![[Wave Tow Left]](Wave_Tow_Left.jpg)
Congratulations are in order:
Dave Cherkus - first solo, nice job Dave. Dave also received his A badge.
Ted Boileau - A, B, & C badge
Joe Schena - A, B, & C badge
Dick Ruel (me) just received the written confirmation from the SSA that the
Silver Altitude and the Silver and Gold Duration legs were approved from the
flight taken on July 12th. Also completed the Bronze badge a few weeks ago.
Monday, early afternoon, I had a great wave flight in a B4. Shawn towed me
to 4,000 feet, up to smooth air near the Mittersill ridge. I was able to
maintain altitude, but that was all. I had the same experience earlier on a
flight with Josh. So, I tried to find the next wave which should have been
a couple of miles north of the ridge. Went through some wild rotor
turbulence, and found a weak wave. Then I noticed a cloud just off the end
of the Franconia runway. It was stationary, even though the wind was about
25 knots from the south. Right on the leading (south) edge, I entered
absolutely smooth air, and started climbing more than 1,000 fpm. Went from
2500 to 5000 in three minutes! Wow. Now I was firmly in the second wave,
and spent the rest of the flight moving up and down the ridge. Saw about 5
other gliders that had apparently found something similar.
Then, I noticed the time. My time was up, and Rick was waiting for his
shot. While helping Rick strap in, he offered the opinion that the
stationary cloud (still right where it had been earlier) must have been a
marker for the wave. Makes sense to me, especially given the ride I got.
A report from a fledglings point of view.......... Is he a Turkey or an Osprey it's still to early to tell.
Even though I am sitting at work with one meeting down and two to go, I'm still grinning from ear to ear.
Thanks to everyone who helped out this weekend, I enjoyed myself to no end. One of the best time I've had with my clothes on. The 3 rides I had increased my flight time by more than 50%, and I loved every minute of it. Congrats to Dave on his first Solo, It's great to see all the club members cheering for him.
Watching from the ground seeing 7 or 8 ships thermaling in one spot was great, but being in the middle of that gaggle was a completely different story, truly an amazing sight being in the front seat of the Blanik knowing you have one of the best pilots in the world giving you a great trill. Speaking of trills (the main reason I asked Dezi for a ride) what a ride, I can still replay the whole thing in my mind (minus the upset stomach), It's a good thing I didn't have any of the Chili before my flight.
Boy, life on the other side of the ridge seems great. You couldn't ask for any nicer people. The folks who bought the Kinsman Lodge are very nice and have a lot of plans to fix up the place. It will be a great place to stay when its finished.
I've have been telling others at work about this weekend. They all think I'm nuts for hanging out with the likes of you all, but they don't understand the FUN and CRAZINESS of it all.
I'm thinking about going up again next weekend if the ridge is working, see you there.
John
I had a great weekend, starting on Friday. Gave 6 rides, One friend, 2 daughters and 3 grandchildren. Two notable flights happened on Monday. Taking a grandson in the 2-33 and on tow at about 1500 agl hit violent turbulence, probably rotor. It put the roll capability to max. It exceed the pitch control. I had full spoilers, full forward stick and of course full forward trim. I could not stop from climbing and when I observed the tow plan far below me which appeared to be standing on end I released. landed without further incident. Later the tow pilot told me that he liked my decision and that he was having one hell of a time controlling the tow plane It was about the worst he has been in. What a learning opportunity that was.
The other notable flight, for me anyway, was my last flight on Monday. Towed by Jeff Orchard to 4000 agl. A lot of rough air and we wound around between the clouds to reach the wave that was working northeast of the mountain. Flying the Blanik with Alex , 6 years I think, Just cruised back and forth between the row of clouds. Altitude ranging between 4 and 6 thousand. Could have gone higher but was concerned about the gap closing in on me. Alex had a blast with Dezi type weightless maneuvers and a few wing overs. Then I saw Jeff circling about me trying to tell me to go down since he had seen some T storms in the area. Oh, Oh no radio, mine was on the ground in my trunk, great place for it, huh. I did not know what he was trying to tell me until I got on the ground. Anyway after about an hour the gap started to close in. Got nervous and went down to 4000 agl. Still plenty of lift. When I landed the ceiling was getting pretty low. That was my first wave flight. More fun than doing the dishes.
