Soaring Virtually All the Time

Winter weather has finally set in and I've found a new cure for the soaring blues - virtual soaring.  While not nearly as satisfying as the real thing, it's a reasonable secondary substitute in a pinch.

How do you virtually soar?  With a computer and a copy of Condor, the soaring simulator, of course!  Not only does Condor allow you to fly virtually, it allows you to fly with other people online.

There are several advantages to Condor that supplement real world experience.  First, you can repeat a task at no cost.  Need another try at that landing?  Reload the scenario.

Second, you can refly the exact same conditions.  That means you can try a cross country task one way, then try it a different way using identical wind and thermal conditions to see if you can improve.

Third, it teaches you what NOT to do in a safe environment.  How do you realize that you made a mistake in the real world?  You land out and call for the trailer.  In Condor, you reset and look at the chain of events that caused you to make the mistake.

Recently, in an attempt to help me learn to make better cross country decisions, I convinced several HHSC club members to start a Wednesday Flight Night.  I solicited interest via email to our club members and then the interested ones met up at Harris Hill for a LAN party to iron out all of the kinks before trying to fly online.  Last night was our first online session and I had a great deal of fun.  We even had a Teamspeak server set up so we could chat via voice back and forth.

The task was a relatively easy and benign one with light winds and good thermals.  Everyone finished and we had a great time.  I think this is going to be a lot of fun until the real thing comes back around.

Interestingly, there seems to be an ambivalence about simulation and its role in soaring.  Most of the people that responded to the weekly league are either junior members or Condor junkies already.  None of the experienced seniors responded or showed any interest.  Not that they are required to, but there seems to be a bias against simulation from those who have years of experience.  The whispers are that it could teach you 'bad habits' that you might transfer to the cockpit.

Maybe, maybe not.  There's no evidence of that and I know that flying in real life entails greater risk and correspondingly increased caution.  Maybe others don't but I remind myself that I fly for fun.  It's not worth risking my life to accomplish some stupid goal and I fly accordingly.

Snowbird 2012

One note on the 75th annual Harris Hill Snowbird contest.  It was pretty much weathered out.  The winds were quite strong both days of the contest and the only flights we got off were a few in the morning.  Knowing this, I was one of those flights.  It was an extremely interesting experience.

I decided to fly the Schweizer 1-26 because it has great spoilers and low energy, making it ideal for the spot landing portion of the contest.  (You have to stay up for X amount of time, touching down as close to that time as possible and stopping as close to a marked point as you can)  Winds were 12 knots gusting to 19 and more or less crosswind.

It was obvious from the flight or two before me that the wind was MUCH stronger a short distance above the field as they basically pointed their nose into the wind and parked in one spot until time to come down.  On the field, while 12 knots sounds like a lot, I've become gradually more comfortable with those types of winds and I wasn't too worried.  If it had been gustier or any higher, I wouldn't have gone and in past years I definitely wouldn't have taken off but I felt it was within my limits and those of the aircraft.

Takeoff went smoothly and I was airborne quickly, adjusting for the crosswind behind the tow plane.  Initial climb out had some minor turbulence and shear but nothing I hadn't flown in before.  A couple of bumps on tow were healthy but not the kind that surprise you.

Sure enough, the wind was blowing.  We turned left and flew to the end of the ridge and were nearly at release height!  In still air, it usually takes about two circles to get there.  I noted that and the tow plane dropped me off at the side of the ridge that faced the wind.  I released and turned to where I expected the lift to be.  Suddenly, everything was very smooth.  I was in localized wave lift and, feeling quite pleased, I parked myself in it with my nose into the wind.

I looked down at the hang glider takeoff area and watched as it sloooowly moved BACKWARDS under my wings.  The wind was blowing faster than I was flying!  I increased my airspeed to 55 mph and watched it slow up but it was STILL moving backwards.  I pointed the nose down a slight bit more and accelerated to 60 mph.  That was it, I stopped moving.  The wind at 2,000 feet above the field was blowing a mile a minute.  Cool.

I kept myself upwind of the field during the flight and as I turned back to enter the landing pattern, made certain that I stayed close and didn't overshoot my final turn due to the wind.  I added about 5 knots to my approach speed to compensate for wind shear and gusts and made my base leg turn.  As I started down final, I got some reasonable shear and rotor and I decided not to try to spot land for two reasons.  One, there are club members in the zone who measure the landing and I was worried I might veer off to one side or the other and hit one.  The other reason is the spot landing zone is at the far right and is bordered by a steep hill.  The way the wind was blowing, even if I landed okay, I might have been turned and gone over the side.  I decided to play it safe and land in the middle on the grass.

They cut off flying right after that when a 2-33 reported a loss of control on tow.  Apparently, the shear was too much and despite full rudder and aileron, the aircraft wouldn't change direction.  I think what was going on was the wind would blow harder at some times than others and that would move the shear and turbulence back and forth across the ridge.  In any case, I agreed after I landed that it was probably wise to call the contest.  With the forecast for even more wind we didn't need to wait around for it to show up.

And that was the 75th Snowbird.  

Poof! 2012 is Gone.

***POOF!*** 

That was the sound of a a *miserable* October saying so long to soaring in 2012.  I'm afraid to check the weather service to see how many cloudy days we had in October because I'll bet it's more than I think.  My guess is ALL OF THEM.

About once every three years this happens.  A fantastic September with sunny skies and moderate temps with good soaring evaporates like a late day cumulus cloud and is replaced by overcasts that either prevent soaring flight or are so low you don't even take off.

Looking back at the 2012 soaring season, I have to say it was excellent.  I started with the twin goals of reactivating my single engine private pilot's license so I could fly our tow planes and learning cross country flying.  Just as I was lining up instruction for that transition, our Piper Super Cub towplane was damaged in an off-runway excursion that put it out of commission for good.

So, I switched to my other goal - learning to fly cross country.  It opened up a whole new window on soaring for me.  I knew I would learn a lot and I did.  Flying with an experienced and world class cross country instructor was probably the best part because I learned how they make decisions and was able to compare it to my decision making and adjust for the cross country environment.

Although October robbed me of the ability to get checked out in the single seat Discus, our high performance cross country machine, that should be a rather straightforward process at the beginning of April next year.  Then I'll take one or two more cross country instructionals and if all looks good, I'll start doing it on my own.

I know there will be ups and downs, literally, in that process and I was heartened by what one of my instructors said about his early cross country experiences.  "I wasn't encouraged by anyone and I had quite a few landouts that were the subject of many comments by the veteran club members."  I'm sorry for him, but I'm sure I'll be in the same boat sooner than later and I'm going to remember that.  He's an ace instructor and contest pilot now, so if he was able to do it, I'll be able to do it as well.

