I hooked a bubble that JP and Noah didn’t connect with. I led out with the additional altitude, giving them information about the conditions ahead. Getting into the Tisza valley of death, I reported softer lift. They made consistent progress and I stayed one thermal ahead, noting my climb rates. They found a good thermal over the river itself (a 3 knotter for crying out loud!) and I found one under the gaggle over a town on the east bank. Upon reporting back that it was cycling in from 2 to 4 knots, they drove on in and caught me at my altitude.

That was some fantastic team flying!

After topping out that climb, we floated back westbound. There were gliders in fields and the conditions were softening up. It seemed like many pilots were flailing around like headless chickens. Don’t succumb to the temptation, keep the pressure on. Don’t turn in 0, move on. We floated our way to the better air to the west and picked our way up through the top of the gaggle.

Coming out of the final turn, we found a solid 3.5 and worked our way up. Once we were on an optimal glide, Noah and I charged out. Others were over-climbing as usual and we drove in for a perfect final glide. With good air near Szaytmaz, we finished wingtip to wingtip, going 200 km/h! We reported back final glide info for JP and he came in very close behind us.

Most of the time starting in front of the gaggle is competitive suicide. We didn’t expect them to go for a considerable time longer than after we went. However, by flying efficiently we managed to avoid getting rolled and falling off the back of the day on the final leg. This led to a very satisfactory result for us.

Alas, today was the last day of the competition. When we landed, we got to work getting the gliders cleaned up and packed away to go back to the Netherlands. All the crews were on deck and we got the ships in good shape pretty quickly. We enjoyed the party in the evening and headed back thrilled about our great day and a largely well flown competition.

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See my flight here.

See our scores here.

There are many thanks to go around. First off, I wanted to say what a blast it was flying with JP and Noah. We got totally dialed in with each other and were flying very well. It was an honor sharing this flying experience with you guys!

Thanks to Luke DuPlessis for being an outstanding crew! He was the best crew I have ever had. Conscientious, responsible, motivated, even-tempered and excited to be part of our team. He assembled and gridded the glider on a daily basis. He programmed the tasks and downloaded the flight logs. He was responsible for the equipment and made sure everything was charged and in working order. And he retrieved me several times. He was just totally awesome!

Thanks to John Good, our fantastic Team Captain! He is the master organizer and has been to over 20 World competitions of all different kinds. He did a great job of keeping track of the tracking and weather while we were flying and relayed this information accordingly. His fantastic stories and sense of humor make him great company for the three weeks we spent together. One of his riddles took us three days to solve!

Thanks to all the people who have helped make the logistics work out for us in Europe. Rein, Rene, and the great folks at Glider Rent, you guys are the best! And I wanted to point out that the LS-4s from Glider Rent in the Netherlands were absolutely outstanding. Well equipped and an absolute delight to fly. I highly recommend these guys for finding a competition-ready sailplane in Europe!

Thanks a million to all our supporters back home. You guys made it happen for us. This year we had more people chip in and support the Junior team than any previous year. And then there are the many people and clubs who have lent us tools, gliders and support. We are deeply honored to all the folks back home who have given us the opportunity to represent our country and we hope we did you proud.

08-09-19 | Day Ten- And the Gaggle Goes Round and Round

Today was a great day for the US Team! We all made it around a short Racing task, with the Club Class team driving hard with the fast gaggle. It wasn’t especially fast on the scoresheet thanks to waiting a ridiculously long time to start.

The task-setter was not terribly optimistic this morning and set a short 165 km task. The weather quickly developed up to forecast for once; we were up to 1500 meters and there were even wisps in the task area. Instead of the slow struggle that everyone geared up for in the morning we were getting ready for making serious speed.

What a difference it was from yesterday! Being up at 1500 meters rather than 950 just looked like a completely different universe. We were relaxed and I was even getting a little sleepy going round and round in the flat start gaggle. We are going to have to wait a long time for this group to go.

Close to 1:30pm and the early starters started to go. The gaggle kept going round and round.

