Soaring Report for August 29, 1999

SFO Report - SUNDAY 8/28/99 John Farrington

A busy day at Sterling, started off inspecting damage done to 76PS, big bad bully of a Stearman ran over the innocent little B4. Actually the Stearman wing went over the B4 wing, while the B4 was tied down. So now we have a Red, White and Blue, with yellow stripes paint job. Damage does not look major, but prudence reigned supreme, and we left it tied down until a mechanic can look at it.

Tony ran his second Franconia ground school in as many days. If any of you newer members missed it, don't let it stop you from going North, always enough people up there to fill you in on what you missed. Soaring at Franconia is an experience that should not be missed. If you are concerned about the cost of rooming up there for a week, just get up at O:Dark hundred, check the Weather Channel, and take the 2 1/2 hour drive. Abandon the wife and kids at "The Old Man of the Mountains" and scoot over the hill for some great flying.

Found out why Dezi's sandwiches always look half as big again as anyone else's. They are. He took Jessica, the waitress up for a ride, this his third ride for the help down at the cafe. It would be a lot cheaper for him to just buy an extra sandwich, but I am sure Jessica's smile, was worth every cent invested.

Day started off blue, with a dirty haze layer. First few flights were in severe stable air, but as Cu's started off to the north the glass fleet launched. They were gone for the day. As all ships have to be off the field for the Sterling Fair, we seen a lot of familiar faces as they loaded up for the trip. We closed early as we had to start moving equipment North. Sometime around 2:30, Charlie Ryan took the Pawnee along with Renee, in a 2-33, and Peter Stauble, in the 1-26, in tow for the first trip North. They were followed a short while later with Jim David, towing Bob Boyd in the other 2-33 and Shawn in the Blanik. So with no tow planes, all that was left was to box up the B4.

We put the uninjured B4 in the box, 50-60 years of flying experience, being led by the clubs youngest pilot, but Joey was the only one among us who had ever put one away, and we had it done in no time.

See you up North

John Farrington

Other news.....................................

Bill Maxwell is now the club's newest private pilot! Congradulations Bill! Enjoy!

New Pegasus owners - Jim David, Tony Verhulst, and Doug Smith

New 1-34 on the field

Shawn Brown is now the proud owner of probably the finest example of any SGS 1-34 around! Shawn purchased the glider from Mike Bogen who sadly lost his life to cancer a few months ago.

Back at Sterling, if only for a short time --------Arnd Wussing

Here goes:

After being in rainy and clammy Germany on an extended business trip for most of August, I yearned to get back to Boston and out of the rain; especially after hearing about the extreme drought in New England. I arrived in town last Thursday evening and must have inadvertently packed quite a bit of the wet stuff into my suitcase. The rainy weekend was a disappointment for me as I had looked forward to doing some soaring (and storytelling) at Sterling and was scheduled to depart again on Wednesday morning (which is coincidentally now, the moment of writing this recollection and I find myself somewhere over the Mid-West at flight level 300 in a Boeing with almost the same glide ratio as the 2-33 mentioned later).

I had read that Dick would be towing on Monday, but at noon I went outside and saw 5/8 high cover overhead and despaired. At 13:00 I went outside again - the overcast had dissipated and there were Cumuli forming all over. My 30 minute bagel-break instantly transformed itself into a half day off and I was fortunate to avoid the attentions of the State police on my trip to Sterling. Fortunately, Dick had yet to (figuratively) throw in his airman's goggles and scarf for the day.

The Pawnee was still on the field and I sauntered over to our ships when I got a rather nasty surprise. Much to my dismay, both of the B-4's were GONE! The Blanik was also absent, the ropes and assorted tiedown gear strewn haphazardly across the grass. Even the 1-26 tiedown area was suspiciously bare... Close to panic I checked the lower area just in case the everything had been rearranged during my absence. No luck, all gone. The only thing flyable in sight were the club's two 2-33s, albeit some might argue over the definition of "flyable". After letting my eyes drift between the 2-33, my car and cumulus clouds for an eternity (couldn't have been more than 3 seconds), I walked over to 41S and began readying it for departure. As I did so, Tony flew by on his first flight in the Pegasus and all hesitation disappeared - I wanted to fly.