Sooooo.....goals for next year of soaring?  Here they are:

1.  Requalify for cross country flight, get checked out in the Discus and do some cross country flying.

2.  Check out in the new Super Cub for tow duty (whenever they get the new one purchased)

I'm going to skip CFI for now.  Too much to learn, still.  Maybe another year in the future but right now I can see plenty to do in the next year.

I almost forgot to blog about 75 years at HHSC!  In August Harris Hill Soaring Corporation celebrated its 75th anniversary.  Although flying has taken place in and around Harris Hill since the early 30's it wasn't until 1937 that the Elmira Area Soaring Corporation was formed.  This organization was formed to hold contests but by 1967 it transformed into the modern day Harris Hill Soaring Corporation with the mission of education, demonstration, competition.  

I'm incredibly lucky to be a member of this organization.  It's really the only place I've ever flown a glider from and the experience has been top notch in addition to the club itself.  The large size of the club (100 members, approximately) and its co-location with the National Soaring Museum make you savor the experience.  There's lots of "better" soaring locations but I am obviously biased in favor of HHSC and have been so lucky to be a member.  This is the organization that was able to rekindle my love of flight and I am a MUCH better pilot today than when I showed up at their doorstep 5 years ago.  I'll always be grateful for that.

Discus checkout - not yet!

The best laid plans...  Well, it was rainy and windy on the Saturday I was to be checked out in the Discus, so I rescheduled for the Wednesday night training session.  Unfortunately, due to tow plane and instructor availability, it was also a no-go.  As was this weekend when the weather was rather fickle.

It's typical of the Fall season of soaring.  Even clear days will often have some wind and fewer thermals or lower clouds.  I've come to recognize that the real meat of the soaring season lies in the Spring/Summer months.

I'll reschedule for this Wednesday, perhaps.  If not, I'm the on-duty pilot for commercial operations next Sunday afternoon.  Maybe I can get the checkout done either Saturday or Sunday morning.

It's not like I'm not flying.  I was comm pilot on the 16th and am up again next week.  Getting a checkout this Fall is fine but I won't be able to fly a whole lot before it gets cold, anyhow.  It's more for getting a good start when Spring soaring comes around next year.

In the meantime, I've managed to achieve one of my biggest goals - learn how to cross country soar this summer.  I'll go into next season with much more confidence and start my solo cross country career then.

Cross Country Training Part 4

"Forecast: Crappy!," said one of the pilots at the field as Tim Welles and I prepared the Duo Discus for flight.  In my fourth cross country lesson, I learned quite a bit, including the fact that a forecast is just that - only a forecast.

As the image of our track above, shows, it was indeed possible to fly cross country on this particular day.  The yellow, orange, and red areas show the climb portions with yellow the weakest and red the strongest.  Dark blue shows heavy sink.  The departure point is at the top in the red "F" balloon and you can see that we headed South/Southeast from Harris Hill in Elmira down to SkyHaven airport just to the West of Scranton, Pa.  Total out/back was approximately 155 miles and took 3 hours, 15 minutes.

This time, I tried to be more proactive in flight.  I called out audibly, "I'm looking at the cloud street over there and think that there may be lift under it and if not, there is another set of clouds that look like they will work."  Tim is a world-class competition glider pilot and I made sure to distinguish between what I thought my level of confidence and experience would be vs. what I would do with him onboard.

Tim threw everything at me this time.  I really like his method of instruction - he's both complimentary and demanding.  Rather than make you feel stupid, he tells you when you do something well ("you are entering and centering the thermals better") and balances that with teaching lessons ("what did you turn that direction for?!")

I experienced task overload, just like he said I would - try editing the turnpoints on the PDA while keeping the thermal centered plus deciding which direction you will be going when you reach the top of climb!  As Tim said, a lot of the things I should be doing weren't things that were unknown to me, but it was the context of the flight that makes them sometimes lag behind where I should have been completing them.

The actual flight went pretty well - our departure from Harris Hill and trip to the Southeast was 180 degrees opposite from where we *thought* we would fly before we put the glider together.  The forecast didn't really accurately depict the possibility of overdevelopment to the Northwest as much as it actually occurred.  We headed Southeast instead and as we flew along the bases went higher and we found decent thermals in 6-8 knot range that allowed us to average 5 knots in climb in many cases.

We did have to jump across the blue hole drifting South from Seneca lake and that hole persisted all the way South along our route, requiring us to cross it on the way to Towanda and then cross it on the way back to Mansfield.  This was the trickiest part of the route as cloud streets gave way to more sparse and less developing clouds.  The route I picked might have worked, but Tim vetoed it and we headed more Westerly.  He flew for pretty much the only time the whole trip.

That was when I got sick.  I thought I'd been doing pretty good, but for whatever reason, I did.  Fortunately it was minor and after managing to use the bag, I took over again and flew the rest of the way without issue.  Sigh.  It is what it is.  I've always been a tad prone to motion sickness but my tolerance since I learned to soar has gone up significantly.  I'd say that after 2-1/2 hours of flight with plenty of circling and warm temps, I did reasonably well to last as long as I did.  Whatever.  The real cure is to simply fly some more, so I'll keep doing that and have a bag handy if necessary.

After that little episode, I felt better but I need to figure out how to make the seat more comfortable.  You practically recline in the Duo but since we're not flying contests in it, we don't wear a parachute, which acts as a cushion.  I used a couple of pillows we have laying around but I need to pay closer attention to what I'm using.  My back was sore the next day!

As we approached Mansfield, Tim wanted to point out the local landmarks and it was amazing that you could see all the way to Cowanesque reservoir, our turnpoint and looking Northeast, Harris Hill.  It had been a bit hazy most of the way but the conditions were changing and the haze cleared.  I took a boomer of a thermal near Mansfield and after topping out at 7,000 feet felt I had plenty of altitude to get home, which was helped by the fact that there was still quite a bit of lift in the blue!  We showed in excess of 10 knots of lift even flying in a straight line and took full advantage of it.  On final glide, the computer reported I would have at least 2,000 feet above field elevation so I put the nose down and we rocketed the last 18 miles or so at speeds sometimes in excess of 100kts (about 120 mph).  It was glorious.

This time, I managed to slow us down, get us configured, and enter the pattern at the proper airspeed.  It was still a struggle to suddenly fly so slowly after zooming into the area but I kept a close eye on it and flew the pattern to Tim's satisfaction.  Touchdown was sooner, speed was slower, and we coasted to a stop almost precisely on the location we'd left some three hours prior.