Ken
After arriving in Franconia on Friday 9/3/99, I took a flight in the 1-26. A 3K tow deposited me over the ridge on Cannon mountain, and I was able to find a little lift generated by the sunny side of the ridge and a little out into the bowl. After about 25 minutes or so of holding my own, the lift started to poop out, and the ridge started looking just a little too big, so I headed back for an uneventful landing. A nice way to start the weekend!
On Saturday, I signed up for a 2-33 in hopes of giving my wife or one of my two boys a ride (my first since getting my license!). However, it was so hot, and the wait so long, that the family decided that they would rather swim in the pool back at the motel. (Well, ok, my wife Clo was pretty nervous about going for a ride, not having ever been up in a glider.) About then, I was thinking it would be more fun to go up in the 1-26 instead of the 2-33 if I was going by myself, but Herb's lady friend Beverly volunteered to be my first passenger. So, when our turn came up, up we went, to 4K, just North of the field. We managed to find some spots of lift here and there for a 45 minute flight. Beverly seemed to enjoy the ride, and I enjoyed giving it.
Sunday I took a 3K tow in the 1-26 and thought I was all set when Shawn dropped me off in a thermal and I started going up! However, the darned thing was just a bubble, or I was just too unskilled, but I soon stopped going up. After struggling at about 1500 feet for a few minutes, I landed after a staggeringly long flight of about 15 minutes in duration.
Monday (Labor Day), I had another flight that lasted all of half an hour in the 1-26. I came down and resigned myself to the fact that I just wasn't going to have a real memorable flight this time at Franconia. Boo-Hoo!
Anyway, later that day, my wife and kids came back to the field and my wife mumbled something about maybe wanting to take a ride in a glider or something. Hmm, the skies had changed significantly and looked pretty "funny" to me. I spoke to some people, and they said that the clear strip running East / West was due to mountain wave (the wind was from the South). The area South of the mountains was evidently solid cloud cover. But, when the air was pushed up by the mountains, and came back down on the other side, the relatively dry air formed a clear swath. Just downwind of the clear swath was another area of solid cloud cover, which marked the up portion of that part of the wave. Some rapidly swirling clouds evidently marked a nice rotor just off the South end of the runway. A couple of gliders could be seen "surfing" the leading edge of the cloud. This was looking very interesting indeed.
So, after talking to Jeff and Nancy, who were kind enough to agree to watch our two boys, my wife Clo and I pulled out the 2-33 (25S) and got it ready. A semi-steady stream of members spoke to my wife in reassuring tones -- more than one of them saying that the tow might be a little bumpy. (Evidently one person was bounced so hard on a previous flight that they decided to release from tow at about 1500 feet -- something about the tow plane pointing straight at the ground, or some such.)
Off we went, behind the Franconia Club's Bird-dog. Hmmm. BUMPY? THAT'S AN UNDERSTATEMENT! I kept telling my wife that this was a little bumpier than usual, but everything was fine. Actually, it was only the third roughest tow I can remember. I did find myself wishing for just a little more travel on all the controls, though. I kept asking her if she was ok after about the second very hard slam. She actually laughed and said she thought it was kind of funny, and she didn't expect it to be anything like this!
I had told the tow pilot that I planned to tow to 5K, and while talking to my wife, maybe I wasn't paying as much attention to the altimeter as I should have been. I noticed that at several times, the vario was pegged in the up position. However, I kept glancing at the altimeter, and it wasn't up to 5K yet. Hmmm - I did notice at a couple of points that the vario wasn't up by much, so I didn't think much of it until the tow seemed to be getting pretty long, and the clouds WERE closer, and the vario WAS still going up. I called the tow pilot, saying something stupid like "are we going to be able to make it to 5K"? He called back, "you're already at 6K!" or something like that. Oh -- hmm, the altimeter still reads 4,700 ft. Not moving. Must be busted. So, I got off. Well, at least now I was solidly in the up part of the wave! (YES, the altimeter REALLY stuck!!!! Tapping the front, the back, and the sides got no results.)
