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My first 300K, and How I never Done it We've all read dozens of articles in S&G about the amazing flights some pilots manage: winning a world title; 750 Km in a Ka6; 1000 Km in something hideously expensive; the list is endless. If you're anything like me, and pray that you aren't, these stories are very interesting, but simply do not represent "flying as I know it". We all need a challenge every now and then, but these are way off the radar. I first decided to learn to glide in a pub, one Easter weekend: the conversation came on to gliding (nobody remembers how), and I said, "Yeah, I've always wanted to do that (hic!). Why don't we all do it together - I know a place where we could do it?" A few pints later, and our minds were made up. On Tuesday morning, amazingly, we discovered that we all meant it, so we rang Lasham and learned of the Wednesday evening course. At this point, my target was to fly at least one solo flight before old age claimed me...This was my challenge, but I wasn't sure that I would make it. As I progressed, slowly getting ever more ticks on my Ab Initio card, I heard of the Red Card; of the Bronze Badge; of cross-country flying; of the Silver Badge; Yellow Card; of Blue Card - where did it ever end? I was absolutely convinced that I would never want to fly x-country: Basingstoke was in a distant country and it was far too risky to go that far. After four summer months and quite a few days skived off work, I was sent solo. I didn't want to go; it was only the fact that there were too many people who would see me wimp out that convinced me to stay in the cockpit. I loved it, and had a second go just to make sure that it wasn't total luck. Now I was on the "real White Card'. Things seemed to get considerably harder, but this was only because higher standards of flying were needed by then. Somewhere along the line, an instructor took me up on a good Saturday and I had some experience of thermalling. I almost vomited in the cockpit! This definitely was not for me. However, I persisted in coming down to Lasham, and even got used to going round and round in small circles without donating my lunch to the club. One day, I was flown out to Basingstoke; that was a real highlight for me, and it marked the beginning of a change of mind...maybe x-country wasn't an impossible target after all. Slowly I realised that I would like to get my Silver. I nearly gave up completely when I found myself in a Ka8 - CJM - over Basingstoke with 2000 feet on the altimeter. When I started back, I finally found out what they meant by the saying that 'the Ka8 is pretty poor into wind'. I was never going to get back; I was too scared to panic, so I just pointed for home and guessed that somewhere between 45 and 50 knots was a good speed. I made a pact with God: "Let me get back, and I'll never go this far from Lasham again". I made it home after finding lift back up to 3000 feet, and shall now probably go to hell, because I lied. I was truly bitten by the bug. It was so bad an addiction, I even started coming down to Lasham to arrive 30 minutes before daybreak in the dead of winter - the infamous Early Morning Course. The next summer, I started in earnest to go for Silver. As a Surrey & Hants member, I used the Ka8's to fly solo. At the end of June I found myself sneaking a Friday off work because it was going to be a good day. I got 474 in the ballot, and was ready for a serious attempt at 5 hours. One exciting launch later, I was happy as a pig in muck skimming around the sky. I nearly blew it by losing concentration and finding myself at 800 feet on my downwind leg. A massive bump up the bum, and I was in a thermal. Feeling brave, I turned and got away again. From then on, I wasn't going to take any chances. Every scrap of lift was my friend - I just wanted to stay up for the whole 5 hours. As the afternoon wore on, I started to get a few minor cramps in my legs, but because cloud base was going up all the time, I kept at it until finally it got to 16:45 and I knew I had made 5 hours. But wait, a doubt crept into my mind: was it 11:40 or 12:40 when I launched? Even though I was pretty sure that I launched at 11:40, I just had to stay up for another hour. When I landed, I was ecstatic: Silver Duration, and a chance of the height as well. I nearly fell over when I climbed out of the cockpit - 6 hours and 17 minutes in a Ka8 will do that to you! So, just the dreaded 50 Km to go then. My first attempt, ended as a 'no show': there was a problem with the vario, and I wasn't going to go off x-country in a Ka8 without one. Eleven days, and quite a few field landings later (including the infamous '2 fields' landout), I made it to Bicester in CJM. Gerard, Jeremy and Paul Halliday also got there that day. It was fantastic - a Lasham day out to Bicester. We had more pilots there than they did! You can see that x-country flying has now taken a hold and I now cannot imagine giving up before I get at least one Diamond - the 300 Km goal flight. Which brings me around to last Saturday. I really thought that it was the day I would make it. Several people were setting off on 750 Km tasks; even more on 500 Kms, so a 'mere' 300 Km must be possible for me? The grid was launching very slowly for some reason, and I regretted not taking a winch launch. Ho hum! It happens. Two trailers along from ours, there's another Standard Cirrus, and the owner, Nigel, was also going for his first 300 Km. We agreed that it might be useful to fly together as we'd have 2 pilots trying to find thermals. Sadly, it never happened as I only got up 30 minutes after Nigel, and by the time I was ready to start, he was already at Chilbolton. We kept in touch by radio though, and it was good to have someone to talk to every now and then - it helped me to know that it was still possible... At Salisbury, I wasted 30 minutes by getting very low, only 1200 feet above Lasham. For a while I was 'local soaring' around Old Sarum airfield praying for lift. I clawed my way up again and by keeping a lot higher, started to make better progress. Some of the thermals were wonderful - the fast lift in the Empire State Building cannot be this fast! I got to the turnpoint after 2 hours and 16 minutes of flying; 137 Km, which was an average speed of 60Kph achieved. Not great, but I was so happy to have got there. From where I was, I could see both the North and South coasts of Devon - visibility was great. I loved it. Sadly, that was the end of the good bit. Now I was flying into a slight headwind and things weren't so easy. Another low moment at Westbury, and I started to worry. Gradually I passed the danger area on my right. Should I give up and head back for Lasham, or go north to Membury? Only wimps give up*, so I pushed on even though the clouds were starting to all join up...The radio was not totally comforting - hearing that somewhere else pilots were still averaging 7 up whilst I was barely making 3 just told me that thermal centring skills are not really in my arsenal. I got to Membury at about 2000 feet above Lasham and there's a lovely looking airstrip right there, so I went round the turnpoint, just so I could say that I completed 2 legs of the task, and tried desperately to stay up. By then, I was under a fairly big area of dull looking cloud so I knew there was no hope. So annoying - I only needed about 5000 feet of climb and I would make it back. I gave up and decided that a cross wind landing was the best choice as I didn't fancy the short runway below me. The landing was uneventful, but 20 minutes later, the sun came out again and I was standing under a lovely cu calling Lasham for an aerotow retrieve. Nigel made it back, and he was a very happy man in the bar later on. I'm disappointed, but Nigel's success only emphasises the point that it was possible, if only I was a better pilot. So what now? Try again or give up? Never will I give up! It was hard work; I had to really struggle a few times; my toes nearly suffered from frostbite, but it was still the best flight ever - until tomorrow...
* I must point out that the best pilots also decide to return home if conditions are weakening. I 'm neither a wimp, nor the best so I carried on. |
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All views expressed here are absolutely nothing to do with The
Lasham Gliding Society, the best place to glide in the UK.
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