What's left?  Tim is on duty next Saturday.  Weather permitting, I'll get a checkout in the single seat Discus, our club's competition level sailplane.  I'll fly locally and find out how it handles (everyone says it flies like a sports car), and hopefully make a couple of landings with it.

Then, I'll do a lead-follow.  One of our experienced instructors will lead and I'll follow him on a cross country flight.  We'll keep in touch on the radio and I'll get to fly it on my own skills alone.  After one or two of those.....well...I'll be on my own!  A whole new dimension of soaring will open up for me and one that I hope I'll be able to become good at.  I'm looking forward to it.

Cross Country Training, Part 3

The day started with little promise as I arrived at Harris Hill to a lead gray overcast.

"You know, we're probably not going anywhere today", my instructor, Tim Welles, said. I acknowledged that, but I asked him if we could at least check me out in the club's Discus so the day wouldn't be a total loss.

He agreed and within the hour were strapping in to the Duo Discus for local flight training. We stated up about twenty minutes but the building Cumulus clouds signaled that if the overcast would clear, the day still might take off.

A few minutes later, we were climbing in a thermal and in no time at all, Hariis Hill was receding into the background. We were headed cross country.

Cloud bases were just 4,500 feet giving us a scant 2,500 feet above the high ground, but we stopped early and often for more lift. As we headed West, the bases rose but so did the floor and we eked our way into the lift, managing to stay aloft.

It took us over an hour to fly the first 50 miles.  Some clouds would work, others wouldn't.  We wove under all of the scraps of clouds but it was in the blue that the thermals were best.  Finally we arrived over Hornell, and turned back for Harris Hill.  We kept especially alert to stay in the upper third of the altitude band, especially over the higher ground.  The turnpoint at Hornell was Arkport airport and I was sort of hoping for some lift to take us higher as we turned.  "If you hang out near an airport in case you land while looking for lift, you'll usually end up landing there," Tim laughed, as I circled vainly working weak lift.  We pushed out and towards the town of Hornell.

"I've got it," Tim said as we sunk below 4,000 feet.  The town was looking kind of close, below.  Under a likely looking cloud, he circled, adjusted, circled, adjusted, circled, decided that the weak lift was the best we would get and kept circling.  Slowly.....slowly....slowly...we gained altitude.  After what felt like about 10 minutes, I began to consider exactly when I would begin to feel sick and how long after that it would take before I threw up.  Fortunately, the answer was never!  On this day, I'd felt much better than the previous flight and while I'm sure I could have reached my limit if we'd kept circling, it never happened.

"Okay, your aircraft," Tim said, as the lift improved and we climbed safely out of trouble.  I took over and kept us centered until we couldn't climb any higher and off we headed back to the east towards Harris Hill.

The lift was getting weaker and farther between as we returned.  A circle in promising lift would turn out to be a lie, we'd continue on and the same thing would happen a few miles later.  We were able to dodge from cloud to cloud in zero or weak lift but that would be erased by heavy sink.  Still, we were able to fly quite long distances without losing lots of altitude.  Eventually, I could see the town of Corning coming into view but it was clear we would need to gain altitude to get all the way back to Harris Hill.

We were within gliding distance of the Corning Painted Post airport when Tim called out, "Okay, my plane."  At this point we had perhaps 1200 feet between us and the high ground.  Weak lift under a cloud kept us from descending but climbing was a different matter.  Tim worked every inch of the lift area looking for the best spots but we weren't climbing.  Still, this was our best option.

More circling and a hundred feet of altitude gain was followed by...more circling and another 100 feet.  The computer said we needed 900 more feet to arrive at Harris Hill's runway elevation.  In another minute we had 200 feet more, then 300, then 400.  "Your plane," Tim said.  The thermal strengthened into a beautifully strong and easy to center updraft that carried us to more than enough altitude to make it back.  It took another couple of turns so we could speed up on the way back.

I left the thermal at 80kts and found plenty of lift on the way back.  So, I accelerated to 90kts.  It was exhilarating to burn along at 110+mph and it only took minutes to return to Harris Hill.

Perhaps I was a bit too excited because I entered the pattern hot and never got slowed down properly.  We put the gear down and I still flew into final with about 10kts of extra speed and a slight tailwind.  The Duo Discus is a marvelous machine and it does NOT want to quit flying, whether you want it to or not.  I landed long and had to get on the brakes hard to get us stopped before we went off the end of the runway.  "That was scary," Tim said.

Lesson learned.  Keep a razor sharp eye on the airspeed and keep it under control on landing.  If not, you'll be sorry.

Tim said the conditions during our flight were difficult.  I, being a cross country newbie, wouldn't know any different of course.  But it certainly took us quite a bit of time to travel only a little way - 132 miles total took us nearly 3 hours.  I was glad I experienced a difficult day and I learned an awful lot about proper thermal technique, what to look for, how to think two steps ahead and so forth.  What I really learned was that I can't wait to do it again.

Maybe this Saturday...the forecast is looking pretty good.

Cross Country Lesson #2

I got started in earnest on my cross country training today.

About two weeks ago, I got a taste of another dimension to the sport of soaring when I got my chance to fly the club's Duo Discus on a short cross country of an hour or so. Today was my first real experience in how to cut the apron strings and move out beyond gliding range of Harris Hill. It was both fascinating and frustrating.

Mostly fascinating. I learned a huge amount during our 140 mile flight. Stuff that would take years to learn on your own was offered up for free as the trip unfolded. I learned that I've more or less been eyeing the clouds up properly, that my instincts are mostly correct, and that I'm on the right track. Mostly.

It was frustrating because I felt I didn't fly as well as I could. I felt like I was mishandling the airplane, flying behind it a bit. I don't think I flew it nearly as well as I did the previous time.

I'll attribute some of it to not feeling lquite 100% today. I woke up feeling ever so slightly off kilter and after breakfast I felt mildly nauseous. But I attributed that to nervous excitement. It was...something else and i'm not sure what. At one point during the flight I felt ill and had to get some air. I didn't get sick, but I wasn't far from it. My instructor had me fly and the feeling passed, but I just wasn't quite right all day.

At least that's the excuse I'm going with.

Regardless, the whole experience was a blast! I got to fly in imperfect conditions, so it wasn't a Textbook soaring day. We headed West towards Hornell even though the forecast was for better conditions to the East. But the clouds were closer together that direction making it look less promising.

As we flew out over Corning, the thermals were cooking and it didn't take long to say so long to Harris Hill. We dodged from cloud to cloud and took a thermal or two that was promising. The issue was that we were never all that high. The thermals would weaken about 1,000 feet from the clouds and we were consistently around 4,000 feet the whole time.

At one point, we were down to 3300 and we needed a thermal. We sauntered around a bit, trying this spot, then another until finally we connected with a decent thermal and got back up to a more comfortable altitude.