Wow, really smooth and 200 up. Moving over nearer the cloud got me 300 or 400 ft per minute up. Amazing cloud formations and lots of different levels! It was like being "tubed" while surfing (not that I've ever surfed). Later, I found out that I was at least at 8,500 feet (the Blanik was below me at 8000, by their estimation at least 500 feet below). I think if I had tried harder I could have gotten quite a bit higher, but my wife was getting a little antsy. I kept telling her that you could usually see a lot more scenery. The clouds were just ominous. So, I traveled up and down the "tube" a few times.
I had never been that far East, past the highway before, but at that altitude, the airport was an easy glide. I kept a VERY close eye on the width of the "swath", though, being ready to dive down if it started to close up at all. A few times I edged out into the clear sky a little, and sure enough, the lift decreased, and went negative. We could have surfed back and forth for hours! But, after a little while, my wife said she'd like to go back. I had told her to let me know if she wanted to go down, so I had to keep my word (right?). It was with great regret that I pulled the spoilers on full.
It took a while to lose the altitude -- I kept the spoilers on and went out into the "valley" just South of the airport and made some wide spirals down to get under the lower clouds that were over the airport. The altimeter still read 4700 for most of the decent, but at some point, it started going down again. There was no way in Heck that I was going to trust it, though! Good thing we train for that sort of thing, huh? Actually, it appeared to be reading roughly correctly, but I was determined to come in with a little extra altitude. While on downwind, my wife said (I have it on the tape!) "are you sure you know how to land this thing?" I said "Well, I sure hope so!" I found out later that she was concerned that the altimeter wasn't working, even though I had told her it wasn't a problem and that we prepare for that sort of thing.
I kept it high in the pattern, and put on a good slip on final -- the landing went well. And the darned altimeter went right back to zero when we were on the ground! Of course, the guys that I told about the altimeter having stuck said "oh yeah, sure". It really stuck! REALLY!!! Total flight time around 48 minutes. All in all, a very interesting flight!
These pictures were taken by Clo Maxwell from the back seat of a 2-33 (N1225S) during her first ride in a glider (and the first time using the video camera!). They were taken on Labor Day (Monday, 9/6/99, 2:35pm), between roughly 3200 and 3600 ft over route 93 just north of Franconia Notch.
The wind was from the South, creating wave clearly marked by clouds and a clear strip. Unfortunately, while we were surfing the wave and being "tubed", my wife never pointed the camera at the wonderous cloud formations, and I never thought to take the camera and do it either. The best I could do were these snapshots while on tow, still some distance from the wave cloud.
|
Heading East, just over 3200 ft or so, not quite over route 93, with the front edge of the up part of the wave marked by the clouds on the upper left part of the picture. You can see a lower bank of clouds to the right of the clear "swath" at roughly 3200 ft. The curved front edge of the cloud on the left is over 6000 ft. |
![[Wave Tow Right]](Wave_Tow_Right.jpg) |
A little beyond and higher than the previous picture. This time, closer to the lower bank of clouds that appear on the right side of the previous picture. We were in the "down" part of the wave at this point, and weren't going up all that fast. |
![[Wave Tow Highway]](Wave_Tow_Highway.jpg) |
A little beyond and a little higher than the previous picture again - still heading East. Looking out the right side, toward the South, directly over Route 93. You can see Echo Lake in the upper curved part of the highway. You can see we're just above the lower cloud bank on the right of the two previous pictures. |
I normally wouldn't write, but I had such an excellent weekend at Franconia, and since Dick has asked for contributions from student pilots, I thought it was a good time to make a contribution to the weekly soaring report. Sorry if it is too long winded, but it covers four days of soaring filled with many memories.
I arrived in Franconia on Friday morning. I asked Dezi to take me up for a familiarization flight in the Blanik, and he graciously agreed. It was a fine flight, getting to fly the Blanik for a while (the controls are a lot smoother than the 2-33!) and learning more about the ridge. Unfortunately, there was no ridge or thermal lift, so we brought the ship back to the field after a bit.
I had a second flight later in the day with Tony, in a 2-33 out near the ridge. This was a fun flight. We did find a little bit of thermal activity and did some more exploring of the ridge. I flew the entire flight, and made the smoothest landing I have ever made. I even got four stars in my logbook!