2pm…. 2:15…. Okay this is getting ridiculous. The day is going to start tapering soon, let’s go already!

2:30…. !!!!!!!

2:45pm, the Germans finally couldn’t take it anymore and filed out of the gate.

And the race was on. We managed to resist the urge to go for a minute and then went full afterburner. 18 gliders were driving hard now.

When chasing down a gaggle you have to drive as hard as you can possibly go. Get dropped off and you’re done. We are riding the end of the day; if you fall off the back there’s a good chance you *will* land out. You’re in for a real Nantucket sleigh-ride when racing a group.

First thermal and you pull in tight and hard into 4 knots. The top elements are starting to leave, gotta get ready to go. The first sign of the lift tapering off and you dive out toward the next one. Eyes are focused on the whole group of gliders, watching which ones are rising and falling in the glide. The US team in turn was providing lift and sink reports

1.9 down on the left...

1.1 on the right… shifting right!!

Glider turning 11 o-clock low.

Tally ho! 160 kmh?

160!

We managed to catch up to the Germans quite quickly and rounded the first turn with them. Then the conditions fell apart ahead and we were getting lower and lower.

One of the annoying features of these kinds of gaggles is that usually handful of people lead them and most leech off the back. When things got tough and the US team found itself at the front, we fanned out with the Germans to try to find the next thermal. When we did, I was at the very bottom end and missed the bubble. I watched the whole herd come in above me and out-climb me. Now I was chasing from below, desperate to avoid falling off.

When the thermal tapers off, you have to go. If you stick around in 1 knot trying to get back in the band, they’ll drop you like a set of car keys.

Approaching the Tisza River, it got weak. We were watching pilots on final glide back home and we weren’t even halfway done on this task. The thermal weakened and I had to leave low once more over the valley of death.

Crossing toward the turn there was a nice large town that would hopefully generate a thermal. David Collins flying 1A started with us and got ahead of the group. He was sitting in 4 knots and I dropped the nose to catch him. And sure enough, I connected with a strong bubble and worked my way back up to the whole group. What a relief!

Coming back across the river, we once again got slowed down and struggled in 1-2 knot lift. Noah left with the Germans when it got weak and the thermal recycled for JP and myself. When Noah reported that the lift was better ahead, we dove off ahead and connected with him.

But it wasn’t there when we just arrived and moved on. Now we were driving the gaggle.

Looking ahead we were going to better terrain over the third turn. We were far enough from the river and we were heading toward infrastructure and a couple wisps. Maybe we could find a decent thermal there?

We dumped the nose and drove along with the gaggle giving chase. At the turn there was lift but it was not organized. We flailed around a bit and the herd came in above. Damn!

But little by little we managed to find bubbles here and there to work our way up. By being in gear, we managed to outclimb the bunch and get ourselves in a good position for the last leg. Finally we were once again with the Germans, gliding along toward a thermal marked by 1A. It was a solid 3 knots and we were now looking at final glide.

Final glides are my specialty on this team. I rarely bust them and yet I consistently gain on others by being a bit more aggressive when it’s appropriate. And looking ahead I can see a nice road, infrastructure and wisps along the way. The air was lifty and the spacing of thermals was close. This was a day we could bump up very nicely.

So when the glide computer was in the ballpark, I announced I was leaving the thermal.

Noah and JP were surprised as we were a bit low on the glide, but gave chase. We left the whole bunch behind us.

And sure enough, the glide improved and we got fatter and fatter. JP nailed it and cruised on home. I pushed over a bit early and then had to pay for it when I hit some sink just short of the finish and had to slow down. Noah was in the middle. But in the end we beat all but the British home; those guys were well on top of the last thermal and just mowed everyone down.

In the end we were among the top finishers of our starting group. What a fun day!

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See my flight here.

See our results here.

Thanks to all our supporters back home who have given us the opportunity to represent our country at the Junior Worlds!

