On the ridge at Taupo and a tricky landing

Finally back in the air. Today (Sunday 16 March 2008) I managed to find time out of some work in New Zealand to visit the Taupo Gliding Club. The forecast, which I'd been watching eagerly from Australia, was indicating westerlies and better than 24 degrees C. Westerlies at Taupo mean the ridge at Mount Tauhara, the 4,000 foot hill south of the club field, works, so I was looking forward to a good day.

However, by the time I arrived in NZ, the forecast was for south-easterlies gusty, and strengthening. I took my chances and arrived around midday to find it breezy, but not too bad. Gusting 10-15 knots or so.

It was nice to see all the familiar faces and aircraft. It was a real blue day with nary a cloud (expect for some high lennies suggesting wave far out to the east), but Gordon, coming in from some air experience flights said there was some lift around.

I didn't have long to wait before my flight, though we needed to do some mechanical work on the PW6. One of Gordon's passengers had pulled the wrong red knob - the front canopy emergency release, rather than the red normal canopy release (thankfully on the ground when he was getting out, rather than in the air, which would have been expensive and messy), so we took a few minutes to refit the canopy.

It felt good to climb in and do my NZ checks (which I still remembered). Tom was my instructor and he said we would go to the south-east face of the ridge.

Getting off was a bit tricky - it was quite turbulent near the ground, but I got things under control and it smoothed out a bit above 1,000 feet, though it was still a bit of a roller-coaster ride, with big bits of lift and bumps.

I bunged us off at 3,700 feet when we'd reached the SE face of the ridge. This height puts you just under the top of the ridge. We released in strong sink, but I got in close, really feeling the wind pushing me onto the ridge, and then we were in quite strong lift. A good 6 knots up and it was like an elevator ride - woosh, up we went and almost immediately I could see the people standing around the trig point on the mountain and on the track leading to it (there's a walking track up the mountain and being a Sunday, there were probably a dozen hikers on the mountain). We were above them so quickly in steady strong lift, that lasted well out beyond the western end of the ridge.

In three turns we were at 4,500 feet, so we turned upwind and did a couple of stalls (preceded by the HASELL checks). The stalls were no problems at all, losing only a couple of hundred feet in all, then we pointed back to the ridge to get back the height.

There's something special about being on a ridge - you're close to the topography, which is always exhilarating, there's the strong constant lift that's exciting, and you can see and wave to people on the ridge below (or often on the same level) and imagine how you look to them.

After gaining our height back, we pointed out again for some practice in sideslipping and maximum rate descents. I'd not done sideslipping before so deliberately. I was conscious of the theory and the technique, and had done a little almost intuitive sideslipping on approaches with a crosswind component, but I'd been eager to learn them properly. We did several, rudder over, then ailerons to the reverse direction. The airspeed indicator is entirely unreliable in a sideslip, as the air is travelling across the sensor, so you have to be alert.

We also did a maximum rate descent, combining full airbrakes with a sideslip. Man, you can shed some height quickly that way - useful to get out of unwanted lift.

Back to the ridge for another couple of passes to regain height. I took a couple of photos - the lake was looking beautiful and I managed to get a shot over my shoulder of the end of the ridge.

Then back out to try a couple of wingovers (Tom did these) - nice! Nose down to get about 75 knots, then up and drop a wing at the top. One each direction - brilliant!

After this, things got interesting. We heard on the radio Lima Sierra, the privately-owned vintage Ka-6, getting a tow, requesting to be dropped off at 4,000 on the same part of the ridge as we were. There was a radio call from the towplane soon afterwards, that he was downwind to land, so we started to look out for the Ka-6, which we were expecting to see around our height and close by.

However, no sight (and it's a brightly-coloured aircraft - there's a photo of it in an earlier blog entry) and Tom called up the Ka-6 and Centennial Traffic to find out his position. Centennial Traffic reported that no other aircraft was up, and that the Ka-6 had aborted takeoff at 200 feet and was almost back in the hangar! Apparently, it was starting to get very gusty and windy at the field and the light Ka-6 had got seriously out of shape very soon after takeoff. The pilot had bunged off at 200 feet, done a fast turn and put it back on the ground.

Very soon after this Centennial Traffic called up to say they were suspending operations due to strong crosswinds that had quickly built up. Time to go back!