On Saturday morning, I did another early flight with Tony, and it went just as well. By this point, a trend seemed to be forming. Somehow, I was no longer making the one or two mistakes per flight that was making my instructors feel that I wasn't ready to solo. In my mind, things were snapping into place. So, when Tony suggested I take the next flight by myself, I said 'okay!'.
I have a lot of memories burned into my grey matter from that point on. John Milley volunteering to be bypassed so I can fly again right away. Me telling him not to tell anyone that I was going to solo, but finding out as we walked the glider past the tent and saw the grins that everyone knew anyhow, then getting some last minute encouragement and some last minute harassment (good natured of course!) from one and all. Dave Batson and Dave Zlotek giving me some last minute advice. Putting the glider in the grid, then Rene asking "Where's Tony?" and me saying with a big smile, "He's not coming this time".
After a bit of a wait (just to make me think about it), finally we were rolling along the runway. I really wasn't nervous. I really was just concentrating on the matter at hand. The only point at which I stopped concentrating for a second was during the tow downwind, when I thought to myself "Gee, isn't it a bit too late to tell them that I don't want to do this yet?!?". But that thought only lasted a second or so and it was back to flying the plane. By prior arrangement, I got off the tow over the valley between Kinsman and Sugar Hill. I even found some mild lift (this area produced the day's 'house thermal', with as many as 7 gliders in a thermal in that same area later in the day) but before I knew it, it was time to head in.
I remember being quite comfortable with my pattern entry and the crosswind and downwind legs, but after turning base I realized I turned a bit early and was going to be high. I went to full spoilers and turned towards the field. On final, I decided a slip was called for, despite the imposing presence of the sturdy wooden fence. Some onlookers seemed to wonder if I'd hold the slip too long, but I didn't, and cleared the fence and staging area with good amounts of altitude. Wow! It was quite a rush.
After rolling out, I was greeted by Dave Batson. I was so excited that I jumped out of the glider. He mentioned that when one is alone in this class of ship, one needs to get out of the glider slowly and let the tail down gradually instead of letting it bang to the ground. Of course I said, "But this is the first time I've ever gotten out of this glider alone!". I guess we all get an allowance for the first time, but from now on, I'm going to lower the tail to the ground.
After this, a wonderful, joyous throng of people came out to greet me, led by Dezi with his scissors. It was clear that my shirt wasn't going to make it through this day. After the shirt surgery, many congratulations were given and handshakes exchanged. Dezi ran out to the store to pick up colored markers for folks to sign the shirt tail, and lead the effort to get it signed. Thanks to him and all the people that signed, I have a really wonderful reminder of this wonderful event.
And at this point it's a great time to thank all the folks in the club that have helped make this possible: the instructors, tow pilots, SFOs, FOs, and other ground crew volunteers, and the club officers. Thanks one and all! And to Rene for coordinating the Franconia trip, and to Peter for coordinating the aerotows up to Franconia. Also, quite fortunately, Bill Maxwell had his video camera along and was able to capture the takeoff and landing. Boy was it wierd to watch the film and realize it was me that was flying! Thanks, Bill!
So, after the great club dinner we had on Saturday night, I went out Sunday and flew twice more to prove to myself that indeed I had soloed. Since I am getting somewhat long winded and have more to tell later, I'll spare everyone the details, other than saying the flights were really fun with a little bit of thermalling.
Monday was more of an adventure. To start off, again to prove to myself that it all wasn't all just a dream, I decided to fly again. It was a clear day at this point yet it was more turbulent than the previous three days, so the tow was more adventurous. Unlike the previous days which were calm, there was a gusting wind from the south. Again I found some thermal activity in the valley near Sugar Hill. For the first time, I was soloing in a thermal with another glider, the other 2-33 being flown by Dave Batson and Josh K. After going up a few hundred feet, I fell out of the thermal and didn't find it again, so I followed Dave and Josh in. I tended to err on the side of leaving extra room between myself and them, and turned base a bit later than planned, and realized I was a bit lower than I'd like to be. I made darn sure to keep the nose low and the airspeed up to punch through the 700-800 fpm sink on final. I felt that I had the field made, but not by a lot, and so it was. Even though I've landed under similar conditions before, somehow the lesson sinks in even better when you truly realize that it was totally your own decision making that lead to the outcome.