08-08-19 | Day Nine- Low, Weak, and Blue

Today was a great day for the US Team! The conditions were very weak, but things worked out well. Club Class lumbered around all landed out again. We landed pretty much with the leading elements of the group. Standard Class hardly made it out of the start gate, with several landing out in the vicinity of the airport and most landing back home. But things worked out well for us today!

In the morning briefing, we were concerned with the weather forecast. Halving the meteorologist’s report (typical calibration at this contest) left us with less than 1000 meters to work with. When we launched, we struggled to get up to 1100 meters and then it just cycled down and down.

The start gaggle was really impressive today. We were all going round and round at 900 meters, struggling to stay much above release altitude. Finally at 2:45pm, the gaggle exploded on course and we gave chase. We were in a great position to start; a bit in trail and covering the gaggle well.

It was a real struggle. The working band was 500-900 meters, with the terrain elevation between 80-150 meters on course. I think this was the lowest I had ever ventured out on course and the farthest I went in such weak conditions.

The gaggle did its job very well. Every couple of kilometers it would find a thermal and everyone would converge to climb. There was a delicate balance between taking 1 knot lift and avoiding falling behind the leading elements.

Approaching the first turn and a bunch of us were falling out. I developed a bit of a lead on JP and Noah and tried a gaggle thermal down at 250 meters. Not much; climbing hardly at 0! They found a two knot thermal just behind me and I bolted right over to them. We all climbed out, covering the gaggle struggling along just in front of us.

In and out of the turn and the day was definitely cycling down. A thin band of high cirrus moved over. This was not a good sign considering that this day was on life support as it were.

The terrain ahead was not trivial for landing out. There were sections of forest to contend with and we were very careful to both stay connected with the group without venturing into dicey terrain. We kept plodding along, every thermal working worse than the previous one.

After rounding the second turn, we joined a gaggle hardly more than 1000 ft AGL. This group was milling around in zero, figuring this was the last thermal of the day. After the thermal turned into weak sink, a bunch of us left. Down at 600ft, I tried a couple turns in a nibble and then called it quits. I did a pattern into a field while watching others glide straight out into fields ahead. This required gliding quite low over a town and then into fields that looked like they had crop in them. Not for me.

My field was reasonably long, though had a little bit of crop in it. The soil was sandy and I stopped very quickly. I duly noted this to Noah, who passed up my field accordingly. JP landed at Szatymaz Airport.

Clement Fick flying FAY, another LS4 also landed with me. We flew quite a bit today and had a good time while waiting for our crews to arrive. He flies in northeastern France and this was his first Junior Worlds. He is working on becoming a fighter pilot!

I helped him move his glider closer to the edge of the field. Thoroughly winded, he informed me that his crew has a small pickup truck that could easily drive in the field. My glider was further toward the middle and we would drive ourselves to exhaustion trying to move it out from there.

Our rescuers arrived pretty quickly and we got to work getting our ships out. I was very thankful that they helped pulled 8M out. It turned out that the Volvos could drive on the sandy soil without getting stuck, but it was something I was not inclined to explore. Thanks to the French team we got the ships out in no-time!

And we were considerably luckier than a bunch of others. Apparently several gliders landed in a plowed field several kilometers away and all of them needed to be carried out. It was a fantastic cross-cultural bonding experience!

We had a great day today. No one completed the task once more and we were right up there with the leading elements when we landed out. These kinds of tasks are entirely fair game at a Worlds. The goal is to safely get everything out of every day. If it means a short task in weak conditions, that’s great! I was astounded how far everyone flew with so little to work with.

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See my flight here.

See our scores here.

Thanks to all our supporters back home who have given us the opportunity to represent our country at the Junior Worlds!

08-07-19 | Day Eight- A Little Taste of Heaven

The US Team once again had mixed results. Unfortunately Michael in Standard Class landed out in the Tisza River valley of death. The Club Class team finished solidly in the middle of the pack, having done nothing spectacular or disastrous on course. This was a strong improvement relative to the previous two AAT tasks. But given all that, we had a very fun day, getting to play around in wave before start.