I headed us back to the field, around the eastern side of the mountain. In front could be seen thermals over ploughed fields, lifting plumes of dust, which were beiing strongly blown sideways at about 100 feet. There was strong lift out there, but also strong winds.

I positioned us downwind for 06, but we had lots of height and patches of strong lift meant we needed a different plan. I pushed out further downwind from the field to lose height, but there was even stronger lift out here.

Tom, looking at the windsock standing straight out on the field, and considering the cramped 06 approach, decided on a mid-field approach to 22 to get down quickly and safely, as it was clear the wind was only getting stronger and our approach, wherever it was, would be in rotor from Mount Tahuara (as we were directly downwind of it and needed to move upwind to the field).

Tom took control and we headed perpendicular to the field, passing through some strong turbulence off Tauhara. I took a short video (link below), and even holding with both hands it was impossible to hold it steady. Check out the video to see how bumpy it was. I could feel Tom working the brakes and rudder pedals like mad.

We got close and low, before Tom turned us onto runway 22, about halfway down it's length. With what looked like gusting 25-30 knot crosswinds, he had lots of speed in hand and we were approaching at a good 75 knots. Tom kept us in a long float and we touched down and stopped just short of the clubhouse. An exhilarating landing and I learned a lot in that few minutes.

A 39-minute flight (brings me to 9 hours 40 minutes total from 49 flights) and an exciting day.

The wind built to the extent that lots of strength was required to put away the gliders, and the towplane even tried to fly onto the fueling tractor! It actually rolled forward into the wind - very strange, but the folk looking after the pre-packing away fueling were able to hold it until it was chocked.

First ride in the K13

Finally, at the end of my holidays, I got a day with promising weather (a Friday) that let me plan to get out to Camden to fly. I had found the transition from flying in NZ to flying locally a bit of a hit to my confidence. Looking back, I wasn't all that happy with my first flight at Camden with Southern Cross. I found the low tow position difficult to get right, the IS-28 felt like a tractor (with the joystick seemingly under my chin) and my landing was rubbish.

So I was a little nervous driving out to Camden on Friday, but the weather started looking better as I got further south and by the time I got out there (about a 45-minute drive) I was excited about flying again.

There was a surprising amount of club members out at the field. I'd seen on the club's Google group that the whole Camden field had been closed because of waterlogging after all the bad weather, so I imagine there were plenty of people who hadn't been able to fly for a long while.

However, I didn't have too long to wait. Duty instructor was the pleasant John J and today the two-seater for students was the K13. I'd always thought of the K13 affectionately, but never as a "proper" sailplane - more an old-school relic, so this would be interesting. It's covered with fabric for God's sake! Other club members assured me it flew sweetly. The club's K13 is a pretty machine - bright red with white wings and a bubble canopy.

When it was my turn to fly I did the ABCD check, then John looked over my logbooks and we discussed what I wanted to learn/revise:

• getting the low tow position right and getting more of a "feel" for it


• getting used to the area and the angles at this field


• working on my landings, particularly speed control

I climbed in and got comfortable. The brake lever on the K13 is a long way forward and I found it a bit of a stretch for my dodgy left arm (which won't straighten after a bad elbow break). I had to have my left shoulder strap looser than normal so I could lean forward a little to reach it). The trim control is on the right side up near the canopy rail and moving trim doesn't move the stick - the K13 has trim tabs on the elevators. Fixed gear and no flaps. Rudder pedal position is adjusted by moving a set of sort of ratchet teeth. This time, I made sure I had full rudder movement.

Gettng off the ground I ended up floating the K13 a lot higher than I wanted to before the towplane got off the ground - you give some back pressure to get the aircraft off the front skid and onto the main wheel and then more back pressure to get unstuck, stay close to the ground until the towplane gets off and then stay low as the tug climbs above you, to your final tow position beneath the slipstream.

John J advised me to line up the towplane's mirror and tailplane to get in the correct low tow position and this reference point helped a lot. Once I got there, I relaxed and my tow went much better. After release I trimmed for 55 knots (got a nice comment from John for that - he said I'd trimmed correctly, slowing to the desired speed, than trimming, while other students often try to use trim to get them to the desired speed) and then went looking for some lift. When I'd arrived at the field, there were some promising coulds about and another clubbie, Brian, had said that the Blipmaps suggested things would get moving about 1.00 pm. However, by my takeoff around 2.00 pm, it was a blue hole, with a sort of mist and some very whispy clouds. No-one was staying up for long.

