More western flying and some surprises

At this stage of my training I try to reflect on what I’ve learnt after every flight, as well as planning my flights to address some area of my training, or a bad habit. This weekend’s flights gave me plenty to learn from!

After an atrocious Saturday (they reported hail on the airfield before lunch, thankfully before any gliders had been pushed out) Sunday’s weather looked good for flying (maybe not for soaring) so I hired a car and drove out to Beverley that morning. The plan was, after getting the rust off in the ASK-21 the previous week, to do stalls and spins in the club’s Puchacz (since the ASK-21 won’t really stall or spin “properly”, without a spin kit fitted), a type I hadn’t flown before.

Just like someone with an ailment I stupidly googled what it was like to spin and found it had a reputation for killing pilots in spins (not sure if undeserved or not…). So I was a bit nervous before flying the “Pooch”. The spin and stall went off well – the stall was pretty predictable, bit of a buffet and the left wing dropped a little, and the spin was sudden but was under control in less than a turn (though we lost a fair bit of height). Piece of cake.

After the spin, we were still at 2,000 feet so had a bit of a stooge around to get more acquainted with the ship. I thermalled for a little in an intermittent bit of lift (more cloud suck than anything else according to the instructor) then tracked south, west of the airfield. There was a stiffish westerly blowing and right at my altitude was a wedge-tail eagle, sitting facing into the wind just hovering there. I passed him just in front, maybe 15 metres away, twice. What a glorious sight and feeling to be sharing the air with this big bird. He was so close I could see the wind ruffling his feathers and I could clearly see his big eye looking at me as we passed by.

My second flight was much more eventful and much more of a learning experience. The first lesson I learnt was look at the altimeter more closely and double-check that against the view out the canopy. I’d planned a tow to 2,000 feet (2,700 indicated) to just basically stooge around and get used to the Pooch. I had been scanning the altimeter after takeoff as part of some drills related to options in case of rope breaks at Beverley (calling out when passing 200 feet AGL to remind myself that from that height on I could consider turning back to a runway rather than looking for straight ahead landing opportunities) when I looked at the altimeter and suddenly thought “Oh, I’m passing 2,800 feet” and bunged off. I felt pretty stupid when after getting settled I noticed how low we were and realised I’d bunged off at 1,800 (1,100 feet indicated) instead of 1,000 feet higher as intended.

This necessitated some quick thinking. I turned back towards the circuit entry point (which wasn’t far away) and then decided to join the (right hand) circuit, as there was no lift about and the longer I faffed about the fewer options I’d have. However, as I approached the start of downwind and made my downwind call, I noticed another club glider, an ASK-21, joining downwind in front of me and slightly lower. I didn’t hear his call and it turned out that his radio batteries were flat and he didn’t hear my downwind call either.

This presented me with a bit of a quandary. After consulting with the instructor in the back seat about options (turn in early, land long, land on crosswind runway), I elected to do a “normal” circuit and land long and over the other glider (I was higher and could do this). The next few minutes provided me with all the evidence I needed that gliding requires constant thinking and assessment. Decision-making. Everything that the other pilot did and everything my aircraft did and everything that the air around us did, opened up or closed windows for different courses of action. My height and the position of the glider in front closed out a landing on the crosswind runway (RWY 26), so my options were then to continue with a normal circuit and see what developed later.

I was fairly well behind and above the ASK-21, so I definitely had more options than him, but I couldn’t be sure what he would do (he was a recent solo pilot on his first few flights, so I didn’t want to put him under too much pressure). In the end I watched him like a hawk and when he had turned final, I turned final well above him and to the side and landed long, watching him out my window as he touched down. He had been unaware of my presence until I appeared above him on final.

When I climbed out of the cockpit, I was feeling a bit shaken. I’d never had a heavier workload in a circuit before and I seen the potential for a disaster – a wrong move by me or the other pilot could have seen a crash. Similarly, a failure by me to recognise the problem, or to not actually change my procedure (such as continuing with a normal approach) could have been disastrous. I was reading one of Tom Knauff’s newsletters and he talked about Plan Continuation Bias, which is where a pilot fails to recognise or act on the need to change a procedure (due to changed conditions) and continues on with their “normal” plan.

Immediately afterwards I discussed what had happened with my instructor and his main comment was that I could have acted more decisively earlier, by turning to base and final earlier (well before the other glider reached his base leg) and landed longer. This would have had the advantage of showing the other glider my position.

