That's exactly what it did and we were watching the radar pretty closely. Some showers and cells of intense rain were on the display but they kept missing us. I finally decided to go fly with the full expectation that I would come right back down again. And that's what happened. The air was glass smooth with virtually no wind. I decided it was a good time to try and practice landings in the 21.
On my second flight, I realized that there was warm air pushing up out of the valley and you could maintain a zero sink rate if you flew back and forth in it. I flew minimum sink rate and would lose altitude only when I made a turn. If I was gentle enough, I could keep that to about 50 feet.
Even thought it had completely clouded over, the lift was there. You could see rain to the west but all we got were light sprinkles that would pass over. I decided to take one last flight just to 1,000 above the field and make a last landing before the rain arrived. As I closed the canopy and the tow plane pulled the rope tight, it began to sprinkle lightly. I figured I needed to get u p and get back down real quick unless I wanted to get wet. I thought for a second about not taking off, but the air had been so smooth. There didn't seem to be an approaching thunderstorm and I'd flown in rain before. I continued with the takeoff.
Many times, accident prevention seminars talk about 'breaking the chain' that can lead to an accident. In this case, as you will see, there was no accident, but the chain could have easily led to an accident and in my case, the opportunity to break it was on the runway. I should not have taken off. But I did.
The takeoff roll was normal but as we cleared the end of the runway, a cross wind required quite a bit of correction to stay behind the tow plane. As we towed out over the valley, some gusts and turbulence indicated that something unusual was going on. The still overcast day had some teeth in it. I remember thinking, "I need to get back on the ground before this gets worse."
I dropped off the tow line at 2,600 feet and circled twice with the spoilers out to get down to 2,500 for approach. I did the second circle to let a 2-33 that was above me move into the pattern ahead of me. Knowing that it was one of our most experienced pilots, I decided to follow his lead and land to the North.
As I flew into downwind, I was about 100 feet high and cracked the spoilers to get to 2,300 feet abeam my intended touchdown point. I realized that the 2-33 was moving MUCH faster than normal and it looked like it was struggling to stay aloft. I turned base and the bottom fell out. I hit a very high rate of sink.
Putting the spoilers in, I put the nose down and tried to accelerate out of the lift while abandoning the base leg and aiming for the runway's edge direclty. The only appreciable effect was that the trees at the edge of the runway seemed to be getting closer MUCH faster than they should. At this point I had very serious doubts about being able to make it to the field.
Recalling all of the safety articles I had read, if the outcome is in doubt, change what is happening. I looked over my left shoulder and saw that I still had A) maybe enough altitude to clear the ridge and land in the emergency field; B) there was a semi-open field behind me that I had contemplated landing in under these exact circumstances in the past. The semi-open field is not a "good" choice because it is both downhill and uphill with bushes at irregular intervals but it was a MUCH BETTER choice than landing in the trees. Did I mention that the glider I was in is the newest one that Harris Hill Soaring, Inc. owns? Less than 8 months old and worth $117,000 dollars.
I did a hard 180 and put the nose down to gain even more speed. I'm not exactly sure how fast I was going, but I think it was over 80 knots. I realized almost immediately that I wasn't sinking nearly as fast and the drama was over just that quick. I pulled the nose up, slowed to 65 knots and cleared the ridge easily, out over valley with around 800 feet to the floor and the emergency field.
I took a couple of deep breaths and remembered what I had read from Kai Gertsen's "Off Field Landings". There are two types of glider pilots. Those who have landed out and those who will land out. This was my land out and I intended to make it a good one.
I easily lined up on base leg with the rain coming down a bit more steadily and worked my way through some gusts and turbulence. The airspeed indicator bounced around as I set up for the landing. I turned final with an extra 5 knots to compensate and everything smoothed out nicely. No push to the left or right, easy does it, when I get on the ground, nail the spoilers full and stop as quick as I can. Don't let the wing drop and ground loop.
For a moment, the thought flashed through my head "I wish I was not in the brand new club glider" and I pushed it aside as I concentrated on putting the glider in to the middle of the field. Touchdown! I yanked the spoilers hard from about 1/2 out to full out and engaged the brakes hard. I bounced to a stop and the only noise was the rain on the canopy. Holy crap, I did it!
After a few seconds to calm down, I called Harris Hill flight center on the radio but they didn't have it on. I used my cell phone to call and tell them I was at the emergency field and everything was fine.
A few minutes later, Uwe Zink, one of our club members showed up in his car and we pushed the glider off to the side. Sean Murphy, my flight instructor showed up with a rope and we pulled the glider to one end of the field while checking for woodchuck holes. He went up and got the tow plane, landed on the field and Uwe flew it out and back up to Harris Hill. I probably could have done it, but I thought it was best that my flying was over for the day!
Lessons learned - A) I probably shouldn't have taken off. Knowing that the rain was coming, I should have just let it go at that. I was lulled into thinking that it would be okay since it wasn't convective and the air had been so smooth. I knew the conditions were dynamic but now I really know what that means! B) Having taken off, I should have flown a closer downwind leg. If I'd been closer to the runway when I turned base, I would have made it with no sweat and wouldn't be writing this post. Period.
I *am* pleased I made the right decision to discontinue the approach when it didn't look viable anymore. However, I still think luck played a big part. I THINK what happened with the sink was that the wind blew up and over the north end of the ridge and was descending as sink right where I turned base leg. I know this because the 2-33 pilot did NOT encounter sink at all and winds were calm on the field after landing, he said.
That means I turned base in sink. PROBABLY if I'd continued towards the runway end I would have flown out of the sink and made the field. Certainly that is the reason I cleared the ridge. I must have flown out of it or I wouldn't have cleared it. I would have landed in the semi-cleared field and almost certainly damaged the glider or maybe even been injured or worse.
What if the sink had been pervasive along the downwind? I might have encountered it sooner and turned base and final sooner, but what if it moved across my base and kept moving toward the ridge? I would have done a 180 and kept flying the sink. If I'd been closer to the runway, I could have made a beeline for it and landed safely.
I got caught out. I made the right decision, give the circumstances I allowed myself to get into, but I shouldn't have had to make any decisions and I made it worse by not flying closer in.
I'm a better pilot, but I also know that yesterday I was a lucky one. Soaring is about decision making and I could have made a better decision not to take off. I'll take my free pass and file it in the experience file.
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