John had me locate the field (which wasn't where I was expecting it) and then showed me a few landmarks and likely thermal locations. We'd got some lift from a cloud during the tow, but after release, the cloud had disappeared! At one point, as we were flying towards a curve in the river where sometimes thermals are triggered, a small cloud appeared out of nowhere right in front of me, so there was definitely something there. However, thermals were hard to find and short-lived (or I was drifting off them, or turning the wrong way). In the PW6, thermals would give one wing a definite nudge, indicating clearly which way to turn, but maybe the K13 was heavier, or more flexible or something, because while I kept waiting for some thump to show me which way to turn when the vario showed lift, I never got one!

I did manage to stay in one thermal long enough to claw back a couple of hundred feet, but there was as much sink as lift around and lift was hard to find. What was cool was being joined by another sailplane also scratching around for lift. We shared the same thermal (or tried to) for a little while, and while I'd brought my camera hoping to get some shots from the air, I was too busy keeping a lookout and trying to stay up to get it out. Next time.

There was lots to see and having at least 2 other gliders in the immediate area meant I was kept busy looking for aircraft. Very cool to see them above, below, behind or in front. Saw a few birds too, including some Ibis below and a hawk or kerstrel zooming along. I also got a bit of a fright from a kid's red balloon blasting past the canopy at a great rate of knots!

After searching for more lift, we found overselves in a lot of sink and it was time to get in the circuit. I was much happier about my circuit and landing this time than last. Downwind checks whent well, John had to remind me when my speed dropped a little on downwind and my radio call missed "Camden Traffic", but other than that, I got in the right position, judged my turn to base well and I was happy with my landing.

I got the brakes out on base, watched my aiming point and managed my brakes and nose to maintain 55 knots. My roundout was a bit strange, probably because the K13 seems to have a bit of a nose-down attitude from the front seat. I rounded out at what i thought was the right height and waited for the landing, which happened a little more firmly that I'd expected (not too firm). John said I'd flow it onto the ground. I may have ballooned a little at roundout and then put the nose down a bit.

No time sadly for another flight that day - had to get home to pick up my daughter from child care - but it was a nice flight, though only 26 minutes.

I didn't get to stall or spin the K13, i hope to do that next time. Tasks to work on for my next flight:

speed control in the circuit

landings

Finally back in the air!

Well, today (Saturday 12 January 2008) it finally came together. A warmish Saturday and we drive down to Camden for the first time. While looking for the Camden Airport sign, I see a glider above us. My heart beats a little faster.

We find the club, I sign up and then we settle in to wait for my flight. Most of the club's aircraft are still out at Cootamundra at the summer camp, but there are two two-seaters doing duty for flights and TIFs - a K13 and an IS-28.

There's a few people here getting joyflights (these are being given in the K13) and students and it's not until almost 3pm before I get my flight.

First time in a glider since 25 November - more than a month and I'm feeling rusty. The weather's pretty good though - a blue day, a gentle breeze but some black stuff brewing in the south.

My instructor takes me out to the IS-28 - India Uniform Juliet and runs me through the different checks done at Southern Cross, compared with NZ.

They do a pre-flight ABCD check (Airframe, Ballast, Controls, DI), then their cockpit check is CHAOTIC instead of the CBSIFTCBE I'm used to. I take a little while familiarising myself with the aircraft, which is quite different to the PW-6 I've flown in NZ.

The IS-28 is aluminium, has retractable undercarriage and flaps and the cockpit is set out differently, more like a Soviet spacecraft, lots of metal bits. The rudder pedals are a long way away and the stick is tall. Instead of holding it in a relaxed hand down near my lap, it sits up tall.
Before launch it's flaps zero, trim set nose-down.

After launch I get to see another difference between the way they do things here and in NZ. Australia does a low tow, beneath the slipstream of the tow plane and it takes me a while to get comfortable down there.

After release, I trim for 50 knots and make some turns to get comfortable with the glider. It feels weird. The rudder pedals are a long way away, even with the seat well forward and the pedals wound back and I'm not sure I'm getting full rudder. The stick also feels clunky and almost feels like the instructor is fighting my movements (though he's not).

After a while I relax a bit and can carry out a few coordinated turns. It's very dirty and hazy outside with some dark stuff building up in the south, so the view's not up to much. My instructor tells me when it's clear the Sydney skyline and Blue Mountains can be seen, but not today. He shows me some local landmarks, including Camden.