I could have done this, but I was high on downwind and under normal circumstances I would have extended my downwind leg. To turn in earlier than I did would probably have meant full airbrakes or a much longer landing (Beverley’s strip is long though, so it may just have been an inconvenience).

In any case, I certainly learned a few things from this flight, including the need to maintain attention and to constantly reassess the situation and to act, rather than continue on with the normal plan. I also learned a little bit about the pressure that an abnormal situation can place on the pilot and the need for a cool, analytical head.

I also had a late flight in the Pooch and managed to take some photos – the light was beautiful and there were small shower clouds around, which made it even prettier. The trees alongside the main runway at Beverley lead to shadowing of the runway in the late afternoon, which can make it difficult to judge height for roundout, as you go from bright sky into darker conditions on late final. Tricky, but I made it okay.

One additional nice thing about the Beverley club is their tradition of having group dinners cooked by one or two members. Many club members stay overnight at Beverley as its 1.5 to 2 hours drive from Perth and there’s a heap of privately-owned caravans around the clubhouse, as well as some beds in the clubhouse itself and the club developed a tradition where a couple of members buy meat and vegetables and then cook a huge roast dinner, which other club members can partake of for a nominal fee (about $10). The kitchen was busy for several hours on the Saturday of the last weekend I was there and a beautiful roast lamb dinner with apple crumble and custard was provided for more than 20 people. Very neat and I noticed in the club’s magazine that I managed to sneak into the photo!

Back in the air – but in the West

Well, a long, long time since I’ve been in the air. 2008/2009 has been a frustrating year for me in terms of my flying progress, but a satisfying year in family and professional life. Flying definitely had to take a back seat to the rest of my life, including the birth of my second daughter Ruby and a whole lot of overseas and interstate travel for work. In the end I just couldn’t fit gliding in. I knew I was getting rusty and not achieving the things I wanted to, but I figured I just had to put it aside for the time being. Well, the time being stretched out further and further. Finally, an extended project transfer to Perth Western Australia provided the opportunity to do some flying on free weekends.

Before travelling to Perth I posted a message on the aus.soaring message boards (see here - http://www.mail-archive.com/aus-soaring@lists.internode.on.net/) and got quite a few responses letting me know about the clubs close to Perth. There’s three, all within about 1.5 to 2.5 hours drive – Beverley Soaring Society, Narrogin and Cunderdin. Each apparently has a slightly different character, different fleet and different facilities. The great advantage to flying in WA compared with Camden seems to be airspace restrictions – which are less restrictive over in the west.

I decided on the Beverley club because it was closest to where I was living, has a nice two-seater fleet, flies Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays, have a clubhouse providing for free overnight stays for visiting pilots and most people who responded to my post mentioned how friendly the club is. So on Saturday I hired a car and drove out west to Beverley (pretty country) after packing some clothes and a sleeping bag.

I got to the club about noon to find they were pretty busy doing annual checks for club members and training for about 4 others students, including three young guys who had recently soloed on a two-weekend ab-initio course.

However, I was made welcome and arranged to have my logbooks checked over and an instructor matched to me. Beverley has a sealed runway (16/34) which is mostly gravel and an unsealed 08/26 runway which has partially been reclaimed by the local farmer and so is partially unusable. Clubhouse facilities are very good, their “pie-cart”, called the Eagle’s Nest, is a sort of truncated caravan towed by a Hiace van. A row of trees along runway 16/34 create a bit of rollover in westerly winds, but overall facilities are pretty good.

The weather wasn’t all that kind however. It was a bit cool and cloudy with passing showers and no breeze to speak of and flying was interrupted a couple of times during the afternoon by rain. Not soaring weather but pretty good for what I wanted to do – which was to practice some circuits and get used to flying again.

Their main training two-seater is an ASK-21, Bravo Sierra Sierra (BSS) – almost my initials. Southern Cross has a new ASK which I haven’t flown, so I was keen to try it out for future reference.

Like fishing, patience is a virtue in gliding. I watched others have check flights (lots of abbreviated circuits as instructors gave club members challenges to deal with, like sudden sink simulated by popping the dive brakes open on downwind) and short flights by students, including solos in the two-seaters and singles. Finally, at 4.45pm (last flight of the day!) it was my turn to strap into BSS.

One unpleasant discovery was that, in common with the K-13 I’d flown, the dive brake control was difficult to use for my non-extending left arm. The problem wasn’t deploying the brakes, but locking them away – my arm wouldn’t straighten enough to positively lock them. With some experimenting we found that with the seat pan back fitted I could get myself far enough forward for my dud arm to properly lock the brakes.