After that point, conditions were no longer clear and it got more turbulent, and I was advised that I should not fly any more that day, which was a decision I agreed with. At this point, the crowd thinned out due to the conditions and the desire to beat the Labor Day traffic home. I was helping to fetch various gliders on the ground, and kept seeing pilots returning from flights with big smiles and talking about the great wave conditions they were finding. After hearing Dave Batson talk about the best glider flight he ever had, I decided I really wanted to get up into the wave! Luckily, Dezi had returned from an earlier flight, so I asked him if we could go fly the wave. He agreed, and so we went off in the humble yet rugged 2-33.
The tow was turbulent in spots. After a while, I was flying the tow, and we hit a jolt of turbulence that both feet came off the rudder petals and my legs hit the panel. Luckily recovery was straight forward and I heard Dezi say "Nice!". That was worth a million to me.
Shawn Brown did an excellent job of avoiding the worst of the turbulence and towed us right into the window at 5k. The cap cloud was sitting on top of the Cannon ski area to the south, and there was a nice cloud bank to the north marking the far side of the window. We flew parallel to and in front of this cloud, in smooth air consistently showing 200 to 400 fpm up. The area of lift streached from Cannon across the Franconia Notch to the foothills beneath Mt. Lafayette.
We climed from 5k to 6.3k as we experimented with finding the edges of the lift and the width of the window. It was a wonderful learning experience for me! When I was flying it was a fun challenge to fly the ship as close to the stall point as I could to take maximum advantage of the lift. It was humbling to see how automatic it was for Dezi, but I began to get the hang of it.
The view was spectacular. We could see all kinds of interesting cloud formations against the bright blue sky. There were tall spires rising from the horizontal top of the cloud bank. There were wispy horizontal cloud bands off in the distance. And looking down one could see the Cannon ski area, Echo Lake, and the foothills of Lafayette, all framed by the window in the clouds.
We could also see Bill Maxwell flying the other 2-33 with his wife as passenger for the first time, ahead of us along side the cloud bank. What a first ride she got! Also, later we saw the Blanik with Ken Woodard. It was fun to be up there with other people. I don't recall seeing Rick Roelke, but we later heard he was above us at 9.9k in the B-4!
At one point we had lost altitude and were thinking about landing, but Dezi headed towards an especially smooth part of the cloud bank curving away from us like a snow bank, and the closer we came, the more we rose. We headed right towards it, and continued to rise right above it, back above 6k. It felt like we were climbing a snow-covered mountain! At the top, there was nothing but blue sky and the golden sun. What a view!
A while later, the clouds shifted and got between us and the sun, and it began to get cold, even more so for Dezi in the drafty back seat of the 2-33, and since we'd been up for over an hour, so we decided to head down. And, totally consistent for this day, we had a hard time getting down! We had to look for sink! At one point, we were doing 70 mph, with full air brakes deployed, and we were rising at 700 fpm! I remember saying "Dammit - We're in lift!". How often will this happen to you?
After Dezi did the landing where he made sure to keep lots of altitude because the ride was bumpy and sink was strong on final, we tied down the ship, and joined the friendly crowd at Jeff and Nancy's trailer. I was one happy camper. Think of it: having a weekend where you solo then you fly in wave! How can you beat that?
I've been in Phoenix a week and did a lot of cross country flying. The last 3 days were contest days and I flew a 300km, a 400km and yesterday a 500km flight! I'll send you a write-up asap (I'm at the airport and have to catch my flight in a couple of minutes).
-Arnd
Very warm and humid with a slight Southeast wind. One of the first to try the weak looking condirions I took a 3000 foot tow at 1:30. Managed to struggle for almost an hour getting to 4000 feet MSL over the ridge Northwest of the field. Around 4:00 sone Cu started to pop. Launched again with a 2000 foot tow at 4:30 finding good lift.
