Well, it was windy. Dezi said he had to walk bent over into the wind, but I think he's getting a bit old and he always walks like that. Anyway, after sitting in the office and yakking for a really long time, the wind abated and Gerry and Ryan helped me put the Duo together. Nobody else wanted to fly it seems. I towed to 4K to the area just downwind of Wachusett, but no wave. Fell down to 2K and eventually got a 5kt+ thermal. Unfortunately it was really rough, and I made my poor passenger sick. He's flown 5hr+ contest flights with me in the whale, but it really was a bit rough today... Pulled the brakes and dove to the pattern, landed, and the place was deserted! Woulda taken someone else up, as contrary to forecast the wind continued to abate, lift was getting stronger with beautiful streeted cu's...So where was everyone ?
Off to fetch my new toy next weekend, perhaps I'll bring it out to Sterling later in the month.
Dave Nadler
[There was only one flight this weekend in the duo by Dave Nadler and a queasy passenger. This (somewhat related) story is from a fellow 304 owner and friend of mine, who also owns a Duo. (Life is tough.) It is such a great story I thought everyone might want to hear it. Remember, it's not "our" duo. -RR]
We put Sugarbush to sleep for the winter last weekend, just before the arctic blast that settled in this recent weekend (which froze Sal's fingers packing the Cobra for tomorrow's trip to Delaware). But what a great last visit it was! One sweater weather and a hundred miles visibility.
Then, back home in Delaware, a quick phone call to Tom Knauff confirmed my suspicions. A couple of promising ridge days lay ahead. I drove the three hours from home to the Ridge Soaring Gliderport Saturday evening. What weather! The leaves are past peak there as well. (After all, central Pennsylvania is in the mountains too.) But the abundant valleys still had color, and their grasses and alfalfa fields were still a lush green. Corn's being picked now and cold weather is fast approaching.
It's a lovely drive from my home to Tom and Doris's, taking me first through the Amish country, then around Lancaster and past Harrisburg, across the Susquehanna and into the mountains, through Ridge after ridge, then finally past Mifflintown (the site of next year's Nationals) past the"peninsula" of Mount Nittany (standing guard over Penn State like the bow of the SS United States pulled into her berth at New York harbor) then over the Bald Eagle Ridge and a right turn up the Bald Eagle Valley to the Gliderport. I arrived Saturday, just after dark, had a bowl of soup at the Eagle's Nest restaurant and then to bed in my little trailer stationed at the Gliderport.
Sunday dawned with a resetting of our clocks and an extra hour of "trailer pacing," waiting for things to come alive at the Gliderport. I wasn't alone, though. I went over to the bunk house with an electric RC sailplane and rousted Bill Geiger, my lawyer friend from Pittsburgh (who just passed his Private) and Bob the affable Discus II guy and Tracy the really keen Canadian lady airline pilot. Bill made his first RC launch a success and I managed to fly the thing well enough to demonstrate the enchantment available from such pursuits, and I executed two landings, if you can call the first one that. The second one was pretty good though.
By the time we returned from breakfast at the Eagle's Nest, Tom was already towing the Duo down the runway with his excessively used, doorless,mufflerless, reverseless, valueless (to anyone else) tow car. She was straining under the load. The Duo was brimming with ballast and oozing water from every pore at every bump. I walked over to intercept them halfway, but there was no need. That picture said it all. Tom just looked up with a reassuring smile and said, "Get your chute and hit the bathroom. It looks like a good one. We did 400K yesterday."
I did as instructed. Next we helped others with assembly and launching. We helped Bill with his wings. Tom reviewed Tracy's ambitious plan for the day (two flights in all), commenting on a thing or two to watch out for with his customary suggestion or two to go with. We helped another lady United pilot get airborne and rendezvous with Karl Striedieck, who was escorting her with one other fellow on her 500K distance attempt. They were planning to follow the same route we were, essentially, the other way 'round the horn. By 10:00AM the wind was picking up as forecast and the Bald Eagle Ridge was coming to life. We closed the canopy and I waggled the rudder at10:15AM.
Tom had briefed me on ballasted flight and he gave me one correction for elevator position in the early part of the takeoff roll. The Pawnee got airborne well before we did and patiently flew along a foot or two above the ground until I finally eased the Duo upward and onwards considerably further on. It was just like a high altitude, hot weather takeoff at max gross weight in an old Constellation. You wait and wait for things to get going, then pray to the Gods for deliverance from even the slightest sneeze from those "dependable" 3350's, or in this case from a straining tow line and a challenged Pawnee and tow pilot. A bit of cross wind and rotor added spice to the stew. But once we got underway the weight was most welcome. We were soon climbing together up the ridge lift, releasing a few hundred feet over the ridge in good moderate orographic lift.
