Soaring Report for October 16, 2000

Check Rides

This had to be one of the best weekends of the year. There were many check rides. I am still trying to recover from the number of flights I had. I think some of the students were just trying to get back at me. Some I signed off just after one half a flight just so I wouldn't have to fly with them again. I had coffee with Karel P. on Sunday and went to the field. Karel still can not fly due to his knee, but it was good to have him back. Dave C. and I had a flight to 3K and, when we broke tow, we saw Peter in the Bird Dog having a fight with a flock of Party Ballons. He claims to have shot half of them down. We might have to paint 4 or 5 ballons on the side of the Bird Dog. It was quite a sight. I can imagine how the ballons felt, having to dance with the Dog.

See you all next week,
Tom

Ted's Revenge

Another typical, warm, sunny day in October. Many people coming out for intro rides to see the beautiful colors. Too bad there was almost no lift. Tom, through much coercion, agreed to ride in the front seat of the 2-33 so I might see what it is like to have the instructor's view. I showed great restraint in only hitting HIM once on the back of his head. Pay back feels great! He said he was never on the controls but I have never felt them as heavy as they were on that flight. All who have flown with Tom know what I mean.

I signed up for the 1-26 behind Herb. Herb's turn at the ship came up and he was unable to locate the ballast so he gave the ship to me. Ah, the only time it is good to be pre-ballasted! I launched and released at 3k in some 0 sink and looked to the south and waaaaayyyy up to see a Blanik. I said to myself "How did he get up there?" I decided to try and get there also. I found a lot of stuff at 200 to 400 up but none was terribly organized, but before long I was going through 4,500. I pressed on and shortly I was going through 5,000. At that point I was so grateful to Herb for letting me go before him, I got on the radio and said "Thank you Herb Weiss" Perhaps some of you heard that. Now, I had been up for 40 minutes and up to 5400 on a day that I should have been down in twenty minutes and I am feeling a little guilty. But, I ignore those feelings and continue my wonderful flight. I will remember Herb at Christmas.

- Ted Boileau

Surf's Up

With aspirations of diamonds in the sky, I headed up to Sugarbush on what promised to be a very nice wave day. We had received a favorable forecast from the Naval Research Laboratory's Mountain Wave Forecast model. I say we, but mean Charlie Ryan, who was serving as my personal forecasting service. Charlie had introduced me to the site, and it had worked well for him this season, including a flight to nearly 24,000 ft on Wednesday for his diamond. Friday was looking not quite as strong, but the direction was more favorable. I arrived at about 6:30 Thursday evening in time to park the trailer in the last of the failing light. Checking in to the Sugar Lodge, I met Dick Dupont, a fellow 304CZ owner who had just completed his first flight in his new (to him) bird. We headed off for a very pleasant dinner where we exchanged lies, old and new, about our flying experiences. Dick was new to large plastic sailplanes and was looking for some help in assembly. We arranged to get to the field early to put both our ships together and be one / two on the line.

I was apprehensive about the next day, as I was unfamiliar with the conditions I would face at Sugarbush on a strong wave day. Sugarbush is natural wave site; the north south range that includes the ski area rises approximately 3000 ft above the surrounding terrain. The runway is nearly north south, so when the wave is working, the runway is crosswind. Coupled with a rotor of unknown strength and height, I didn't sleep as well as I would have liked. Oh yea, there was also the fact that it was Friday the 13th...

The day dawned with light surface winds but more importantly, diaphanous high lenticulars marking the primary. This was going to be a good day. After a splash of coffee, Dick and I headed to the field. The night before we had discussed whether I should use my long tips or rig as 15m. I had decided if it didn't look too cross, or gusty, I would go for the long tips. It was still nearly calm when we started rigging, so it was big wings today. We got both gliders put together, and then Dick headed off to put the finishing touches on his, while I checked out the newly installed Oxygen system in mine. Satisfied that all was in order, we commandeered a ground tow vehicle and brought 1M to the grid. Dick came down shortly after, with sad news. The wave window would not be open until after 15:00 this afternoon. I was first on the grid because I felt the forecast indicated that the wave would weaken as the day progressed. There would be no diamond today. But that was not a big problem, I was really looking forward to an (hopefully gentle) introduction to wave at Sugarbush and it looked like that was still in the offing.

Being new at Sugarbush I had not put my glider in the correct spot to be first in line so I found another glider had staged in front of me. After a round of "after you", "no you", "no I insist" I finally had to resort to "I won't be ready for another 15 minutes" in order to be able to watch the first tow of the day from the comfort of terra firma. His tow looked smooth, so I pushed up to where I was supposed to be and climbed in. Charlie was doing the tow, but the radio was not working in the Pawnee. He could receive but not transmit. With shoulder straps cinched down, we took off. Hunched down waiting for the smack of the rotor, we didn't get any such turbulence. There was a bump here or there, but no worse that a good thermaling day. Rather than turn toward the big mountains Charlie took a left toward the lower ridge to the east. I assumed he was looking for ridge lift to boost our climb, and indeed we found smooth lift there. After a bit of a pass down the ridge we turned toward the ski area. But then we turned south again and again we were making a pass above the East Ridge. Now I get the picture, he intends to drop me over the ridge in the secondary. I called him and said "I'm just following you, if you think this is the wave, wag your wings". To which he promptly shook me off. I released into 2 kts of smooth lift. I was on my way.

