Not a newbie anymore...

I started this blog right after I got my glider rating.  At the time, I was a soaring newbie but now several years later, I've finally decided I'm not a noob anymore.

I have very few, if any, readers.  I don't keep it for that reason, although I do admit to wanting to record certain things for people who stumble across a post while doing a Google search.  How I prepared for my commercial checkride, how things work at Harris Hill, etc.  But I don't keep it for any regular readers.  As far as I can tell, I don't have any.

No, I keep it more as a diary to record my thoughts on soaring.  I'm keenly aware that as I get older, it may get harder to, ahem, remember what I did and when I did it.  Writing it in my blog means I can always find it.  

I also use it to organize my thoughts about soaring.  I think about soaring more than anything else.  Probably a lot more than people who know me well would think I do.  There's an inner pull to fly and in particular to soar, that is always at the core.  If I'm not soaring, I wish I was.  Soaring just plain makes you feel good.

So, I use the blog to organize my thoughts on certain aspects of soaring.  If I have an experience that is unusual, good or bad, I usually end up writing about it.  I use it to make an explicit record of my soaring goals so I can push myself forward in the sport.  I record my inner voice and put it in an order that makes sense.  Having to write it down usually makes me articulate it -or discard it.

So I started with the intent of sharing the experiences of a new glider pilot.  But, let's face it.  I'm not new anymore.  I'm also not a seasoned pro, either.  I'm just...a glider pilot.  So I've change the name of my blog from The Soaring Newbie blog to a Soaring Pilot's Journey.  It's a better description of my progression in the sport.

And I am on a journey.  I know that I'll never get to the end of it, but that it will take various twists and turns on the way.  I've had such a blast so far and I don't see an end to the fun in sight.  With that, I'll write down just a couple of things I've learned since I got my rating a few years back.

Things I've Learned Since I Became a Glider Pilot

1.  I can always do better.  Better thermalling, better decision making, better flight skills.  Always better.

2.  I'm not improving as fast I as would like.  It seems to take forever for me to improve this area or feel confident in that area.  Always too long.

3.  Soaring is real flying.  Of course, all flying is real flying, but having been a power pilot and converting to soaring, I can tell that I've learned a number of things I never would have learned as a power pilot that have made me better than I was.

4.  Experience isn't everything but it sure does count for an awful lot.  There was a slow realization that I will never, ever, ever have the same amount of experience as many of our ace pilots.  Combined with number 2, above, I'll never have the level of skill I would like to have when it comes to soaring.  Accepting this is difficult but it also makes me even more determined to make the most of the experience that I CAN get.

5.  Sometimes, I'm a little scared.  I don't mention it much, but sometimes I'm a little scared to go flying.  It doesn't happen when I'm actually flying.  I've heard other pilots mention it as those pre-flight butterflies and that's exactly what it is.  I think I'm more worried about what might happen to others rather than myself.  My family counts on me for a lot and I would hate to get killed soaring.  Of course, I don't think that is what will happen and the odds are decidedly in my favor.  But it COULD.  I think I get jitters every now and then from that.  Once I'm airborne, they're gone because I've committed to the acts and everything goes fine -even if there's an issue, it's always gone just fine.  And probably always will.  But you can't ever say "nothing will happen."

There's other stuff I've learned, but those are the things that stick out to me the most right now.  Can't wait until flying weather rolls around again.

Here it Comes - Soaring Season 2013

If I strain just a little bit, I can almost see it coming.  Soaring season 2013.

Right now, we're in the depths of an Upstate New York winter season but even the snowfall yesterday hints at what is coming.  Instead of the light fluffy stuff and below 20F temps, we had a wet, wintry mix followed by a 42F day today.

The soaring season officially begins at Harris Hill the first weekend of April, but if it looks good, we try to sneak in a little bit of flying early.  I think we'll manage it early this year.

It's not like I haven't been BUSY with HHSC stuff, either.  I'm the Facebook page administrator (look us up!), the webmaster, and the duty scheduler, among other things.  In addition, I've organized our HHSC Flight Night, soaring with Condor flight simulator and flying online with several of our club members.

It's been fun and instructive to fly tasks when I would normally be grounded.  I've learned two things that I think will transfer to my real life flying:

1.  How to make a plan for a task, how to evaluate that task as I fly along, and strategies to fly in different environments than just HHSC.

2.  How much a glider will really perform in sink and wind.  Condor does a good job of letting you explore the flight envelope "just to see" how the glider performs.  I've flown Mifflin ridge scenery, set the wind real high, and checked out how much altitude it takes to transition from one ridge to another.

The flight physics are really quite good and I try to fly it like I would in real life.  There are times when I try something that I wouldn't in real life, but I always start by saying, "in real life, my plan would currently be to do the following...."  That way, I make a conscious break from flying for real and trying something in the simulator.  It's been fun and I hope that it will transfer to my cross country plans this year.

I've also been asked to help with our Junior's program.  I think I'll do it.  Having the kids fly is one of the greatest gifts our club can give to them and we have a world class Junior's program, thanks to Janelle Sullivan, our current Junior advisor.  She's done such a great job, we're going to have to split it among several members rather than just one.

I think it's extremely important.  Where else can a 16 year old kid be given responsibility for a $100,000 piece of machinery?  It's a huge responsibility and our Juniors do a great job handling it.  If I can help them, I really want to do that.

I'm looking forward to a great 2013 soaring season and can't wait for it to begin - in real life!

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.