We turned back East about 5 miles from Hornell and made it back quicker due to a tailwind. We zipped over Harris Hill after catching a monster thermal and riding it up near cloud base. We worked our way towards Binghamton without having to circle much. One glide segment was 42 miles!

The return trip was similar with two stops for altitude and a nice swoop over Harris Hill as we arrived home for landing. Total distance was approximately 145 miles at an average speed of around 59 mph.

I learned a lot about the art/science of deciding what thermals to use and what thermals to pass up. I learned about staying in the green zone of lift and how falling out can burn precious time. And I learned that you really can fly away from the Hill if you have the proper training.

I'm ready for more. I'm going to try to get checked out on XC this year, but as long as I'm making progress, I'll be happy.

XC - Cross Country

"What do you mean you haven't flown in the Duo?  You need to get in there!," one of our senior members said.  It was late in the day and the lift was still good, with cycling cumulus clouds for most of the afternoon.  The sun was starting to move lower in the sky but there was still some lift left in the day.

I explained that I'd been trying to arrange cross country instruction in the Duo for several weeks but a broken canopy latch had kept our Duo Discus grounded for a couple of weeks.  Just then, someone exclaimed, "Pretty!" and the very object of my desire -the Duo, flashed past in a high speed low pass, pulled gracefully up and entered the pattern for a landing.

After it rolled to a stop, the instructor yelled, "Anyone need the Duo before I put it away?" and the senior member I was talking to shouted back, "Tom's going to use it!"  He quickly arranged for one of our advanced instructors to take me for a ride.  "Go!  Go!," he shouted and before I knew it I was in the front seat of a competition class sailplane about to take my first cross country trip.

Monty Sullivan, the instructor, talked me through the basics of the takeoff, we hooked up, I waggled the rudder and we were airborne almost immediately.  The ship handles very nicely and wasn't skittish or difficult to fly.  I spent some time getting used to the feel as we climbed and pretty soon we were off in a thermal.

After that, it's all sort of a blur.  But a happy one.  I spent a little time feeling like I was mishandling the Duo and it took awhile to sort out the low and high speed characteristics but despite my clumsiness, we were circling through 5,200 feet in just a few minutes and set off to the south from cloud base.

The most impressive thing about the Duo is the speed range.  It handles well circling at 45 knots and is equally at home screaming through the sky at 80 knots.  The handling is light but not twitchy, the aircraft doesn't feel nearly as big as the specs say it is (20 meters) and it is an easy touch to fly.

I won't bore you with the blow by blow of the flight - it was simply a short out and back in the evening lift, but it was further than I'd ever flown from the Hill before and it was so much fun to do it with the confidence that an expert instructor brings with him.

Arriving back at Harris Hill, we milked the lift for all it was worth at 7:45pm and set up for landing in still air.  The approach speed is similar to the familiar ASK-21 although the glide ratio is better, so you need to keep that in mind as you approach.  Only upon touchdown did the mass and wing size of the Duo become apparent.  I was certain we were out of airspeed and the beast would give up flying just as we touched but no - a bump and we floated again for another 50 feet before we touched down for good.  It also took a lot of brake to bring us to a stop, even though we'd touched down right on the numbers.

To say I was excited would be an understatement.  I REALLY enjoyed breaking free from Harris Hill, even though we never went all that far - perhaps 15 miles or so.  But it was enough for me to get very interested in flying some more.  It's really another level to soaring and one I'm looking forward to exploring.

Leveling Up

Although I'm a bit frustrated by my lack of progress on either the towplane or cross-country side of soaring, I've taken steps to fix the cross-country issue starting next week and in the meantime, I've continued to fly as much as possible, particularly commercial flights.

Recently, I was scheduled as commercial pilot on a day with awesome weather but a forecast for building winds.  By the time I began to fly, it was 15 knots steady with about a 20 degree crosswind with gusts above 20 knots.

Before flying passengers, I took the time to talk to an instructor, asked several pilots who were flying, and talked to the previous commercial pilot about the conditions.  They were as I had expected - yes, the winds were strong but the crosswind component wasn't enormous and the required North landing was the area of interest.

On a day when you have strong winds from the North, you approach the runway from the South, heading North.  Because that is on the lee side of the ridge, you can expect any or all of the following:  turbulence, wind shear, rotor, sudden loss of airspeed.  Flying myself is one set of risk management decisions.  Flying a paying passenger is another set.

Based on my consultations and experience level, I decided to take a passenger flight.  Knowing that the winds would strengthen as the day went on, I kept that in the forefront of my mind for whether I would take another passenger later.  My plan was to be particularly alert for uncontrolled departure from intended flight path on takeoff, releasing if necessary.  On landing, I would stay very close to the field, add 10 knots to my approach speed to compensate for shear, expect turbulence and turn final early to prevent an overshoot.

My passenger was a 3,000 hour helicopter pilot.  I made sure he knew that it could be bumpy but after we got a few hundred feet below us that it would smooth out -at least until we landed.  He said he was looking forward to it.

Takeoff was smooth and uneventful.  I kept my hand near the release knob, made sure to correct any drift IMMEDIATELY and we rolled nice and straight until we were airborne and I crabbed into the wind after liftoff.  Whoosh!  We rode the elevator of lift up the front side of the ridge and had 300 feet beneath us in almost no time.  The tow was mostly uneventful until we got around the lee side of the ridge and I watched the tow plane sink waaay down below me.  I added opposite rudder for more drag and eased the nose down just as the tow plane popped up again giving me a slack line.  I kept the rudder in and let it out just as the rope went taught.  Problem solved and we were back on tow in the proper position.

I released above the ridge in the company of at least 4 other gliders and the flight was excellent.  Real ridge soaring in consistent winds, smooth and positive lift.  Either end of the ridge worked best and we spent most of the 20 minutes over the ridge flying slow, fast, circling and generally playing around.  We  started our descent from about 500 feet above where we'd released originally.

I entered the pattern midfield and set my approach speed to about 63.  In a flash we were downwind.  Given the tailwind and my extra speed, we were probably traveling close to 80 knots over the ground.  I turned to base early to keep from over-running it, then flew the base with the requisite crab as we began to pick up some turbulence from the hill that lies on final to the runway.  I turned early to final so I wouldn't overshoot and rolled out with plenty of altitude.  I extended spoilers fully, pointed the nose down to keep the speed up and we flew off the altitude without an issue.  We hit the normal shear and rotor on extremely short final, using up the last of our altitude and I settled in to the flare, touching down just slightly beyond my aim point.  I flew a couple of more rides that day, each one slightly windier than the last and we decided to cut passenger operations off for the day around 2pm.  