From Mt. Ascutney I crossed the river and climbed to cloudbase at 6000 feet over Claremont. There were no clouds East of there and I found very still air as I glided to Newport (Parlin). Thinking I better get back to the lift I spotted Jim Emken and Doug Haluza in their Janus as I turned and we flew back to Claremont in formation. At 48 knots I was at best L/D while they were below minimum sink speed. After 6 or 7 miles of this the Janus duo tired of poking along and dissapeard ahead. A strange day with good lift starting at 4:30 but only in a small area. From Claremont I returned to Springfield and then went around two more close in turnpoints at the Microwave tower 10 miles North and then the bridge across the Connecticut just East of Mt. Ascutney then landed.
The day began completely overcast. By noon the clouds were sort of converging into individual Cu. I launched at 1:30 and found good lift to cloudbase at just over 5000 feet. I decided on a short task to Woodstock and back. After a start I was able to fly just East of course along a cloud street. Lots of straight ahead cruising with a following Southeast wind. Turning Woodstock I found going upwind was almost as easy. Just past Mt. Ascutney I left the street and headed to Springfield to finish the task. Heavy sink and a close encounter with a float equipped Cessna which suddenly came out of the horizinon 90 degrees to my course punctuated the final glide. After finishing I had no trouble climbing out again from 2500 feet MSL. The flight log later revealed 48 mph for the 40 mile out and return which is by far my fastest speed for any task. After getting to cloudbase again which was still less than 5500 feet I crossed the river into New Hampshire. The river valley is often a sink hole but I wasn't too concerned when I lost 1500 feet in just 3 or 4 miles because the going had been so easy up to that point and I was sure to connect over the high ground on the East side. I got over that high ground without much margin and made one of those frustrating searches where I just couldn't hook up and found only the sink on the edges of thermals that I knew were there. I was about to glide back into the valley and an almost certain landing in one of the great big fields there when I spotted a nice golden (recently cut) hay field and tried one last search around it. Still nothing. My altimiter said 1750 feet after I had come to a stop in that field. Turned out to be alfalfa which had been cut 4 days earlier. The view was tremendous from that high platuea as I waited for my wife to come get me.
Mark Koepper PW-5 3K
The first day, it was hot and stable. I got my check ride with no wind at all. It was fun to be back on a ridge though, even for a sled ride. I then took up the B-4 and had a very strange flight. I found nothing near the ridge so I came back toward the airport. On the way out we had hit a pretty good bump over a field to the east of the airport. When I got to the field I found a weak thermal. I circled for 20 minutes between 2300 and 2400 ft. I would tap the altimeter, just to be sure it was working, but it would only change a few feet. I thought I'd get dizzy just sitting there without making any progress. Even though my flight was only 45 minutes, it may have been the longest of the day. The forecast wasn't much better for the remaining 3 days, so all I could do was hope for the best.
Saturday, I saw an unusual sight, a cumulus cloud, the first I had seen in a week. As the day developed the upper level clouds looked as if the wind had turned into the SE. I didn't seem as if it had though, and I took a tow to 4000, right next to Lafayette. Not sure if the ridge was working or not, I flew toward the peak and as I approached I entered lift, the closer I got the stronger it got. Now I was sure the ridge must have been working. I got to the ridgeline and turned along it, and found myself drifting back over the front. The true wind was over the back. I must have flown through some thermal lift that had come up with the rotor. The wind was very light from the backside and I tried to soar on the back, but it was not strong enough. Over the front side, I was able to work the thermal for a while and flew over quite a crowd of hikers on the top or on the trail. I flew gently by them, resisting the temptation to let them count rivets on the bottom of the fuselage. The thermal petered out and I headed back to the valley, picked up another good one where I had spent so much time the day before, and this time made it to the 6000 ft cloud base. If my time had not been up, I would have headed back to Lafayette. Ho hum...
Wind was officially over the back of the ridge, it seemed kind of SW to S. A cap of clouds was pouring over the mountains, only to evaporate a little below the peaks. I tried to will wave conditions into existence but the air was too unstable. The cap cloud lifted and although there were signs of wave at high altitudes there was no sign of a possible entry. I took a tow to the ridge, just because, where else are you going to go? Nothing was happening at the ridge so I came back to the airport. Scratched for about an hour when the local thermal gave out. I was last in line for the pattern with a little bit of a back up. Found a thermal near the tip and delayed in it. I might have been able to get back up in, but it was time to go home, so after the runway was clear I headed in.