It's a busy piece of airspace. In addition to runway Glider 06, there's also Camden's 06 for GA (lots of Cessnas, Scouts and Tiger Moths blatting about), so a good lookout is essential here. I see plenty of power planes as well as the club's K13 (below us) and an Astir from Sydney Gliding Club above.

While it's a blue day, there are some good thermals around, but I find them tricky to centre. Eventually I latch onto a good one - 5 to 10 knots, a real bump in the seat of the pants - and ride it from 2,000 feet to 2,500. It was nice to have the feeling of riding the thermal again, watching the ground and the sky, seeing an Ibis riding the same thermal, but beneath us.

We then try a few stalls and an incipient spin. The IS-28 is gentle in the stall, but a bit wicked in the spin.

We only had a half-turn in the spin, starting from a steep turn, but I remembered my bit and managed not to mess anything up.

Except for the landing... We arrived at the circuit a little high, so turned upwind to lose some height, then turned, flew downwind and made my call "Glider India Uniform Juliet joining downwind for Glider zero-six" without any hiccups. During downwind checks, I discovered I'd never retracted the landing gear after release!

Flaps are set in downwind, gradually, aiming for full flaps by final. This was the acid test, judging when to turn in and then making a decent landing. My turn in was okay (maybe a little high) and with a bit of a crosswind I felt I struggled to get lined up right. My speed control was a little wonky and I had much the same problem here as I did in NZ - my speed creeping up in the approach, to about 60-65 knots (about 10 knots too fast). Accordingly I had a couple of bounces on landing. 35 minutes aloft.

A bit of a disappointing end to the flight, I still have some work to do to get back to where I was 6 weeks ago. No chance of another flight that day - a queue for the aircraft and the sky lookign threatening.

Oh well, I have paid for 5 flights, I have 4 left and if the weather cooperates, I'll get back there as soon as I can.

I'm in a state of suspended aviation

It's strange to have a gliding blog, yet not do be doing any gliding. A whole host of circumstances have stopped me from flying since I got back from Taupo and I'm tearing my hair out, worrying that I'm losing the skills I learned there.

After I got back from NZ and my solo in a week course, the weather in Sydney was woeful, with regular rain and storms. Our new kitchen was being installed, so I was kept fairly busy, but I still spent the three weeks of the rest of my holiday unable to get to Camden to fly. The plan was to drive down to Southern Cross Gliding Club and join up to continue my flying. No such luck.

Then between Christmas and New Year we travelled out west to Cootamundra to visit my mother, who had moved there from Wagga Wagga the week before. After a 4-hour drive we stopped at the information centre at Cootamundra train station, only to hear the unmistakeable sound of a towplane.

I looked up and there was a glider being towed over the town by a Pawnee! I quickly made some enquiries about the location of the gliding club (as my web searching before we left didn't reveal much chance of getting to fly while in Coota). I remembered then that the Southern Cross Club ("my" club) was having its summer flying camp at Cootamundra, and instead of being miles away as i had thought they were right here in town.

From the motel we stayed in, we could watch gliders (lots of them) on downwind and see them thermalling over the town. After visiting my Mum, I jumped in the car and went searching for the gliding club, finally finding them at the ghost-town-like Cootamundra airport.

It was the Camden guys and they had about 10 gliders there and one of the club's Pawnee tugs - but only one two-seater DG1000, which was fully booked for cross-country flights (and the weather was perfect for cross-country). I chatted for a while and the guys thought there might be a chance I could sign up and have a flight. This was an exciting prospect, because unlike Camden, where there's a 4,500 foot airspace, here it was described as "as high as you can hold your breath".

No chance of a flight today, but I brought Bibi and Ava out that evening to look at the parked up gliders and we also watched the ultralights buzzing around in the dusk, getting in wind-free flights.

The next day we drove out to see the chances for a flight. Bibi and Ava came with me and after watching gliders all the previous afternoon from the cool of the swimming pool, Bibi was a little interested in them (good wife, that). No chance of a flight that day either - the two-seater was in demand and we could see gliders overhead getting height before striking out cross-country.

More disappointment. The following day we were scheduled to drive out to Temora (about 50 kms west) to look at the town and see the aviation museum there. When we got out there we saw more gliders being prepped and got ready for flying and then I got a phone call from a club member to say I could probably get to fly (as long as the DG didn't land out) that afternoon. Only problem was we were heading home to Sydney around noon! Aargh.