The most amazing thing to me was how confident I was in handling the aircraft in very windy and gusty conditions.  I know what my personal limits are and what they are for passengers.  The conditions were well within my no-go criteria.  Last year, I probably wouldn't have flown in these conditions but this year it was truly a non-event.  Effectively, I have 'leveled up,' in video game-speak.

I'm fully aware that with a few hundred flights under my belt, I'm still a less experienced pilot than many on our field.  I will do my best to balance the desire to push my limits outward and the over-confidence that can accrue to a pilot with moderate experience.  They say that in the power flying world there is nothing so dangerous as a 200 hour pilot.  That's the level where you think you can handle anything but you haven't seen it all yet.  That is probably where I am right now.  I'm eager to take on more challenging flying but have to balance that against the macho pilot instinct to fly regardless of conditions.  Especially with passengers, who expect ME to keep them safe.

I did an accurate assessment of my experience, the risk of flight, and the expected conditions, but the flying was not what puts me up a level.  It was my decision to quit flying as the winds developed further.  The difference between 13 gusting to 25 and 18 gusting to 35 is one mainly of degree and risk.  While I could have flown a personal flight in the latter conditions I didn't do it with a passenger.

THAT'S my level up. 

Epic Soaring

The soaring today couldn't have been better!  

Good soaring today.  It looked a lot like this picture.

I showed up at Harris Hill later in the afternoon, a crisp, clear, 80 degree day that makes the summers in  the Finger Lakes so very, very pleasant.  I had, ahem, domestic duties to attend to but I kept glancing at the building cumulus clouds and feeling the day slip away from me.

Finally, around 3pm I made it out there and they were looking for someone to give a passenger ride so  I strapped in and took Amy from Big Flats up for a ride.  The conditions were GREAT and we stayed up almost at will, enjoying the scenery below.  At least 5 other gliders were near us -some high, some lower, some at our altitude.

After landing, there were no other passengers to take up but the conditions were so good, I decided to go alone.  I took off and Roy McMaster, our tow pilot, towed me right into a huge thermal.  I should have let off right then but was a little slow.  Fortunately, Roy did a 180 and towed me right back into the thermal.  I cut loose and started my climb upward.

4,000, 5,000, 6,000 feet and the thermals were solid with 4-6 knots showing on the variometer.  I looked out and saw a cloud street headed toward me, so I circled and waited.  Pretty soon, I was near cloud base and sharing the thermal with a hang glider.  As I topped out, I decided to jump across the blue gap over to the cloud street.  I pushed 70 knots through the blue and pretty soon I was across and under the next street over.  

The lift was good, the street was long, and I followed it down South of Elmira over Southport.  I was losing almost no altitude during the transit and used the time to figure out where the best lift was.  I turned back and traversed the street back to the North.

I spent the rest of the flight jumping from one cloud to another and trying to work on how to use them to move from one part of the sky to another.  After some time, I centered up a NICE 6 knot thermal underneath a cloud and rode it up to cloud base.  I began to get some rain on the canopy and checked to be sure it wasn't turning into a thunderstorm.  Off in the distance, I'd been watching a buildup that was moving towards me and decided that although the conditions were good, they were dying just a bit and I should probably get down and get the glider put away.

I landed around 5:30 with about an hour and a half on the clock.  The soaring was fantastic, and the skill building was great practice for cross country flying.  All in all, one of those soaring days that you dream about in the middle of winter and hope for on a summer weekend.  Awesome.

Dreaming of cutting the strings...

I have...had...two goals for my flying this summer.  First, I wanted to get my tailwheel transition signoff  so I could learn how to fly as a tow pilot for our operation.  We're quite shy on tow pilots and...well...there's no reason I can't operate an aircraft with an engine.  I am, after all, certified for Aircraft Single Engine, Land (ASEL).  It's just been a while.  Plus, I sort of have a distrust of aircraft with engines, now that I've been flying aircraft without them for quite some time!

Anyhow, that goal is on hold after an incident that caused our club's Super Cub to depart the runway in gusty conditions (I was not part of this incident) and end up with quite a bit of damage.  It's out of commission for quite some time, likely the balance of our flying season at the very least.

The object of my desire - the Schempp-Hirth Discus

On to my second goal - get certified in the single seat Discus and learn to fly cross country.

They call it 'cutting the apron strings' and it means flying out of gliding distance from your home airport and often from any airport.  It is something that I've been trying to prepare for since I got my glider rating.

First step - fly with one of our cross country instructors in the Duo Discus, a two seat version of the Discus.  We are so fortunate to have world class pilots who will instruct you in the technique of cross country flying at Harris Hill and I will take advantage of that.  Once I learn the basic techniques, I'll get a checkout in the single seat Discus and the fly in tandem with another cross country pilot -me in the Discus, him in his glider.  I'll follow him to see how he does it and hopefully learn enough to begin learning on my own.

I also have the Condor glider simulator to work with.  It's a great tool for learning how to cross country soar.  I've ordered rudder pedals for my computer setup and will start giving it a workout.

I am, as everyone is when they start pushing out beyond the airport, excited and nervous.  I've done two things to try and prepare for this phase of my flying.  First, I've worked and worked at flying thermal circles at a steady airspeed and at least 45 degree bank angle.  It is critical to know how to quickly center and take advantage of a thermal when you encounter it.  I'm better than I was and I think I'm good enough to go out with an instructor and fly cross country.

Second, I've been learning about spotting lift conditions and cross country considerations.  I've read Helmut Reichman's excellent book, "Cross Country Soaring" on the advice of instructors and there is a LOT of information in there that can help you stay aloft.  I need to re-read it as I begin to fly cross country.

It's going to be a little while before I can get started, though.  Right now, my real-life workload just won't let up and has conspired to keep me from being flexible enough to pick a day to take off for training, a prime requirement for a good training start.  Hopefully, that will let up a bit soon but I've been thinking that for the past month and it hasn't happened.

It's killing me, too.  One of my soaring friends recently cut the strings and flew away on his first 150 mile triangle and sent back incredible pictures of him with a huge grin on his face as he circled at cloudbase.  We both started flying around the same time and our flight 'careers' have progressed at roughly the same pace.  I was surprised how much those pictures made me realize that I have to get REAL about making my transition to this new level of flying.  I'm not sure it is what I'll do ALL the time, but it is something that will make me a much better pilot, whether I fly locally or not.

Anyhow, I'm looking forward to the trip and I'll keep posting here about the journey.

That Voice in Your Head

Sometimes a little bit of experience can go an awfully long way and I'm finally getting to the point that *I* have some experience in soaring rather than taking it in from others.