I had signed up for the B-4 for late in the day, hoping for a wave to appear in the early evening. As my slot approached I was wondering if the backside of Kinsman might be working. I was not familiar with the shape of the ridge so I conferred with Ritts and Gerry Bell. The ridge on the side of Kinsman runs N-S rather than facing SW as I had hopped. But it still seemed worth a try. I took off a little after 4:00 and headed for the top of the mountain. I spent the next 2 hours in a variety of different forms of lift. Some was convective from the remaining sun and the previously heated exposed rock ledges. Some was smooth and likely wavelets. Some was very turbulent and likely rotor. But it seemed that the last of it remained as convective from the rocks. My high point was ~4600. High enough to fully understand the shape of the ridge and explore the places where the lift really wasn't. As I was approaching the south-facing bowl in 8 kts sink, I even got a good look at the least landable area I've yet seen. Not a place you would want to be below the ridgeline. Peeling away from the stunning but intimidating sight, it appeared that the wind was out of the SE. Perhaps we were in rotor after all. After the last rock outcropping had lost much of it's heat, I moseyed my way back to the field and landed in nice gentle conditions a little after 6:00. I taxied right up to the tiedown where good friends and cold beer were waiting.
Part One. Surfs up! Yesterday and today the mountains had a cap of clouds that was pouring down toward the valley and evaporating about 1/4 of the way down. The sky in the morning had the same high altitude wave indications of the day before, but no sign that it was happening down low. Otherwise the sky was clear with no Cu or other low altitude clouds. Gerry Bell had taken an early morning sight seeing flight but did not find any wave. Still hopeful, I searched the sky for signs of wave. We saw a few Cu's to the north, but then I saw a strangely dark and relatively low cloud. Close inspection revealed that it might be rotating. All I needed to see, so I grabbed a B-4 and headed for the line. I was trying to figure out where to insert myself in what I was hoping was wave. Having no real idea, I figured I would go from 5k and hope to find out where it was. Dezi asked what I was going to do and he agreed that a tow to 5000 was the best idea. When I got to the line, I found out that another glider had just found the wave and the tow pilot knew just what do. I was very excited about the possibility. Wave is one of the forms of lift that really is not available to a hang glider pilot.
So I was ready, the tow plane knew where to go -- what could be better? The take-off went well, but man, what a rough tow. I had expected it to be rough, but this was the roughest I had flown in. Whenever I felt I could free up a hand (definitely a two handed tow) I would scrunch down in my seat and tighten the shoulder belts. I'm not too far from the canopy to begin with, and I didn't want to install a sunroof on the way up. At about 3200 things started to get smooth, at 4000 the tow plane and I were climbing at 1000 fpm in smooth lift. Figuring I had it made, I got off. Things changed quickly. I was in sink. I turned around to where I just had it and nothing, followed by worse than nothing. Sinking like a stone I headed toward the gap where the wave cloud looked better. Then came the turbulence. I might be able to make a part of a turn in strong lift, but over all I was losing. I saw our 1-26 thermaling near Mitersil (sp) and although I knew I'd be lower than he was when I got there, I headed that way. Again, a little gain but then big sink.
I was kicking myself for getting off early. This was going to be my chance at wave and I blew it. I was now low enough that I needed to be heading back to the airport. Determined to save this flight I flew toward a cloud on the way back, penetrating 600 down on the way when bang 800 up. Figuring this was going to be tight, I racked it up and was able to stay in the lift this time. Even in a 2 g turn I was banged negative while in the turn. But I hung on and was able to redeem myself and gained back to 3000. Now I headed out along the face of the rotor cloud. Still bumpy lift but strong, strong in spots, with equally strong sink. I met up with Dezi, flying Shawn's 1-34 and we flew along the rotor cloud. One minute I would be 500 ft higher, and then Dezi would be the high man. You would follow along and the lead man would start to sink. By the time he had turned out of the sink, he would be below you.