The weather forecast looked quite reasonable in the morning, but apparently not for the task-setter. When the task is not ready at briefing, this is usually a big worry! By the end of the briefing, they revealed another 3 hour AAT. It looks like they want us to get home today for the Hungarian evening, even going so far as stating it explicitly.

We went out to the grid early to fiddle with the Kobo, my secondary flight computer. It was kind of odd being around 80 gliders without a soul present. They kind of looked like a big herd quietly grazing on the grass.

After we launched, the weather improved quite rapidly. We had no trouble getting established up at 1600 meters, under rising Cu. What a change!

Looking around, it was clear that there was wave working over the building cumulus. In some blue areas there was smooth, weak lift. If we can only connect…

And then under a beautiful Cu and with a big gaggle, we were propelled in front of the cloud. And it worked so well! A solid two knots at the transition point into perfectly smooth air. About 20 gliders had the same idea and we were all ridge soaring the front of the cloud in one big conga line. I have never been around so many gliders wave soaring at the same time!

It is funny watching gliders wave soar. They typically waffle along at minimum sink, with their nose way up in the air. The image that comes into my mind is that the pilots are sitting on their turtle deck, trotting along in their glider like on a horse, reins in one hand and waving with the other.

Being above the clouds, with my team and with a whole bunch of other contestants to share the experience was one of the most fantastic experiences I had ever had at a contest.

We climbed a good 600 meters above the clouds. The start was open and we watched the British team go. We were drifting downwind with the cloud, so if we wanted to use the height advantage we had to do it now. We would be starting early, but man was this tempting or what? We went for the task.

In retrospect, this was a mistake. Even having a height advantage at start does not outweigh the advantages of starting with a group. But in any case, it was really fun crossing the start line above the clouds.

We went chasing after the Brits and the early starters, trying to stay in good air along the way. The wind was vicious, 15-20 knots. The thermals were all torn up early on and we all struggled to keep moving along. We all got down to 550 meters in the first turn, took it relatively early and shot off downwind.

Heading downwind to the second and third sectors worked out reasonably well. We stayed high to milk the tailwind and to stay connected with the good air up high. The lift strength was tapering off at 1600 meters, although the cloudbase was easily 2000 meters. It paid to be higher downwind, taking slightly weaker climbs but taking advantage of the strong tailwind.

Going into the third turn we had a choice; turn early or go deeper down a street. If we got slow going deep, on the way out we would have the gaggle crashing in behind us. If we went fast down the street, we would smoke everyone. It felt like a good gamble.

Unfortunately, the street failed to deliver us a thermal. We had a great run in good air, but then had to turn around low and into the headwind. We ended up getting stuck for five minutes, just staying airborne in a 1 knot thermal. The gaggle caught up. We lost a bit on that one.

But now we had company and this was great news. The conditions were deteriorating ahead.

The whole mass of gliders struggled along into the 1-2 knot thermals and in the strong headwind. And ahead was the Tisza River of death. We had to get high before crossing it.

The herd limped along and we dutifully stayed with it. They were going along the only line of wisps that had any chance of working.

Slowly but surely we worked our way up to a MC 3.3 final glide. On crossing the river it dropped down and we got a bit worried. But then we found a fantastic wind line. The glide kept getting fatter and fatter, going up to MC 5 200 meters over! Many pushed on over and nipped the final turn and finished in a blaze of glory. Instead of burning off the height, we extended up the wind line into the final turn area and made a more efficient glide. I think we easily gained 20 points on this decision.

The three of us were content, but not thrilled with our performance. Strategically, we gave up a lot by starting too early. Tactically, we lost a bit on the downwind run. However, we are happy that we had a respectable performance on an AAT for once. Flying AATs in the Worlds is very different from back home. The typical theory is that AATs split people up such that the gaggle more-or-less dissolve. And that you *should* start near the optimal start time as flying the peak of the day is the right thing to do when you don’t have other people to work with.