Today wasn't the *best* day to fly passengers - when I got to Harris Hill it had just rained, but was clearing nicely.  There was a high overcast but we had a window of decent weather before winds were expected to build a bit and rain would return later in the day.

I was the commercial pilot on duty and right away we got a passenger.  As I said, the rain was a short shower and the ceiling was quite high, still overcast, and the radar showed showers NE and SW of us, but not coming our direction.  I took the passenger up, we had a great flight and when I got back, we waited for more passengers.  It was a slow day.

In the meantime, Tim Welles, our CFI was busy taking students up for training.  As the morning wore on, the winds began to build and by twelve-thirty I saw a few gusts to 15 mph.  But the wind was a mild crosswind, perhaps 30-45 degrees and the ridge began to work.  Our students were still flying and I kept my eye on the radar.

Around 1pm, we got another customer.  I explained to her that the winds might make it a little bumpy but the ridge would be working and we should have a good flight.  Sure enough, we had 1,000 feet before we cleared the hang glider launch point.  Near the top of the tow I got a few droplets of water on the canopy.

That's when I knew I'd been here before.  My only landout in our emergency field happened in the same conditions minus the wind.  I'd been looking at the weather but looked closer this time to see if any rain looked like it was on its way.  MAYBE there was some out to the North/Northwest but it was hard to tell.

I flew along the ridge and watched the glider below me, two of our members who were riding the ridge in an ASK-21.  I wanted to see if they turned into the pattern to land.  If they did, I'd probably do the same thing.

We stayed up for a few minutes and then I spotted what looked like heavier rain coming towards us, perhaps 10 minutes off and I began to pick up sprinkles of rain on the canopy.  I decided to land before the gust front hit, so I opened the spoilers, descended into the pattern and put it on the ground.  My passenger had a great flight despite the rain and in truth, we were probably only shortened by 5 minutes or so.  

A few minutes later, after the other glider landed, we felt the gust front come through and I was glad I'd made my decision to land.  It was that experience from my previous landout that allowed me to recognize what was likely on its way.  It's funny to think that when I started this blog, I was a newbie pilot and now I'm writing down today's flights as my 218th in a glider.  That's not a LOT of experience, but it is adding up to the point that I'm able to use it in my decision making.

Emergency Procedures

"We're not climbing properly," I said to my passenger as we took off from Harris Hill on a beautiful Spring evening during one of our weekly training sessions.

Seconds before, I had been sitting on the runway awaiting my turn in the tow line while running through the checklist.  I asked my passenger (a friend of my son's) to read each of the steps while I performed the check.  When we got to the Situational Awareness line, I explained that now is the time to visualize what you would do if something unexpected happened.

Usually, that's a tow rope break but a few moments later I was dealing with a potential towplane engine problem.

The initial tow up to takeoff speed was SLIGHTLY different but not enough to alarm me.  It felt like slow, smooth acceleration but as we rolled down the runway I noticed it took a bit more distance than usual to get airborne and that we weren't accelerating quite as fast as normal.  I glanced at the airspeed indicator as I lifted off and it was about 5 knots slower than it should be.

I watched the towplane, still rolling on the runway, pass off of the pavement and onto the grass, bounce once hesitate in the air, then bounce again on the grass and finally stay in the air.  As we passed over the brow of the hill, it followed the contour down to gain speed.  We were at 60 knots, the proper tow speed for the ASK-21 glider it was towing.

Harris Hill is atop a ridge some 700 feet above the valley and within a few seconds we were blessed with 700 feet of altitude to sort things out.  I followed the tow plane, climbing VERY weakly, but at least climbing, as we turned to the West.  I made the remark about the tow plane not climbing properly and prepared to release if I saw the propeller stop.  We continued West, alternating between a weak climb and maintaining altitude.

I keyed the mike and asked the towplane pilot if everything was okay.  No response.  I located the emergency...er, ALTERNATE, landing field in the valley below and prepared to land there for the second time in my gliding career.  As I did, the tow plane made a 180 degree turn and we headed back toward Harris Hill at what looked like the same altitude as the runway.

We arrived on what I would describe as a very close right base leg and the tow plane rocked its wings from side to side -the signal to a glider pilot to GET OFF.  I released immediately but didn't think I had the altitude to get back to the runway.  "We're probably going to have to land in the valley below," I told my passenger.

I continued gliding towards Harris Hill and made the decision that I would only try for the field if I was sure I could make the turn - a 90 degree right hander without getting close to the ground.  After all, on my left was the safety of the valley and the field below.  The last thing I wanted to do was try to be a hero and dig in a wingtip trying to turn too low.

I lost little altitude as I flew down base, but I was MUCH lower than I usually am.  I took one more look and decided that not only did I have enough to make the turn safely, but that I might actually have a shot at not landing in the grass short of the pavement.  I checked my airspeed (speed is life!) and decided to make a gradual turn with the idea of landing diagonally across the field if I misjudged my altitude or encountered sink.  The grass landing would be uphill and there would be no danger of overrun if I had to roll out and land before completing the turn.

I lined up on final, spoilers still closed, and flew a normal approach at the normal speed, easily making the paved threshold of the runway, touching down with spoilers closed.  I immediately popped them open and maneuvered us to the edge of the runway to get out of the way of the tow plane who, I was sure, would be right behind us.

He arrived a few moments later and we discussed what happened.  "I left the carb heat on somehow."  Carburetor heat keeps ice from forming in the venturi and choking off air to the engine.  It is usually used on landing and apparently the tow pilot forgot to turn it off.  When it is on, it robs the engine of about 200 rpm of power -apparently just enough to make climbing out with a glider attached quite difficult.

Later that evening, I reflected on what happened.  I felt good about the fact that I was never particularly alarmed, I kept my cool and made good decisions.  My training for rope tow breaks took over right away and everything worked out just fine.  It really helped that Harris Hill is on a ridge.  If we'd had to clear an obstacle on flat land, the ride would have been much hairier.  As it was, I gained more experience and learned a little something about my flying skills.

Taking Another Step in my Soaring Journey

"Can I speak to you for a minute?"  It was Peter Smith, the Director of the National Soaring Museum and a good soaring friend.

Turns out the topic was rather interesting.  The National Soaring Museum is operated separately from Harris Hill Soaring Corporation but the two are intertwined in terms of interests.  Harris Hill Soaring has members on the board of the NSM and NSM has a position on the Harris Hill board.

The opportunity was to become a board member of the National Soaring Museum.  I was flattered and not sure exactly what the duties were.  While I am a board member at Harris Hill, I don't know the day to day challenges at the NSM.  I hesitated, then began to ask a few questions.  I told Peter I would get back to him.

