If only I'd launched 9 minutes earlier...

Since my cross country course, I've been continuing to fly whenever I can. I'm still working toward my goal of achieving the bronze certification as well as my cross country endorsement.

For the Bronze, I'm mid-way through my check flights. I've been subjected to spins, awkward launch failures, spot landing checks, and a DG-1000 that seemed to refuse to do what I wanted - doubly annoying when it's an aircraft you know you've flown well before, if not often.  I've been forced to take a pause from the assessments due to unfavourable conditions that would have made everything much more difficult than it needs to be.

The last signature needed for the cross country endorsement is 'simply' a 2-hour solo, soaring flight and it has so far proved somewhat elusive. On two occasions prior to the course, I have given up perfectly good flights around the 90-minute mark in order to give somebody else the chance to fly the aircraft I was using. Those flights were in predictable thermic conditions where solid climbs to around 4,000' QFE have been available and we don't seem to have had as much of that lately, or at least not on the weekends.

So in order to use up the last of my annual leave before the new allocation kicks in at the end of June - I have been staying with my family in a rented cottage which had only been available this week. I managed to fly on 5 of the days I was there and the clear plan was to achieve one or both of my aims.

Saturday 10th June was a washout and the first day of my break, so I took the opportunity to stay in bed and have a leisurely drive up to the accommodation in the afternoon. Sunday was flyable, but with those that flew reporting very turbulent air containing no lift, the general consensus became that flying wouldn't be fun and the launch fee would be money wasted.

Monday and Thursday were winch days (I had to do some family stuff on Tuesday). The 25kt strength of the gusts meant that aerotowing was an unsuitable launch method and that in turn meant I couldn't fly solo on either day. I have been cleared to fly a K-21 on my own from the winch three times now, and each time, the weather has been uncooperative. The first time, it was rain. The second time, a slackening wind depressed the ridge and halted winching for everyone, and this time, strengthening gusts caused a change of mind for the duty instructor - declaring it not a day for inexperience on the wire.  Wednesday was an aerotow day, however - albeit with a thick layer of high cloud all but cutting off thermal activity down below. I took two launches in an Astir single-seater, getting 27 minutes and 52 minutes as reward for my efforts, with the latter launch being at 4:20pm.

Friday was an interesting day. An approaching weather front from the Southwest brought some wave conditions ahead of it, which I thought might offer me a golden opportunity to complete my two hours. Taking no chances, the tug pilot took me straight to where I needed to be.

The cloud was almost total. Having been towed to a gap, I exploited it for perhaps a turn longer than I should have and as I went to head back along the edge, I found it had closed beneath me. I had no real choice other than to make a cloud descent.

I pulled the airbrakes, and headed for what was left of the gap. I flicked the S-80 variometer into horizon mode and used it to maintain a descending turn without generating excessive speed that could see me drift too far from the airfield or worse, damage the aircraft.

Once below the cloud base, which was steadily descending (eventually ending up at around 1,500') I worked what more of the lift I could find, before joining the ridge to try and squeeze out the last few minutes. At around 650', I decided to play it safe and call it a day - finishing with a flight of 1:51 - agonisingly 9 minutes short.

Most of the days visitors to the airfield packed up and left; I stayed around - intending to stay for the night and see what Saturday would bring. The duty instructor, with nobody to instruct, took off in the DG-1000 for a mutual flight to go and sample the evening wave conditions, which were still present from earlier.

I was sat in the members lounge, with the tug pilot and another glider pilot. We were using the 'spot the gliders' website and noting the DG-1000 was somewhere out towards Ripon at 7,000'.

"Shall we go and put these gliders back in the hangar then?", suggested the tuggie.

We all agreed, and headed outside.

"Or.... you could fly it. I could take you up into the wave?". He was obviously bored. I had flown almost two hours already earlier in the day, but almost wasn't good enough, and there was still a good four to five hours of daylight left.

Needless to say, I didn't take that much persuading.

We readied the K-21 for launch just as the DG-1000 re-appeared in the circuit and landed along 24. We waited, and the duty instructor came over and offered some information on the conditions.

"The wave is very gentle", he said, "Don't let it catch you out."

I had already let it catch me out once that day, and decided that the advice was good. We launched into the wave, found a gap, and I released into it.

Once again, the flying was easy. I just flew up and down the edge of the cloud, riding the airflow and gaining height without really needing to do anything but look for other traffic and maintain contact with the ground. The airfield was obscured by cloud, but I could see Thirsk racecourse, which I used as a landmark to ensure I didn't get too far away from home.

When the racecourse started to also disappear under cloud, I decided it might be a good time to learn how to use the glider's GPS. In retrospect, it would have been a good idea to have learnt that before needing it - but operation was fairly straightforward, and I soon had a screen with a distance and a bearing to get home. I didn't recognise many of the ground features that I could still see, but I never went more than the regulation 5 miles from home. I had easily more than enough height to make it back from where I was and I also knew that if anything, I would be drifting back toward the airfield rather than away.

Eventually, the wave gap began to close - and I didn't fancy another cloud descent, not least because the glider didn't quite have the level of instrumentation that the Astir had, so once again, I pulled the brakes and this time, managed to drop through the gap and back onto the home ridge. The clouds chased me down, and after a while, they were only 900'. I monitored the developments closely, just in case they sank any lower and threatened to obscure the runway.

Thankfully, the cloud base stayed at around that height, and I used what I could of the remaining ridge lift until reaching about 500', a check of the windsock on the clubhouse indicated that the wind had dropped and had changed direction, so I turned a short base and landed down the long runway.

Would you believe it - 1 hour 51 minutes AGAIN. At least I didn't have to buy a round of drinks!