Felt strange to be back in the cockpit and I was nervous. I still remembered all my checks though. Amusing incident when the wing runner showed me the tow-rope, having missed the knot that had formed just behind the ring!

Takeoff was a bit messy and it took me a while to settle back into the low tow, but things settled quickly. I released at 3,000 (indicated 3,720 – Beverley is 720 feet ASL) and the instructor talked me through the local landmarks. We tried a few coordinated turns to get used to the new machine and then I tried a stall (the ASK-21 won’t really stall – it mushes along but loses lots of height).

It was incredibly beautiful up there and really brought back why I love flying gliders. The air was still and smooth. No lift, but no sink either. Grey clouds contrasted with rich greens in a darkening landscape and in the west the setting sun threw golden light across fluffy lighter coloured clouds. Gorgeous and peaceful.

Soon it was time to join the circuit to land. This is an area I really want to focus on. I have found I tend to crowd the circuit and I find it hard to judge the angles on downwind, turning onto base too early, too high. So I ask my instructor to watch me and talk me through the angles. This helps heaps, but I have to say I was not at all proud of my first landing for 14 months. Speed control a bit of a struggle (but not too bad – 55 knots target speed, sitting around 60-65), off-line a bit and needing some adjustment to get back to centreline and then my flare was too late and not positive enough, with the result that I “flew” the plane onto the ground, rather than having the glider stop flying and settle onto its wheel. 22 minutes but I was back in the air! Pleasant dinner at the Beverley pub with some of the other members and instructors – friendly bunch.

Next day (Sunday) was much quieter and while it dawned clear and promising looking, low clouds built up and closed off any hope for thermals. A bit more of a wind on this day, which would make takeoffs and landings more interesting, but not much more than 5 knots or so. The club puts on quite a professional morning briefing before operations, covering what’s expected from the day. Only two students at the start of the day, myself and a young woman recently solo for the second time after 3 years – a precise, professional flier with a military background. Later, an older gent who had been a club member many years ago arrived, but the plane/instructor/student ratio was great today – I could fly as much as my wallet could bear.

Circuits was the plan and I was happy with my progress. I got in 4 short flights and each was better than the one before. My takeoff and tow sorted themselves out, my circuit positioning and speed control and landings got much better, though I still think I need more work judging my angles and height without reference to altimeter or landmarks. On my last flight, the clouds were starting to break up a bit and large blue holes were forming. I elected to take a slightly higher tow, to 2,000 feet, which was above the main cloudbase, hoping there might be some lift about (on previous flights there’d been some tantalising blips on the variometer). There wasn’t any lift I could find, but at one point, as I looked down at the ground, I saw an eagle circling below me. He was in lift and coming up. Not a peep out of my variometer despite me being pretty much in the same column of air as him, but the difference between our weights was decisive. He gracefully angled off and was gone. I went back to earth.

A cool poster

Saw this nice poster over at Cumulus Soaring (http://www.cumulus-soaring.com/posters.htm), with 50 Milestones in Sailplane Design. According to Cumulus Soaring, “the posters were created by Martin Simons using artwork from his 3 wonderfully interesting "Sailplanes" books”. I ordered one of the posters (a fairly simple process, but I suppose I won’t see the poster until I get home from WA where I’m presently working) but I’d never heard of the books. A bit of searching on the net I found he lives in South Australia and has written a bunch of aviation books. Must try to find some…

Papa Whisky written off

I got a shock when a fellow soaring pilot emailed me to tell me that the aircraft that I’d learnt to fly in, Taupo Gliding Club’s PW6, Papa Whisky, had been written off in a crash at Matamata in April 2009. It was the first glider I’d been in, I’d flown about 9 hours in this aircraft and soloed in it, so it held a special place in my gliding memory. It felt strange to think that it was no more.

Coincidentally, the copy of Gliding NZ that had recently arrived at the time I got the email about Papa Whisky had an item about a crash at Matamata and a net search turned up more. Apparently, Papa Whisky was at an Air Cadets camp at Matamata Gliding Club and during a simulated rope break exercise at 300 feet, with a largish instructor in the back seat and a 14 year old boy in the front seat, the glider stalled and spun in. According to the crash report, the student initiated a climbing turn to the right without sufficient airspeed (when I first heard about the crash I had thought the cause may have been due to insufficient ballast in the front seat, given the weight differential between the instructor, whom I know, and the lightweight student) which led to a stall and spin. Accident report here: http://aviation-safety.net/wikibase/wiki.php?id=59652.