Later, as I thought it through, I decided I'd accept.  I'd been toying with the idea of not running for the board at Harris Hill this Fall because I'm already the webmaster and the duty scheduler PLUS I've been running the experimental forecast product, RASP for this summer.  It's quite a bit of effort and I thought I'd take a break for a short while.

This seems like an opportunity to help out in a different way.  Hopefully I'll find a way to fit in and contribute.  It's another step in my soaring journey.

Father and Son Soaring

This weekend, my son Kevin, got back in the air for the first time this year.  We went up to Harris Hill later in the afternoon, not really caring whether there was good soaring or not - he just wanted to get a flight in.  Who was I to say no?

It was quiet when we showed up but there was an ASK-21 on the line - number 8, and we did a walkaround, then strapped in and got ready for takeoff.  Winds were light, although they had favored a North landing for most of the day.

After we took off and were suitably high enough, I turned over the flying to Kevin, who immediately realized how rusty you get when you don't fly for a few months.  To his credit, flying tow from the back seat of the ASK-21 is a little more difficult and he hung in there without getting too far out of line from the tow plane. 

We let off at 2,000 above the field and found our first thermal.  Kev flew some sort-of circles as he tried to remember how to fly a circle at a constant airspeed.  It didn't help that I kept telling him to tighten up on one side and lessen the bank on the other to move us into the lift.  Nevertheless, we managed to climb steadily and pretty soon were at 4,000 feet on the altimeter (about 2,500 above the field) before it began to peter out.

We moved North out over the valley since the low ground seemed to be where the thermals were being generated and found several more thermals.  We hung in there on one for a good 10 minutes and Kevin finally started smoothing out and centered the strongest lift.

After a few awhile, we decided to head back to the field.  We'd seen a few other gliders in the air, particularly number 6, which had stayed above us most of the time.  I had Kevin run through the checklist as we approached the initial pattern entry altitude.  He's been taught to use WEAT as a memory aid, so I had him run through it.

W - Wind.  "Hmm.  Winds are light, I've only landed North on the couple of flights I've had this year, let's land South.  Slight tailwind, but nothing we can't handle."

E- Emergency?  "Nope.  No emergency."

A- Airport Surface. "Nobody on the surface, the tow plane is parked over by the hangar.  We've got the field all to ourselves."

T - Traffic.  "Nope, don't see any....."  

Kevin called out, "Straight ahead!"  At the same time, I spotted number 6 flying slightly lower than us and heading in the opposite direction.  I'd entered the downwind leg for a South landing while he'd entered the downwind leg for a North landing.  Opposite directions, similar altitudes.

I maneuvered out of his way and did a 180 to change direction and follow him in for a North landing.  We both stopped near each other and discussed what had happened.  In the end, neither of us did anything wrong.  I probably should have landed North because that was the prevailing direction for most of the day.  But, I wanted to practice a South landing and...well...we more or less had the field to ourselves.  Except we didn't.

The other pilot had obviously not spotted us as soon as we had spotted him.  He was a little more alarmed at what had happened, particularly because he had done a scan of the traffic pattern before entry.  Twice.

No harm, no foul.  What was supposed to happen is what did happen and the result was a non-event.  See-and-avoid is based on one or both pilots seeing and avoiding.  In our case, even if neither of us had seen each other, it would have simply been a close call - and frankly, not nearly as close as we are when we thermal together.  But that's usually when you are intentionally flying near each other.  This was not intentional.

Lessons learned?  Well...nothing really to change in my operational procedures other than to be sure I remember to follow WEAT in addition to the pre-landing checklist.  Keep a sharp eye out, remember that even when there are just you and one other aloft that when you enter the traffic pattern, that's when you are most likely to be in the same place, perhaps at the same time.

First REAL flying of the Season

Amazingly,  just two days after the snow picture in my previous post, I had some great flights at our Wednesday night training session.

All day it looked pretty iffy with low overcast and wind.  The forecast, though, promised a North wind, giving us ridge lift and clearing clouds in the afternoon.  Sure enough, right on cue, the overcast parted and we went to mostly sunny by about 4pm.

I headed up to Harris Hill and did my pre-flight of number 6, a dear friend of mine by now, and was the first to take off into the North wind with 10 gusting to 15 right on the ridge.  Up, up, up, we went as we met the lift from the wind off the end of the runway, climbing at about 1,000 feet per minute.  I released 120 seconds later at 2,000 feet above the airport.

Number 6 and I are good friends

I decided to probe the ridge for expected lift and headed East to the other side of the ridge while I still had altitude to search for it in case it wasn't there.  All I found was fairly strong 4-6 knot sink with some sections of zero sink.  I returned quickly, trying a different path so I didn't fly through the sink but it was no help.

Arriving over the Western section of the ridge, there were pockets of what I thought were ridge lift but when I reversed course they didn't seem to still be there.  I tried figure 8's when I found it again but fairly quickly, I needed to get into the landing pattern.  With the winds being gusty, it was going to be a North landing and that's nothing to fool around with.  I sped up, entered downwind and made my base turn close in.

I hate that first base turn - you feel like you've hit a brick wall and the runway starts to rise up to meet you MUCH faster than you are approaching it.  It's partly an optical illusion, but also quite real.  As you turn base, you are headed toward a higher section of terrain and simply flying towards it makes it look like it is rising up to meet you, but you also have to beat it into the wind, which costs you altitude.

I sped up a little more and angled in towards the runway, then realized I was going to make it with no sweat.  I opened the spoilers, checked my airspeed and landed a little further down the runway than I had actually intended, but it was all good.

The second flight was the best one.  When I got out of the glider after the first flight, the wind had died down quite a bit, which explained the lack of lift on the ridge.  Someone asked me if the clouds were working.  Duh?  I was so focused on flying the ridge that I couldn't really answer it.  Stupid.  I had been mistaking thermal lift on the ridge for ridge lift.

Determined not to make that mistake this time, I launched again and got off tow in the middle of a beautiful thermal.  I managed to center it and rode it up to 6,000 feet!  Looking at the clouds much closer now, I saw that they seemed to be lined in a street, although the actual clouds themselves weren't the classic flat bottom puffy cumulus you normally see.  They were sort of wispy and torn up a bit.

I followed the street out a bit and connected with another thermal and rode it up to 6,900 feet.  Then, I spotted a street about 3 miles to the East.  Feeling brave and knowing I had plenty of altitude to make it there and back, I put the nose down and flew through the expected sink, arriving about 800 feet lower.  The street and thermals weren't as strong over there with mild thermals but mostly zero sink, so I headed back to the original street, again another 800 feet lower and connected with a nice thermal that took me right back up to 6,500.  Below me, most of the snow was gone from the farms on the hilltops with just a trace left in the shadows of trees and buildings.