So, here we are back in Sydney. I resolve to try to take Friday off and go down to Camden (the guys at Cootamundra had assured me there was a tug and an IS28 two-seater down there and my fine wife was prepaed to come down with me), but when I rang the duty pilot, he told me that of their two tugs still in Camden, one was out for an overhaul and the other was busted! So no flying that day, but try Sunday...

So today, as I post this on Sunday, the ewather is a bit iffy, but there's no answer on any of the gliding club's phone numbers, so I guess, no flying today....

Will I ever get a flight???

Day 7 – Solo!

A new instructor on duty today – Colin McGrath. I tell him my story and explain where I think I’m getting stuck and why. It’s a beautiful day today, blue, clear and hot, but it’s also a Sunday and I worry a little that it will be a busy day for public air experience flights and I might not be able to garner enough flight time to get myself over the line. It’s the last day of my week and I have to leave the next day to head home to Australia. My main instructor to date, Gordon, tells me on Saturday that if I don’t solo today, he will come out early on Monday to give me a couple of flights. It’s a great offer, but I have already accepted that I don’t have to solo in a week. If my time on the course finishes and I haven’t soloed, then I’ll simply continue my training in Australia and elsewhere, having learnt so much at Taupo. I don’t want to pressure myself, because I figure that’s when mistakes might happen – aiming for an arbitrary target and being tempted to try to solo before I’m really ready. I’m not going to fall into that trap.

There’s a slight easterly crosswind today that builds through the day to about 5-10 knots – enough to have to really take into account in working out approach speed. After pulling out the tow plane and gliders, and giving them a thorough DI, we start flying about 11.00 am.

Soon enough, club members (including some private owners) arrive to fly or tinker with their aircraft and members of the public arrive for air experience flights. The old K13, Golf Sierra, is pulled out of the hangar and prepped, so we have three two-seaters flying, as well as two of the club’s single-seat PW5s. A private owner pulls out his gloriously restored K6 as well. After a couple of circuits with Colin, I’m then kept busy fuelling the tow plane, helping with air experience flights (mainly advising front seat passengers not to put their cameras between the control column and their lap, taking their thongs and making sure canopy and brakes are locked before waving them off), as well as recording flights, retrieving gliders when they land long, towing them back to takeoff location behind cars and lots of other chores.

Not much flying time for me it seems and at one point after lunch, the tow plane’s rear tire blows after a landing. At that point I resign myself to the day’s flying being over, but a spare wheel is quickly fitted and we are back in business.

It’s a blue day, meaning no clouds to mark thermals and there’s not much consistent activity. A couple of clouds try to form over paddocks to the west, but they never really develop – too dry I guess. There are some thermals further west to be had from tows over 4,000 feet, but there’s as much sink around as lift. At one point in an air experience flight, Tom A found himself in sink of around 10 knots and thought he’d have to land out! However, he managed to find some lift and got back in business. He also took up a youngish guy who seemed keen for an aerobatics flight (he’d been given a gift voucher), but after his first loop discovered it didn’t suit him at all and wanted to come straight down!

There weren’t too many long flights being taken, there just wasn’t enough lift around. I had an interesting experience when waving off a flight, that taught me a lesson. I’d been careful and thorough in my waving off, making sure I had a good look around to spot approaching aircraft before giving the towplane the signals to take in slack and to go all-out. We were operating off runway two-two, which has a right-hand circuit. Gliders would do their downwind leg on the west side of the field. On this occasion, I had a good look around, gave the signal to take up slack, then all-out, ran the wing, and then noticed the privately-owned K6 on the end of a downwind leg on the east side of the field – doing a left-hand circuit instead of a right-hand one. There was no conflict with the glider taking off, but a couple of minutes later and he might have been on final. I make a mental note to always look more closely at all possible approaches.

Finally, late in the afternoon, when things had quietened down a bit, it’s my turn to fly again. This time, things come together nicely, though I had a nervous start when the crosswind cause a bit of weathercocking on landing. I’d been holding some rudder on final, but on the ground wasn’t quick enough to reverse it on the ground and we veered around a bit – no dramas, but a bit of a confidence shaker at first. The main complication is there’s a bit of sink on the downwind leg and I find myself having to turn to base earlier than normal. I talk Colin through my actions and tell him that because of the slight crosswind/headwind at 10 knots or so, I intend to land at 60 knots instead of the 55 knots normal for this aircraft in the still conditions.