Thankfully no-one was killed. The instructor suffered two broken legs, while the air cadet got serious head injuries, but has since recovered and is keen to continue flying. Sobering stuff though and enough to make me go over my rope break knowledge and options more thoroughly.

The forgotten flights

Looking through my logbook and planning to update this blog (it’s been 14 months since I’ve flown – combination of working overseas and interstate, plus the birth of my lovely little daughter number two, Ruby) I realised I had had three flights with Southern Cross at Camden in April 2008, which I hadn’t recorded here and found I had little recollection of! It was a mid-week (Wednesday) visit, so it should be memorable, but I can’t recall much of it at all. According to my logbook, I took three flights in the club’s IS28 (maybe I’m repressing the memory like a victim of violence) to 2,000 feet, 1,500 and 1,500 to essentially practice circuits. My instructor’s comments are “watch swing on takeoff” (I recall now it was a windy day at Camden and the trees along the side of runway Glider 06 caused a rollover effect with turbulence on takeoff and approach) “don’t drop nose on release. Fly circuit by angle – speed control OK, flare and hold off glider, aerotow good.”

I suppose these flights were part of my plan to go solo in Australia and to get used to things at Camden. I had found I’d relied too much on the altimeter when I was learning to fly in Taupo, so I wanted to make sure I could judge my approach by the angles. This is important because in future, if I go away from the immediate environs of the field for example, I won’t be able to rely on my altimeter when making a land-out at an unfamiliar place.

Someone’s living my dream!

I was stooging about on the net the other week and came to the Southern Soaring website – link - http://www.soaring.co.nz/ and was surprised to recognise the mug of the man enjoying a wave flight at 17,000 feet on their latest news page!

Before I’d started my glider training at Taupo Gliding Club in New Zealand, I had sought some opinions on solo in a week courses at various places, including an online forum for the Condor gliding simulator. A member of that forum, Vic, had done his training at Taupo and was going to be there the same week I eventually decided to do the course.

We shared the on-field digs, had dinner together a few times in Taupo and generally shared the training for a few days. Nice guy – he told me he wanted to fly at Omarama to experience wave flying and flying in the alps.

Omarama is like Mecca for sailplane pilots (for any glider pilots reading please excuse this primer). It’s a small town in New Zealand’s south island and a combination of mountains and prevailing westerlies result in amazing gliding conditions, including wave flying. Some private operations provide gliding tours and training (a bit like African safaris) and many gliding enthusiasts plan to make a pilgrimage to Omarama at least once in their lives. The world gliding Grand Prix races have been held there in 2006 and 2007.

Well, Vic clearly achieved his goal. Last time I’d seen him at Taupo he had progressed to flying solo in one of the club’s single seater PW5s, and now, here was a photo of him, at 17,000 feet, oxygen canulla in place, in wave over Omarama.

Well done that man!

I emailed him to get the good oil and he told me a little more about it.

He told me he flew in a near-new Duo Discus with the CFI of Southern Soaring Chris Rudge. He was (after briefings on use of oxygen, and the parachute) towed to 3,000 feet, then from ridge to ridge up to 8,000 feet, then as he describes it "punched up wind into rotor 100 knots indicated, very turbulent in sink, then into updraught of the rotor".

Having experienced a bit of rotor at Taupo a few weeks ago, I could visualise a bit of this (though working out how to transit the rotor is still confusing to me). He described being bounced about and then a smoothing out and they were into wave.

Oxygen went on at 10,000 feet, withy full-flow by 15,000 and he topped out at 17,500 feet! Vic says it was "cool but comfortable, outside temp. minus 5C".

Of course one of the tricky things about altitude flying is apparently you can be flying close to Vne (velocity not to exceed) but with a modest indicated airspeed. As well, in wave, you can be more or less standing still relative to the ground - and this happened to Vic - 55 knots indicated and at a virtual standstill on the GPS.

He seemed chuffed about his 3-hour flight (of which he flew all but some getting through the rotor). A lucky man...

Radio endorsement and a hazy flight

Off to Southern Cross at Camden today (Saturday 5 April 08) to attend a half-day Radio Procedures course put on by the club (a Flight Radiotelephone Operator authorisation is a pre-requisite for solo at the club and is a Gliding Federation requirement) and I hope to get in the final three of my pre-paid flights. The course started at 9.00 am, so I was on the road before 8.00 am for the 45-minute or so drive down the motorway.