I explored the secondary and found 2 - 4 kts above the ridge. I located the best "hot spot" and set a GPS waypoint and tried to maximize my climb. Wave is wonderful lift, smooth and quiet. The zone generated on a ridge system as large as this (compared to my lone peak experience near Sterling) big and spacious. But this lift was not very strong, so it pays to find the max and stick to it. There was now a much more substantial Lenny marking the primary, and as I climbed I could now estimate its base at ~10,000 ft. Going through 9000 ft I decided I should try to get my oxygen "stuff" together. That stuff consisted of a nasal canella, which would use much less flow then my mask, but could only be used below 18k. I had debated with myself the night before whether I should try to use it, as I wasn't excited about switching over with hoses and masks etc. at 18,000 ft hoping all would go well. But now that I knew I wasn't going above 18k I thought I might as well save some gas.

My first symptom of excessive altitude is an elevated heart rate. I was very interested if the Ox would alleviate those symptoms that I was now noticing. And indeed it worked great. It did seem I needed to set the flow a few thousand ft above my current altitude to completely eliminate the feeling, but I would guess it's like anything else, if you're big, you use more O2. As I reached 11,000 I thought it would be safe to translate to the primary. Pushing the nose over, slowly at first I headed for the Lenny a thousand feet below, and 3 miles ahead. Along the way I penetrated sink that reached 10kts down, but as I reached the leading edge of the Lenny I was in 6kts lift. We are having fun now...

10,000 ft had marked the top of a haze inversion and now I was in crystal clear air. There were no clouds above me except some very high wispy cirrus, and an occasional jet contrail. Below were Lennys of various shapes and textures. Some were smooth and flat, some were "bumpier" than I would have expected, but still fairly flat. Some were markedly steeper, and apparently part of a system with much shorter wavelength. The haze and the Lennys seemed to make a "floor" under me. I climbed over Sugarbush until I reached 16,000. This was the highest altitude I had achieved without contemplating whether I wanted to watch the movie. The personal bests I had passed along the way in this climb included 13,500 ft, the highest I had flown a sailplane, and 15,500 the highest I had reached in a hang glider.

I had learned from Charlie that the highest altitude he achieved on Wednesday was climbing over Mt Mansfield, about 25 miles to the north. I could see a well-defined Lenny there, so I decided to make the trip. It cost me about 3000 ft to get there, but the lift was good and I was working back up. But to my surprise it didn't seem quite as good as it had been at Sugarbush. Talking with Charlie after, we felt that Mansfield favored a NWwind more than a west, so perhaps that explained why it was better for him.

The vista from Mansfield was well worth the trip though. Looking down on Mansfield you could see the rugged pine topped mountain contrasting with the full-blown fall foliage in the valley beyond. From slightly behind the Lenny a beautiful mother of pearl iridescence would appear in the cloud tops. Another glider was flying along the leading edge of the Lenny below me for added interest. As I regained my altitude, at 15k I decided that I would return to the stronger wave at Sugarbush, and turned south.
With a slight tail wind component (winds 285 at 33 kts) I made the trip with 90 kts ground speed and only lost 500ft in 25 miles. Once back in the primary at Sugarbush, I decided I should try to kiss Class A airspace and return to earth. I tried to get to 18k but the wave had lost a bit of strength. At 17,300 ft. a high overcast moved in and the system seemed to change. The wave was still working as evidenced by the Lennys, but the overall character had changed some. More importantly to my quest at the time, the lift stopped at 17,000 so my day was done.

I had wondered just how fast I could come down if I wanted to, so I moved back to the sink side of the wave (the sink was not that strong near the top of the wave) and put the gear down, pulled the dive brakes and pointed the nose down. Wary of impacting the rotor, I kept the airspeed down to 80. I was showing 24kts down on the averager. Not as fast as I would want in the case of an oxygen failure, so perhaps a bailout bottle would be a prudent investment if exploring into Class A. But the altimeter did wind down like a clock in a movie. I contacted the rotor at about 6000 ft, but once again it proved to be quite mild. I would show alternately 8 kts up to 10 kts down, but no big g forces and no negative gs at all. The rotor I had experienced a year before in Franconia was much worse. The rotor turbulence further diminished as I got close to landing. Sugarbush does have a turbulent approach from the north. It consists of a gap in the trees and once below tree level it gets sporting in a cross wind. But the landing was greasy and smooth once out of the immediate influence of the trees. Rolling off the runway completed a beautiful flight.

So while no diamonds for the day, a great flight, a new personal altitude best, and a great introduction to the Sugarbush wave system. I'll be back...

- Rick Roelke