Within a couple of minutes I had been towed to the flight line and pre-flighted my ship while the 1-26 was being launched. I had just completed preparations when the Pawnee taxied up; I hooked up the ship, jumped in, and within seconds we were airborne.

I released at exactly 3000' AGL into a wonderful 5000'/Min thermal. Even more surprising, I had that baby cored from the first turn! What a feeling of joy and bliss that continued unabated for several turns. Then I started thinking and began wondering how my thermalling skills could have improved so miraculously in such a short period of time, I'd never nailed a thermal like that before. The key word was "nailed" and an altimeter reading of 2500' coupled with no vario changes when I sped up and pulled back (what self-respecting 2-33 would have a compensated vario?) told that there might a small chance that I had been overly optimistic. I headed off for the Blanik, 1-26 and B-4 thermalling a half mile off while attempting to repair the vario. This consisted of light tapping (which rapidly progressed to "heavy pounding") coupled with magical imprecations in several languages that would certainly never get FCC approval. All to no avail, the vario stubbornly insisted on telling me about the 5000'/min lift. I stole the thermal my fellow pilots had so generously marked for me and gained a good 2000' before I headed off for the next cloud.

At least I started to. Too much flying with higher performance ships had distorted my perception of glide slopes. I knew that the 2-33 wasn't really a lean-mean and sleek racing machine, but I had (conveniently) forgotten that getting from "A" to "B" in a 2-33 was quite a challenge - you point yourself at "B" and sedately settle on a path towards "C", which is directly below "B" but at ground level... I didn't make it to my cloud "B" but scuttled back for the secure thermal marked for me. By the time I got back to the original thermal location I was alone as my companions had departed for whiter clouds. I milked what thermal was left until I got to just below 6000' ([ahem] and the cloud base was, of course, about 6500') and then risked the lengthy journey to the distant (1 mile) next cloud. And to make things worse, I had Tony in his Pegase "frolicking" around me the whole time; sort of like a fly buzzing around a heap of . Had he actually pulled his spoilers to get to my speed/level I think his fate would have been sealed and the newspapers would have reported "last seen when packing away his new glider" [grin]. You could hear the joy in his voice on each transmission!

After an hour of flying around with only an altimeter as my (uncompensated) vario I once again tried violence upon the vario to no avail, but then reached underneath the panel and squeezed the tubing a couple of times and that finally unstoppered the recalcitrant instrument. Now I was ready to Rock & Roll! But by this time the clouds in the vicinity were all dissipating very slowly and the whole weather pattern had begun to cycle. Fortunately I was high enough at the time to survive the lull and managed to stay aloft until at 1500' the area once again started to produce lift. This large scale cycling occurred twice more during the flight.

I fought weak thermals to reach cloudbase again and decided to bravely head out for the wide open spaces (Fitchburg and ports beyond) but by that time the day was waning and only dissipating clouds were in sight. I did make it to Fitchburg, but with only enough altitude to limp back with the 10Knot tailwind to enter the pattern.

All in all a great day! I checked my logbook and my longest flight in a 2-33 flight heretofore had been only a bit over an hour (with Ritts in Franconia); now I've got a 3:30 2-33 flight to proudly put into my logbook! Although I don't think I'll enter the <10 mile XC to Fitchburg and back .

Ciao,

-Arnd.

Arnd Wussing - Back in Phoenix

After a brief stay in Boston I've returned home to Phoenix and my beloved "S4". This weekend and the following 3 day one I flew/will fly at what has been termed the "Southwest Soaring Championships" for lack of a better descriptor; at least 2 out of the 3 words apply. On Friday the sky seemed promising and I drove out to Estrella Gliderport, the venue for the first weekend. The monsoon season has moved in to the Southwest which means not only a high (and uncomfortable) humidity but CLOUDS. Normally flying in the desert is more of a poker game - you head out on course and hope that you hit a thermal in the completely blue skies. I took off at noon and immediately found a nice 3 knot thermal to get me out of the heat at ground level. The thermal petered off at 6000' msl (airfield elevation 1263') and I headed up and down the Estrella ridge until the clouds starting popping all over the place and I headed off on the course that I'd decided on. Within an hour the clouds had begun overdeveloping and man of the clouds starting spewing water. With the base going up to 10000' and about a fifth of the sky filled with flat-bottomed Cumulus it was a delight to fly. I covered about 300km with 5 turnpoints, dodging many raining clouds and even circling in 3knots of lift in heavy rain once, when a distant huge thunderstorm over Tuscon dumped so heavily that it triggered off an almost vertical wall of dust.