However, AATs in the Worlds still have a good bit of gaggling and start-gate roulette. Perhaps with tracking being as sophisticated as it is nowadays it is not possible to disappear into the ether. In the end, the same rules apply as in Racing Tasks; you have to go with the group and stay with the group. Rolling your own is a bad strategy.

Later in the evening, the organizers invited everyone to a Hungarian evening. It was a wonderful event with great food and music. We spent quite a bit of time with our Danish and German friends. The Juniors are very friendly and these contests are really fun. The attitude and camaraderie is very unique.

One especially interesting note that came up in conversation with our German friends is when we asked how they qualify to represent Germany at the Junior Worlds. They said they have to fly a qualifying regional or two to get invited to fly in the Junior Nationals. The Junior Nationals have 80 contestants between Club and Standard Classes. The highest performing pilots in both classes earn their spots to fly in the Worlds.

Quite a different world!

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See my flight here.

See our scores here.

Thanks to all our supporters back home who have given us the opportunity to represent our country at a World competition!

08-06-19 | Day Seven- Train wreck

The Club Class team had a rough day today. JP did better, finishing respectably in the middle of the pack. Noah and I tanked. We completed the task at a very slow speed after having made a lot of tactical and strategic errors. It felt like a day we pinballed ourselves into the worst solutions. In the end, we came in 25 minutes under-time with a 500 point loss for the day. At least we didn’t land out and do worse.

I was exhausted from the marathon the previous day. I didn’t get a good night’s rest and pretty much staggered out to the airport. The day was trickier and the task-setter settled on a three hour AAT. I think it was a Mea Culpa to try to get everyone around for the day.

High cloud cover, slow starting and blue conditions made it tough early on. The gaggle kept waiting and waiting and waiting to start. We miscalculated on the weather this day. We thought it would collapse considerably earlier than it did and were very antsy in the start.

We were patient and waited along with everyone else. Noah found weak wave and was having a great time up at 1700 meters. JP and I fell out of the band and struggled to get back in starting position a little after 2pm. Finally the herd went and I was close enough to Noah that we started together. JP was still struggling to get up, but we couldn’t wait at this point. He managed a good start with the Germans.

Noah and I left with the Czechs and connected with a solid first climb under a Cu. I climbed well and caught up to Noah, minimizing the 500ft separation on the start.

We limped along into the first sector and had a big decision to make. There was a line out in the distance and we pondered whether to go. It was decided that it was too much of a gamble and we turned at that point, along with the Czechs.

This was a big mistake. It cost us 200-250 points as it worked out well for those who went there.

Approaching the Tisza River, the conditions softened up. We climbed up, though not quite to cloudbase. The Czechs left above by about 400ft and headed for the turn. When we left, it was dead smooth. Not climbing to the top was a tactical error. When we got to the turn, we were too low to comfortable make it back and parked in half of a knot to get a bit higher. The Czechs turned though there were gliders ahead. To compound the tactical error, the gliders ahead found three knots for a solid climb back across.

We climbed up maybe 100-200 meters and that got us back across. We found a weak 2 knotter and worked our way up. We deviated north, heading downwind of the airport toward a promising Cu. It did not work.

Now we were falling out of the band. The guys who did better went double or nothing; heading further north toward a line of clouds. Seeing how our day was working out up until this point, both of us agreed that this was a bad bet. It was approaching 5pm and the clouds had not worked out all that well this late in the day. We thought others were struggling as we were and decided to climb at all costs.

We fell down to 550 meters and dug out. At this point we had one more opportunity to head west and passed. Between these two opportunities, we lost another 250 points. We were boxed in; we could either head west or south back home. We chose to go south, came in way under-time and accepted a meager performance for the day.

As Ned Kelly said, such is life.

When we got back, we got the gliders back in the box, had a quick dinner and collapsed in bed. I had well over 12 hours of rest after this one and I’m in much better shape to fly. Wednesday looks like a much more straightforward day. We have four more contest days to perform well and we are looking forward to doing so.

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See my flight here.

See our scores here.