As we got above the cloud, we could head for the strongest lift simply by watching the cloud visibly develop. Actually, the whole day it was like watching a time-lapse movie. Continually watching the evaporation at the mountains and explosive development in the rotor cloud. As we gained altitude the lift (and sink) smoothed out, and we climbed to about 6000 ft. I called to ground to see if anyone wanted the glider (as if I would be that lucky) and got no answer. Jeff Orchard called a little later to say that he had asked before he started his tow, and no one spoke up. Just as I was beginning to think I might get away with some more time. I got called down. As much fun as I was having, I really didn't mind giving it up, as I truly wanted other people to enjoy this fantastic day.
Part two. Monday was actually a relatively slow day. I can only imagine that people made the mistake of listening to the weatherman. Before too long a B-4 became available, and this time it was likely that no one would want it after me. Off I went, a little more prepared for what was to come. The tow was rougher than before, but by now the wave was even better defined. When I got off, I knew where to go and quickly climbed to 6000. Now in very smooth wave lift, I wanted to see how high I could get.
The view was magnificent with clouds of all shapes layered above me and below. The underside of smooth lennys would slope down to more vertical faces of cloud further away from the ridge. With these overhanging layers stacked on top of one another, I wasn't sure how I was going to get up past the one I was under. It seemed like, if I went out in front of a layer the lift would fade to zero. But as I would traverse east or west, I was able to find areas of clouds at different heights, and I would end up over the one I had been working under before.
Many things that I had dreamed about doing, I was now doing. Flying over a
lenny as if it was a ridge with smooth cloud passing under my right wing and
slowly climbing. Zooming under the leading edge of one at 80 kts and not
losing. The airport was visible through the foehn gap. Lit up in the
sunlight, against the dark surrounding terrain, it was as if God was showing
the way home.
![[foehn gap]](foehn_gap.jpg)
The mountains to the south were covered in a low pure white
cloud cover, only revealing the actual terrain at the face of the ridge.
Above the cloud-covered mountains was a brilliant deep blue sky, with only
an occasional high wave cloud for contrast.
The lift above 6000 was very slow, mostly around 100 fpm, but with time I was getting to 9000. My goal was to get to 12500 and it seemed very possible. The amount of moisture in the air was slowly increasing all day, and I was worried about the gap closing. As I got farther away from the airport it became more difficult to navigate, as I could only see a strip of ground between the mountains and the clouds. The best looking lennys were toward mount Washington so I was quite a bit to the east from the field.
As I turned to the west again, from my vantage point I could see a developing thunderhead. It was casting it's shadow over the valley past Kinsman, and the airport was now in shadow. It looked quite ominous. Although it would have been an easy glide back to the airport from this height, it might have been tough under the cloud cover if I had to dive for the gap. Discretion being the better part and all that, I decided to give up my quest for 12,500 and settle for 9200. It had not occurred to me at all, while I was in the air, that I was actually at 10,200 MSL and if I had made it to 12,500 I would have been too high to not have O2.
Blasting home under a lenny I kept it at 80 kts just in case there was some unexpected turbulence. But it remained smooth. Now I was searching out the sink, and you know, you can only find sink reliably when you are looking for lift. When I was back to the notch and easily had the field I pulled the spoilers and down I went. Leaving my nice smooth environment, the turbulence was bad. If I hadn't known (or at least hoped) that it would smooth out near the ground, I would have been nervous about the landing. But as I had hoped, it wasn't bad after my turn onto final. All in all, an incredible experience.
As I was driving home (in the rain that had been forecast), dreamily recounting the flight I had just had, I stopped for gas at exit 20. I filled my tank, and then asked for the key to drain my personal water ballast. I had noticed a motorcycle parked outside the gas station, but hadn't thought much about it. As I stepped outside the rest room, a very attractive woman was changing out of her bathing suit in the parking lot. Apparently the driver of the motorcycle, she made a small reflex move to cover herself but then, realizing it was a little late for that, just chuckled. I was a little tongue-tied, but finally said, "I've had a very nice day" and headed for the car. As these memories compete, I'm reminded of the age old question, "Is Soaring better...?"
Rick Roelke
End of the Soaring Report