The rest of the flight, I flew up and down the street experimenting with "dolphin" flight, a technique I read about this winter.  You speed up between thermals, then pull up sharply when you encounter lift.  Trying it out, I could fly perhaps 2 miles fairly quickly and lose just 2-300 feet, an improvement over simply straight gliding.

It was getting late, so I put out the spoilers and brought myself down after an hour or so.  Lower down, there was quite a bit of 2 knot lift still available.  Ignoring it, I entered the pattern for another North landing.  With the wind a bit less than before, the final approach was less turbulent and that sinking feeling less pronounced.  I put the glider down reasonably close to my aim point and rolled to a stop near the main hangar.  All in all, a great way to start the new flying season!

Wha...!!!??

It's flying season, alright!  Whoo hoo!  Let's get out there and catch some...what?  A little late season snow to remind us that although the winter was unusually mild, yes Virginia, it can snow in late April around here at times.  And does.

With a 70 degree day and short sleeves just 3 days ago, the cold rain that moved in over the weekend (cancelling flying...AGAIN) turned into snow overnight.  Cool temps will continue this week, but my 5+ years of living here tell me that we'll turn the corner and experience increasing temps starting with the last weekend of April.

2-33 Refurb Continues

Title this post "Number 3 returns home!"

We received number 3's main fuselage frame and horizontal stabilizer back from K & L Soaring.  They sandblasted, repaired, and painted the steel and returned it to factory new.  In fact, one of our members who was a Schweizer employee remarked that they never left the factory looking as nice as it does now.

Here's what we sent them:

And here's what it looked like when it returned:

K & L sandblasted the frame, then filled it with oil and pressurized it.  The found and repaired any areas that leaked -including one porous repair weld and some minor damage near the skid plate attach point.

Now, we'll reinstall the controls, then send it up to be recovered by a professional nearby, and then begin the process of reinstalling the interior.  Optimistically, we'd like the process to take about 8 weeks.  We'll see how long it REALLY takes, but everyone is anxious to get number 3 back to the line for duty.

RASP is nearly a reality

http://www.harrishillsoaring.org/rasptable/RASPtable.html

It's been quite a journey, but the final pieces of RASP are falling into place. A special thanks to someone I've never met, Alan Crouse, a fellow soaring pilot and talented programmer for taking the time to assist me with an area of deep mystery to me-JavaScript programming.

At this point, the model runs each night work and are repeatable while the web display is partially working. We can now move on to validation and verification of the data.

Still more work to be done but it is mostly of the tweaking variety, not the heavy duty lost in the wilderness stuff I've dealt with since Thanksgiving.

Meanwhile, I've been reading Helmuth Reichman's excellent Cross Country soaring in preparation for the coming season. Jam packed with incredibly useful info on techniques, rules of thumb, and experience it would take a lifetime to gain. I'm looking forward to putting it to use this season.

Miscellaneous

I've purchased and begun to read Helmut Reichman's "Cross-Country Soaring" on the recommendation of one of our instructors.  I'm getting brushed up for my adventures in cross country soaring this summer.  I'm excited about finally cutting the purse strings but also mindful of the risk it can entail.  I'll try to be as conservative as I can and learn the ropes slowly.

My soaring goal is to get checked out in the Discus single seat glider this year and fly it enough to feel confident enough to take it out when I want to fly cross country.  I'm also intending to fly commercial passengers whenever the opportunity presents.  It will improve my skills and cost me no money at all.  That's what I got it for!

A new job for me

I'm the new webmaster at HHSC and I've been working on updating the current website.

Our previous webmaster did it for 12 years -MORE than enough time!  And now its my turn to help out.  I've started from scratch and will try to use the current site to feed content into the new one while streamlining it a bit and trying to make everything easy to find, blah, blah, blah.

So far, I've got test pages for the main page and the passenger rides page.  Probably two of the most important ones to get the season going.  I'll run them by the powers that be and get feedback from them to get it right.

RASP

Rasp works, but I'm still struggling with getting the results posted on the web.  I'm managing to make SLOW progress solving the various issues and problems of the web world and I've almost completed the local processing and machinations it takes to get the files into a format that you can depict them.

Then, comes figuring out the web side to get the files to display.  Again, slow and steady wins the race.  Thank goodness.  This project has occupied me basically all winter.

Facebook

I'm the Facebook administrator for the HHSC Facebook page.  It's fun and we've gathered a few 'likes'.  Hopefully we'll get a few more as they discover us.  I try to post one or two things there every day or so.

Bam! RASP for HHSC.

After several months of intensive work to get the RASP model to run, yesterday the system finally succumbed to my efforts and spit out a 2 stage Windowed run for Harris Hill and surrounding regions.

Honestly, it was like getting a late Christmas present.  Setting this forecasting model up and getting it to run has been incredibly tedious.  RASP is a tempermental set of several programs and scads of parameter files with such a steep learning curve, I was really starting to wonder if I was going to get it to run.

The breakthrough came early this month when I managed to get the system to generate a single stage forecast for the default region and then a 2 stage windowed forecast at higher resolution.  At that point, I knew that I had a working model but needed to build a region for Harris Hill.

The GUI tool for building the region turns out to be tempermental too, but in a different and more annoying way.  I'll spare you the details since all is forgiven now that I've managed to build and run a 2 stage forecast for a custom region.

Now, the real fun begins!  I've assembled a group of our local soaring weather experts and asked them to help in validating that the model outputs the right answer.  For all I know, it's making predictions that have no basis in reality.  I really haven't taken the time to compare its accuracy.

First challenge is to get the data out onto a server that they can look at.  Then, I'll try to actually build a web page that will organize the information in a way that makes it easier for them to review.

God help us if the model isn't accurate.  There's so many knobs and settings I could tweak that require meteorological expertise I could easily make it worse by changing any of them!

RASP update

An update on getting the Regional Atmospheric Soaring Prediction (RASP) model up and running.

Typical output from a RASP forecast
Source: ValleySoaring.net

1.  This thing takes a lot of time for someone who knows only a little bit about Unix.

2.  After about 100 hours of futzing around, most of which consisted of reading documentation and tediously tracing configuration files, I've managed to get the model to output a forecast for the default region.

3.  I'm using the GUI tool to draw/build a forecast region specific to Harris Hill.  Right now, I've defined the region but am stymied by the need for a particular Fortran library the isn't readily available for Ubuntu 11, the operating system I'm using.

4.  I've been stuck like this before and I'm going to ask for help from a Unix loving friend if I can't find the library I need.

5.  If I can successfully define the region, I should have a fair shot at getting the server running for Harris Hill.

6.  There is sure to be a lot farther to go!