I had been hammering into myself the need to watch the aim point on final and this starts to work as it should. I’m not getting fixated on the boundary fence and I’m more consistent. I find I can see the aimpoint moving, and keep it in the right spot with brakes and stick, while also maintaining a reasonably steady approach speed.

Colin suggests taking some higher tows to be less rushed in the circuit, which helps, though I still find I need to turn in a bit earlier than on previous days.

Finally, Colin says “you didn’t even scare me on that landing” and I know I’ve made some progress.

When Colin then says, “do one more like that and I’ll let you do one by yourself”, I find I’m not dreading the solo flight any more. I do a consistent landing and then Colin climbs out, secures the rear harness and canopy and sends me away by myself. All week I’d felt entirely unready to go solo and even that morning the thought of a solo had frightened me. But now, as I sat behind the tow plane, with no-one behind me, I felt a calm certainty that I could do this.

An amazing feeling came over me as the cable tightened and I began to be pulled along behind the towplane on that flight – the only option open to me now was to fly the plane and land it, myself. I couldn’t bail out, or decide not to go, I had to take control and do the things I’d been trained to do, with nobody to rescue me. However, I knew I could do it!

That flight is still incredibly fresh for me. The glider felt much lighter and moved around more on the tow – it was more lively and more affected by the crosswind. The tuggy wished me luck on the radio and told me when he was beginning his turn. I found the tow fine and I even had time to let out great shouts and whoops of joy and excitement. I was flying this thing by myself – I was doing what I’d come here to do!

I pulled the bung at 2600 feet, called “glider release” and made my immediate climbing turn to the right. Relieved of weight in the rear, I found I had to trim nose back to maintain 55 knots. There was quite a bit of sink on downwind and I tried to hold near 60 knots to try to lose as little height as possible, while doing my downwind checks. I was definitely going to have to turn in early. I judged my turn to base and then almost immediately to final, pulling a little brake out on base and then going to half brake on final. A perfect approach and a nice, short landing. I did it! I pop the canopy, but before I can climb out, Colin is running over with the tow rope. “Have another one” he says and before I know what’s happening, I’ve done my cockpit checks and I’m off again.

This time there’s even more sink on downwind (I release at 2,600 feet again) and I have to turn to base seemingly just past the boundary fence. This is a noticeably shallower approach because I’m lower, and I find I have to put away most of the brake to make my aiming point, going to half brake quite late in the landing. On landing, Gordon is there and tells me he didn’t like that landing too much – shallow. But I’d recognised it and done things about it – however, not having much brake out certainly limits you options.

For a third time I’m hooked up and away, and this time I tell the tuggy I want to go to 2,900 to give myself more time on downwind and take into account the effects of sink. However, after I bung off and start to make a turn towards downwind leg, I find I’m in strong lift off Fletcher’s Mill. “What the hell” I think, and start thermalling. Very soon I’m at 3,000 feet, so I turn to downwind and make a few turns to lose height. Only trouble is, where previously there’d been plenty of sink, now all I find is more lift and halfway down the downwind leg (after a couple of lazy 360s), I’m still at the same height! I actually have to use some brakes downwind to manage my height! I have more room this time turning to base leg and this is a textbook approach. Good angle, half brakes out all the way down and bang on the mark!

At this I’ve had enough for the day. I pop the canopy and climb out elated. Colin and Gordon congratulate me and I fell like I could do anything. It’s an astounding sensation, having flown a plane three times b y myself and here I am standing safe on the deck with a glider in one piece. I’ve done it.

I elect to walk the wing the 800 metres or so back to the hangars and this calms me down a bit. Trudging along I reflect on what I’ve managed and I know I can now become a glider pilot.

Back at the clubhouse, after the usual chores of putting away aircraft and locking hangars, I buy the traditional round of drinks for the bar. Being a Sunday there’s a lot of folk there, but I don’t begrudge a single drink. To my surprise, I’m presented with my A Certificate and badge, which, by completing three safe solo flights, I had qualified for! What a day – I’d known that club rules said that after first solo, the next 6 solo flights had to be preceded by a check flight, so I had expected a fairly long slog from first solo to making my A certificate – but here I’d been able to crack two achievements in the same day!