The instructor, Woody, had efficiently posted out the course notes more than a week beforehand, so I'd done a bit of reading and searched on the net for relevant material. When I'd looked for Visual Terminal Charts (VTCs) for Camden, I'd come across a useful and attractive little download from the CASA (Civil Aviation Safety Authority), called the Sydney Basin Visual Pilot Guide for Fixed Wing Aircraft - see here www.casa.gov.au/pilots/download/sydney/sydney.pdf

It has lots of useful information on procedures, colour photographs etc. Nice.

This was the first time I'd been at the actual clubhouse, which is located in the bustle of buildings at the aerodrome (usually I have arrived around midday and headed straight to the strip). I relaxed for a while drinking coffee, chatting to the other students and some of the club stalwarts who were getting set up for the day and flicking through flying magazines.

It was very hazy outside, blue skies and no wind to speak of. This became important later.

It was a good course, covering airspace classification, the various charts and other info we use (WACs, VTCs, VNCs, ERCs, ERSA) and the procedures at Camden and other nearby aerodromes, particularly CTAF and CTAF-R aerodromes; radio procedures and typical calls, distress calls, and weather reports and forecasts.

Midway through the course, we were informed that the aerodrome had been closed because of poor visibility from smoke. Bugger. It looked like I was going to miss out on flying today.

However, towards the end of the course, I saw a couple of planes taking off and after getting my precious Radio Operator Endorsement sticker in my logbook, I zipped down to the field to see if it would be worth staying.

As I got there, the club had been informed the field was to be reopened in about 20 minutes. I'd already got my name down on the flying list first thing in the morning, so I was pretty sure I could get at least one flight that day. The field being closed for several hours had caused a hell of a traffic jam. Every working glider in the club fleet was out on the field waiting for the off and several privately-owned ships; and there was a full roster of AEFs (Air Experience Flights - the punters who help fund the club). Two of the club's Pawnees were waiting to go. There was going to be a wait.

As the field started to get active, I made myself busy waving off and wing-running and pretty soon the sky was full of gliders. Most released over Narellan way where there seemed to be some lift, despite the seeming lack of any wind to trigger things, but one cross-country flier, another Brian, took his tow well south, aiming to go to Picton and back.

Finally the IS-28 came back from a flight with a Japanese pilot who had turned up on the day to join the club; and it was my turn. By this time, it was almost 2.00 pm and the smoke had cleared away (though it still looked hazy). Pretty blue, but some cloud building to the west.

Clive was my instructor and we ran over my experience and logbook and talked about what I wanted to cover in this flight (local landmarks and familiarisation and approaches/landings). Then I got settled in the tractor-like machine and got in the air. A slightly messy takeoff (seemed to happen too soon), I dropped a wing, recovered, got onto the main wheel okay, got off the deck and held the glider nice and low, and then when the tug got off, I slotted into low tow.

On my third tow in Australia, low tow held no horrors for me. It had clicked and I could relax (got to learn to do that before takeoff!). I was planning to release at 3,000, but got to talking to Clive and keeping a sharp lookout (lots of other aircraft up there) and I'd reached 3,500 before i woke up and bunged off (pulled the plug, as they seem to say in the club).

It was still very hazy and smoky up top - no real distant views and even looking at local landmarks was tricky. The other Brian later said he had been unable to see the field from 20 kms south!

After getting the gear up, the flaps off her and trimmed for 55 knots, we stooged around a bit identifying landmarks and airspace boundaries, by which time we'd lost a thousand feet or so, so I found some steady lift, centred it eventually, and then climbed back up to 3,800 feet.

A few exercises - stalls (interesting this, with my normal stall approach - lift the nose steadily, hold stick back and back until the stall - the IS-28 would stall at about 35 knots. However, when I tried a gentle stall, only a bit of nose up and a slower washing off of speed, what looked a gentle angle of attack, the thing stalled at 40 knots!), stalls with incipient spins off banked turns, and some steep turns with constant airspeed, it was back to the field to join the circuit.

I did the radio call (first one since the endorsement), then did my downwind checks. I found I was starting to crowd the circuit a bit, had to extend a bit before turning base, had to use full brakes and sideslip a bit, but then went to half-brakes, managed my speed well, rounded out okay, but landed a bit early, with a small bounce.

Clive's comments - next flights, practice circuits. He marked up my logbook "flying well, practice circuits and landing."

Still busy when I got back, so no chance of another flight. Had to go to a family dinner, so pulled the pin about 4.45pm. Saw a young guy who been on the radio course with me go solo in the K13 - got a nice memory of my solo and knew how he felt.