Tom requested a few short passes back and forth along the ridge while he made the all important confirmation of wind direction and velocity. He also asked for a couple of 360's to give the SN-10 a chance to see the whole picture. The minute we did, it did. Up came the reading, 314 Degrees at 16kts, and with it, that comforting fat black arrow head in the upper right hand corner of the display, pointing almost exactly 90 degrees to our course line. And there it stayed, posting guard over our voyage. Also encouraging was the SN-10's "confidence factor" which read 85%, as I recall. The only thing that changed appreciably was the velocity of the wind which was running close to 30Kts. at ridge-top by the end of our trip. We flew for 3 hours and forty-five minutes, returning to the field at 2:00PM. We had covered just about 300 miles by Tom's reckoning. What a sensational trip! And what a sensational first cross country experience for me.
Of particular interest were Tom's various "solutions" to occasional challenges posed by the dreaded Gaps and sometimes difficult transitions from ridge to ridge. These spots must be negotiated in order to complete a particular circuit or task. They were particularly difficult that day. Although the ridge lift was excellent throughout (and that means a lot), the customary thermals you wanted to find to add a needed 500Ft. were heavily suppressed by a wave we could not utilize.
It seemed you couldn't find or buy a thermal at any price, no matter where you looked. You'd come to one of those spots and course here and there, out and back, over particularly juicy little bowls and such, foraging in earnest, only to be handed the most meager of prospects from the occasional useless impostor of a swirl. And there you might risk a 360 close to the ridge summit, winning a staunch 50Ft. into the wind and losing it back to the steep turn downwind.
On one such occasion Tom gave it a try and rewarded us with 400 precious feet extracted from virtually nothing as far as I could see. It was wondrous to behold as Tom walked the rudders, slammed the bank in and out, pushed the nose roughly down and up again, and put that heavily ballasted Duo through her paces in no uncertain manner. The pattern we traced would have been jagged and unsightly, unfettered by any hint of grace or aesthetics. But Tom produced what I could not -- the necessary altitude to jump to the other ridge. I was grateful as my stomach was beginning to play tricks with me and I wanted to get there a lot. Tom's cryptic and didactic commentary went something like this:
"The idea here is to go where the lift IS --- (No, not that way, God this is awful stuff) --- and to do that in these circumstances, sometimes you're obliged to implement unconventional, or exaggerated course control inputs---(damn! That's not it either) --- it's not very pretty, but (there-see!) --- we're up a bit now and if we just persevere in this fashion --- (no, not in that fashion, --- more like this) -- we might just get what we need after all."
And so we did that time, although not every time. There were some that even Tom could not conquer. Those he would quickly pronounce hopeless and, early on, inject one of his many fallbacks, almost exclusively a reroute requiring more distance, but less altitude. It would be the product of Tom's seemingly endless local knowledge stemming from his many years running these ridges and from the past mistakes that any pioneer will have in his list of credits (from which you may rest assured he has learned).
And now he pleasantly passes these lessons on to us late comers, that we may be spared the danger or the disappointment (or both) which he was obliged to endure in the building of his considerable knowledge base. In fact Tom's booklet, Ridge Soaring The Bald Eagle Ridge, accomplishes just that, makes for very interesting reading, and is a must for anyone seeking to introduce themselves to these aspects of soaring anywhere, of course particularly in this locale.
And so a neophyte like me, possessing almost none of the requisite knowledge, can nevertheless take off, fly the task and land, with two indispensable aids to lean on - Tom Knauff and a Duo Discus. I can see now that my idea of getting to apprentice with highly qualified mentors through the medium of a two-seater pleasurable for men of that caliber to fly, is beginning to take shape, indeed it came to fruition yesterday.
Now, lest you worry that such a fine day could come without its darker side, have no further fear. After 40 years of flying, guess who got airsick with an hour and a half to go? Talk about your ignominious moments. Aw, man! It went from hints of things to come; to, "oh shit, I can actually taste it"; to, "This couldn't happen to me!"; to,"Hell, man, it's happening!" You just can't contain the uncontainable. Next thing I knew I had something more than a mouthful, with the excess up my nose, trying to answer Tom's, "Are you all right?" with a negative shake of my head.
