Right Time, Right Place, Right Aircraft

Just time to catch up on this weekend before I disappear off on a weeks 'real' (non-gliding) holiday. I spent both Saturday and Sunday at the airfield, with a weather forecast that looked usable on both days.

As it turned out, the forecast was a little bit backwards.

Saturday

Saturday looked like if anything were to happen, it would probably be after lunch and it would probably be thermal soaring. Glider pilots are optimists and also want to be high up on the flying list, so I arrived as I normally do, for the morning briefing.

What followed was toasted fruit loaf and a cup of tea, whilst the two-seater fleet got going providing trial flights and lessons under a cloudless blue sky with relatively poor visibility, the likely result of an inversion that was keeping the warm air (and smog layer) trapped under a cooler layer above. At times, there were bands of strange grey cloud that appeared 'creased' - not the smooth wave type that we all want to be near, but rather something that we felt we wouldn't like to be flying under because it didn't look like it knew what it was trying to do.

Lunch was had and we stood on the launch point watching the sky develop further, few solo pilots had flown at this point and conversation became "is it time? are you going?". We had been watching the CFI take someone to around 4,500' ASL over the moors in the DG-1000, using the Spot The Gliders website, and the pattern suggested that it had to be wave - but none of us fancied following over the high ground with fewer landout options. 

Eventually, it was time, because an empty launch queue, and by now it was about 3pm and so there was less flying day ahead than had passed.

I pulled the DG-303 onto line behind the two seat DG-500. The launch ahead of mine was aborted further down the field. I was ready to go but the tug pilot wanted to speak to the glider pilot first, in case they had not been satisfied with the amount of crosswind on takeoff. I waited in the cockpit for the other glider to be retrieved.

As it turned out, the heavy glider in front had pulled the release because for whatever reason, they hadn't become airborne in time behind our Eurofox tug, but there was no expected issue in launching a relatively light single seater, so after the brief delay, we were on our way.

The tug pilot had been taking people to a spot that appeared to be working in some regard, and that's where he took me. At around 2,000' above airfield height after a somewhat rough tow out, I released having spotted a large bird of prey that appeared to be thermalling off to my left. I figured I'd join it.

As I turned out toward my target area, rough became smooth and the vario showed 4 kts up across the wind. I had (or the tug pilot had) found a local wave slot. All I had to do was not fall out of it, but it was easy to stay in, with a cloud bank that must have been 2-3km having developed to mark the extent of it, I would fly along one way until the vario hit zero, and then gently turn and fly back the way I came. 

I called the launch point at 3,000 QFE, confident that I could share the news that it was worth launching, and continued to climb. I drifted further north with the cloud, working it all the way to around 6,750' QFE (7,650' QNH) without having to work very hard at all. A personal best height gain and total height, and enough to claim my silver height leg. Lucky I had my logger on!

I quite fancied trying for 10,000 ft, the highest I could go without oxygen, but the sky indicated that it would involve flying out over the moors and I decided instead to go back the other way to see if I could pick up another developing bar without losing sight of the airfield in the murkiness below - there was enough altitude to go some way out, but the haze suggested that it might not be the best idea.

A further climb didn't happen; but a gentle descent provided a flight time of about 90 minutes and I was starting to get a bit thirsty. I worked a few of the rough thermals for some practice as I dropped into the unstable air but since I was quite satisfied with my days work, didn't extend the flight time too much.

Saturday night was capped off with a couple of drinks and a barbecue in the early spring sunshine.

Sunday

Sunday promised the return, late morning, of the westerly flow which meant that a ridge day was on the cards - perhaps with winching, and perhaps with wave. 

The morning briefing showed a rapidly approaching front that would change the wind direction and maybe deposit a little rain. You could see it out of the window, and it came as promised - only a couple of flights launched from runway 20 before we made the switch to 24 and re-hangared the single seaters in the anticipation of rain. The two-seaters stayed out, launching when they could and staying parked during the worst of it.

The front passed reasonably quickly and a decent sky started to develop behind it. Not a classic sky, but one that looked like it might be soarable. As promised, the wind suggested the possibility of ridge flying.

I was to be the days sacrificial lamb - the first single seater to launch, and if I wasn't back in 10 minutes, that would be the signal for the others that the afternoon was soarable.

A quick brief at the side of the glider suggested that a 20km O/R to Tontine was a good idea - it's possible to do that task at around 1,000' along the various ridge lines. Challenge accepted.

Once airborne though, I found workable thermals - there were large areas of cloud leaving big shadows across the ground, so I planned to scoot along the edge where I hoped it would be energetic.

Before even setting off on task, I found myself back down to circuit height and sitting on the ridge, trying to be collected by a decent thermal, and they were plentiful - I tried for many, couldn't centre some of them, rejected the ones that weren't strong enough and eventually landed a corker that carried me up to around 2,000 QFE, and so I set off along the ridge line, but too high for any actual ridge lift to help me just yet.

I glided out to Boltby before retreating back towards the airfield, some reasonably large areas of sink making me think better of things - but was able to pick up another strong 'home' thermal that topped out around 2,300'.

Take two and this time I carried on for some 13km, just 7km from my target before turning back at around 2,500 QNH (1,500 QFE) - I hadn't felt any lift for a while (although my trace seems to show that I hit some at the exact moment I turned for home!). I had a low point of 2,028 ft QNH (1,100 QFE) - circuit height - but I was still 9.6km from home. I was concerned, but not worried - I knew there was lift about, and I knew that I could use at least some of it, and I'd also got the experience from last year of being away from 'home' to fall back on, so there was less bottom clenching this time, and more aviating with purpose. Although this time I was lower, but that felt like it was to be expected. 

I climbed another 500 ft and used it to get to within 5km of home, and great thermal encouraged me to get back on task, I shared it with the club Astir who was out exploring the area and I think was glad of my marking it out for him as he joined it around the same height as I had.

I got back to within 6.9km of the Tontine and wasn't successful in topping up any further, so back I turned again - a downwind dash toward the ridge was on the cards, as I eyed up some nice looking fields on the other side of the A1(M).

This time, I had to head back for good because a call on the radio had indicated that other pilots were eager to get a launch. I rejoined the ridge at around 600' above airfield level having dialled back to QFE. I climbed back up to provide a safe circuit, and landed on 24 after a great little flight.

So, I didn't make my task, but I did make it home and so my belief in my own (and my aircraft's) abilities was bolstered a bit for next time.

It's still spring.