I rode the front top edge of this storm as if it were a ridge, cruising back and forth along the front at between 80 and 100 knots without losing any altitude.

My pleasure at this sensation was quickly dimmed when I realized that the wall was heading at high speed towards Estrella; and I realized that I couldn't make it to five hours without risking life and limb. I pointed the ship at distant Estrella and, in the smooth air ahead of the dust storm, brought the speed up to 153 knots (Vne). By this time my heart rate shot through the roof as at Vne I realized that I was barely making any headway from the wall! I dropped the gear, slowed down and pulled the spoilers to lose some altitude. My pattern was cut short, with just a 20 mile base and a short final. I had just enough time to stop in front of the tiedown and secure part of the glider when the winds hit. Visibility went down to that found in New England fog but the winds were so gusty and strong that I could barely finish securing the glider. Next time I won't cut it so close.

On Saturday the contest task was 141 miles (138 miles with the GPS start "beer can") and I was the only ship flying without full water ballast (only because my water bags are leaky and I haven't installed the new ones). The conditions were not very good, with much of the sky covered by high cirrus; and the top of lift was only about 4000' agl. We started off on task at 13:00 and I decided to start late and hopefully use the better lift later. This was a mistake, as the overdevelopment started at 14:00 with rainshowers visible everywhere and potential thunderstorms building up to impressive heights on the horizon. The final turnpoint was 20 miles away and from there only 30 miles separated me from home when I started hearing "Tango Sierra 1, four miles out" and the like from almost all of the other competitors. Not good; my computer told me that I was 300 feet below final glide to the turnpoint (Gila Bend Municipal Airport), but I did have the McReady set to 3 so I knew I could make it if I slowed down. I was flying about a quarter mile beside some heavy rain when the vario started making strange noise and the tone kept on going up almost into the supersonic. The Netto said 12/14 knots up! By the time I got centered the vario had settled on 10 Knots and the by the time I hit the top at 8000' the averager said 8 knots. This was enough to get me home! My speed was a respectable 55knots, but the winner had 66!

Yesterday the weather was different, there wasn't as much moisture in the air (it was all back on the ground) and the high cover didn't clear until after noon. The task was set much longer (I think closer to 200 miles) and I decided to hook up the trailer to the car and get everything set for a potential retrieve. This time I decided to head through the gate early; yet another mistake, as the conditions were not that good and I should have waited. On course I got lower and lower until I couldn't make it back and had to accept a 1/2 knotter to get out of "jail". That lost me a good 30 minutes and by the time I could start thinking about more than landing out the others had caught up and gotten past. By this time the base was up to 5000' agl and I made some very good time, cruising at over 100knots along a line of clouds. I was humming to myself and mentally racking up the points. My computer told me that I had -500 feet for a final glide at 4 McReady and only 26 miles to go, so I left the clouds and headed for the final turnpoint; which was in the middle of the flatlands and in a blue hole. There wasn't much sink and I slowed down a bit to get into the final glide. Turnpoint reached, 20 miles to go but now I had -800 on final glide. Blues skies and flat land between me and home, since I didn't think that I would find much thermal activity anymore this low, I dialed back to 0 and starting thinking of deities that would listen to my pleas for just one more thermal. None listened and vario pointed steadily down. Now there was a mountain blocking me from home (actually, the hillock wasn't more than 300' high) and I knew that I had no chance. The desert was inhospitable and I was only about 500' AGL. Another 2 miles ahead I saw a light area and knew it was either a ploughed field or something landable, at least more landable than my selected fallow cotton field. It did turn out to be a private strip and I did a short pattern (how short is something I think I ought not publicly admit to) and landed safely - 2.5 miles short of home! At least they gave me an aerotow home....

-Arnd

[End of the Soaring Report]