Tom took the controls with a simultaneous passing of a size 12 Ziplock and speedy opening of his rear vent window. As for me, I forced down a swallow, which took care of the mouthful and did absolutely nothing for the excess in my nose. Finally, some of those bits and pieces of the Eagle's Nest best went forward and out, some retreated and some hung around for my next move. Blahh!!
After dying a thousand deaths I was awarded (posthumously) a 4.3 on Timeliness but a 10.0 on Tidy Execution. Not a drop spilled! And I'm not ashamed to say that somewhere in that Pennsylvania wilderness is Exhibit A for the prosecution - that dreaded piece of damning evidence connecting me, of all people, to that coarse act and it's cover-up - all bagged and ready for the files, although not labeled. (Who would need a label when seeing through that "see through"?)
Tom was gentleman enough not to dwell on this unfortunate "turn of events" and I felt better after a bit, but not great. I was offered back the controls and I eagerly took them in hand. I put the Duo smack down on the ridge and went for speed at the expense of comfort. And for a while things were OK. But only for a while. Wouldn't you know that I was once more obliged to repeat the process halfway from Altoona to our home field., once again handing the controls to Tom (although this time Tom was smart enough to see I had the requisite "baggy" so all he need do was to fire open his vent window and grimace).
I was frankly relieved when Tom failed to offer the controls back for landing. He requested I open the dump valve and lower the gear. Then, at Tom's suggestion, I closed the dump valve with some ballast water still on board which Tom felt would be welcome, given the wind conditions at the field. There was a 90 degree cross wind with the wind sock in full erection. It was quite turbulent and particularly "snotty" (to continue the metaphor) over the cornfield at the approach end. I watched with interest as the spoilers went full out to full in with a rapidity surpassed only by the speed of Tom's Ziplock delivery. We landed just fine on the grass and, of course, saved enough energy to cross over the runway and roll to a stop by the water ballast vogel.
"Not a bad day, all things considered," ventured Tom. "3:45 and 300 miles!"
"Trying my best to make light of the one thing we both had on our minds but were just not mentioning right then, I replied," I don't know how many miles, but you can say with certainty it was a definite "Two Bagger." That won a hearty chuckle out of my mentor and now true friend, Tom. (Of course now I'm wondering what's next. I hope to hell we haven't set a precedent here. Time and a goodly supply of Ziplock Baggies will tell.)
Cheers, Dick
PS. Our route of flight was:
Depart Ridge Soaring Gliderport, thence Bald eagle Ridge to LockHaven, thence transition (Downwind) to Nittany Ridge to its end, thence transition (Downwind) to Tussey Ridge, Thence Tussey Ridge to Cumberland Gap (stymied), thence backtrack on Tussey Ridge to abeam Bedford Gap (Baggy #1), thence transition (Upwind) to Bald Eagle Ridge(stymied), thence tranition (Downwind) back to Tussey Ridge, thence backtrack further on Tussey Ridge to Abeam Altoona, thence transition (Upwind) to Brush Ridge, thence Brush Ridge to Abeam Kettle Dam, thence transition (Upwind) with memorable penetration over Kettle Dam, through it's gap and back onto Bald Eagle Ridge just above Altoona Gap(Baggy # 2), Thence Bald Eagle Ridge to Ridge Soaring Gliderport and land.
- D.
[passed along by Rick Roelke]
I'm currently on a lengthy business trip to Germany and I went to the Alpensegelflugschule Unterwössen on Saturday (October 21). This school is one of the few semi-commercial operations and is within a couple of miles of the Austrian border at the northern end of the Alps. I spent a couple of summers there about 20 years ago and have fond memories of the terrain and the people; the terrain hasn't changed much and the people are different but as friendly as ever. I showed up at the last day of the year and they were having a competition for CFIGs only - there were about 40 of them! The contest divided them into groups of 2 and had them do a spot landing and subsequently the non-flying pilot was blindfolded and had to navigate ('Turn to a true heading of 90 and walk 5 meters, turn twice to the left and take 2 steps on a course of 180...') a course and their distance from the correct goal was measured. I talked with a group of pilots (two of whom had been to the Hilton Cup) and finagled a quick flight in a Blanik L-17. Their electric super-winch that uses solar energy was already mothballed for the winter so I got a normal tow on the diesel winch to about 900 feet. This put me slightly above the foothills but far below the snow-covered peaks in the distance, but the view was incredible and I soaked up the scenery for the 5 minutes before I had to enter the pattern (150m, ~450feet) and land. I think it was a 12 minute flight but worth it and I'd love to go back and fly on a day with thermal activity or when the wind is blowing so that the local ridge works (goes up to 2000' agl).
Auf Wiedersehen,
-Arnd.