Day 6 – Seventeen circuits! And great frustration

I really monopolise the aircraft today. A perfect day for circuit bashing. Cloudy, but very stable air with little wind. After a promising start – two good circuits with pretty good landings onto zero-six, things start to go pear-shaped. I’m messing something up in the final approach and one of my landings is pretty heavy. It doesn’t help that there are a few bumps at the end of runway 06 that can punt you back into the air, or give you a shrewd thumps if you hit them early in the landing run. In any case, I was landing short then long. I couldn’t seem to get any consistency. I took a break for a couple of hours to see if I could work out what the hell I was doing wrong. This was a low point for me. Up until today, I thought I had coped with everything that was thrown at me. I had been challenged and frustrated by the aerotow, but I had been able to master it piece by piece. But this problem seemed insurmountable. The more I tried to get it, the worse my landings seemed to be (or rather, when I thought I was controlling things and working it out, I wasn’t).

I could judge my entry into the circuit, manage my speed and height through the downwind leg and identify when to turn to base leg, depending on wind and height, but at this point I was seemingly getting overwhelmed and confused. What I subsequently found I was doing was not watching the aiming point properly to judge my speed and descent. What I was doing was focusing on the boundary fence – not wanting to land on it, my eyes were drawn to that boundary fence and so I was all over the place with brakes, stick and hence speed.

To their credit, my instructors didn’t give up on me, though I nearly gave up on myself. Halfway through the day I took a break and sat on the grass trying to make sense of what was going on and feeling incredibly frustrated with myself. After the break, things didn’t get much better – the problem was consistency in the final approach and landing. Some landings would be good, others would be bad and the instructor would need to prompt me with brakes or speed.

My roundout was actually pretty good but getting there was the real problem.

That night, I slept badly and each time I thought of the next day’s flying I felt a knot almost of dread in my stomach. I questioned whether this was as far as I would get in gliding.

Day 5 – Exercises

Today I fly a circuit with instruments obscured, so needing to judge airspeed and altitude by eye and ear. For the last two days I have been trying to get familiar with the landmarks around the circuit and the look of the ground from different heights, as well as listening to the sound of the wind at around 55 knots (the speed I am flying most circuits in the conditions). My instructor “bungs me off” (his instruments of course not obscured in the rear cockpit – I’d joked with him that I’d had a good look at the instruments in the front on the ground before they were covered up, and I’d memorised them!) and I start my circuit. Afterwards, he told me that my height assessment had been good, but my airspeed was way off – thankfully on the fast side rather than the stalling-potential slow side. I came in for the landing at a blistering 85 knots, instead of the intended 55! It felt okay to me and of course the main thing is we got on the ground safely.

I also reasonably successfully boxed the tow today, getting more control over the glider in the tow. Not much flying today because of the needs of other students (including a guy who soloed with a lovely landing), so we finished with a nice social fly about in the afternoon thermals. We took a high tow, to 4,500 feet, placing us over Mount Tauhara where we hoped the mild westerly may have got the ridge working. It hadn’t to any great degree, but this was another of those flights that reminds me why I’m doing this course. It is a beautiful afternoon, about 5.00 pm, clear as a bell, with Taupo spread out beneath. We work west of the Mount Tauhara ridge and find big lift, which I work to above 5,000 feet. I spot a bright pink skydiving plane (looks like a Fletcher) losing height near Taupo airport and then the instructor spots the skydivers just off our nose. Despite his directions, I can’t see them. There’s a funny thing about spotting things in the air – one observer can see something (an aircraft or a bird for instance) as clear as day, while a second person sees nothing. Many times I’ve looked at a glider in the air, looked away for a second, and then, even when I know where it should be, not been able to pick it up again. The eye’s blind spots, and the brain’s ability to fill in the gaps the eye can’t see, are remarkable when demonstrated this way – I never saw those skydivers.

Gordon suggests, instead of circling more in this thermal, we head north east, along a well-defined cloudstreet – a little quasi cross-country style flying. As we beetle along at 50-55 knots, we have almost constant 2 knots of lift, so we end up, after several minutes of flying past the club and over to the nearby river and timber mill, several hundred feet higher than we started! We land long on runway 22 – a so-called hangar flight. After getting on the ground Gordon closes the brakes and we roll and roll towards the clubhouse and hangars. Gliders really are slippery things, with the brakes in (ie closed) they really don’t want to stop.

End of the day, only three flights and 38 minutes.