I Hope You Notched Your Barograph

The tow pilots reported severe low-level turbulence, very strong winds aloft...and maybe wave.

Sunday morning late in October brought indecision, as a number of us contemplated the prospects for the day's soaring at Sugarbush Soaring in northern Vermont. A high thin overcast and strong winds did not bode well for thermals and the winds aloft forecast, while certainly strong enough, did not appear to be from a favorable direction for wave or ridge.

Even if the ridges were working it would be a wild ride judging by the strong gusty wind we were feeling on the ground. What was needed was someone willing to pay for a tow to assess the situation aloft. Finally, a SGS 2-33 trainer did launch behind one of the L-19 tow planes.

In due course, the tow plane returned and we went to quiz the pilot about the conditions. As all glider pilots know, tow pilots lie a lot, which is not unreasonable considering their job is to provide tows, so their reports are always suspect. They reported severe low level turbulence, very strong winds aloft, and maybe, wave. Considering that this source is generally optimistic, the report did not send us scurrying to launch, and anyway the 2-33 would be back soon and we could get a glider pilot's view. Forty-five minutes later there was still no sight of the 2-33 which meant that they had found lift and/or had been blown down wind and forced to land somewhere else.

The latter prospect was of special interest to me as the student in the trainer was my 14 year old son, Eric, who was cashing in on one of the lessons he had earned by working on the flight line all summer. Comforting was the knowledge that the instructor was Rick Hansen, one of the most competent pilots I know.

The 2-33 did eventually return overhead and made an approach and landing which demonstrated to everyone watching the strength of the winds, as its progress upwind was almost nothing.

The glider's report was a good news/bad news mix. The bad being the turbulence and strong winds but far outweighing this was the good news of strong wave down to fairly low altitudes (1,500 feet above the field). For some of us the day could no longer be denied and we prepared to have a try at these forceful conditions. Glider assembly, tow to the flight line, stow personal gear, positive control check, pre-launch check list, thumbs up, wag the rudder, and I was off behind a few others. The tow pilot told me over the radio that things would be rough up to 1,500 feet AGL and true to his prediction, I was working the spoilers frequently trying to avoid the less than graceful maneuver of passing the tow plane while still connected. Also true to his word at 3,000 feet MSL (1,600 feet AGL, all further altitudes references will be MSL as displayed on my altimeter) things quieted down remarkably. I towed in weak lift for another 500 feet to give myself some playing room and pulled the yellow release knob at 3,500 feet. My variometers indicated one to two knots of lift in pretty smooth air just east of the airport. This certainly felt like wave and from prior experiences I felt that it must have been a secondary harmonic considering how far from the west ridge I was.

Flying into the wind and cautiously snaking side to side, I maintained my position over the ground and gained another 1,000 feet. With a comfortable cushion of altitude I then proceeded to explore further up and downwind and side to side in order to find the strongest lift.

Things were definitely better as I moved north and I noticed Harvey Howell (RC) struggling below me in the weaker lift to the south. I called him suggesting that he try moving north and then tended to my flying.

Within 10 minutes Harvey reported in north of my position and 1,000 feet above me. After flying together for awhile, Harvey and I reached about 10,000 feet and were conversing as to the prospect of an even stronger primary wave closer to the ridge. Fortunately for me, Harvey decided to go exploring for this primary as I held my position to see how he fared. His radio call reported that he had down all the way to the ridge in heavy sink loosing about 6,000 feet of altitude and was currently indicating seven knots down. Apparently the wave I was in, which would normally have been a secondary, today was the primary and there I stayed.

Prior to his ill fated penetration to the west, Harvey had called the Sugarbush Soaring office on Unicom. He reported that the conditions we were experiencing might make it a good day for high altitudes and asked that they try to get Boston Center to open the wave windows to allow flights above 18,000 feet. I had lost Harvey as a companion in the wave but Andre (DB), who was down from Montreal for the weekend, was starting to come up below me and we traded pleasantries.

The lift varied from zero to plus four knots as I moved around trying to keep in the best spot, which seemed to be a rectangle about one mile in the windward direction and two miles crosswind.

One thing you notice as the altimeter winds up is that it becomes more difficult to determine and hold your position over a fixed point on the ground. At low altitudes the blind spot directly under you is fairly small but it can cover quite a bit of territory as you ascend. Passing through 12,500 feet, I took note of the time because I would have to start using oxygen in 30 minutes or at 14,000 feet, whichever came first. As it turned out, I was able to center the lift pretty well and was at 14,000 feet and on oxygen long before the 30 minutes were up.

The temperature on the ground at launch was about 40 degrees F. but as expected, the outside temperature indicator on my instrument panel was indicating well below freezing at this altitude. The cockpit was reasonably warm however thanks to a strong sun and the greenhouse effect of the full length canopy on my DG-300.

Accompanying the dropping temperatures were increasing winds. I no longer has to S-turn back and forth to avoid penetrating upwind and in fact if I wasn't careful I would slide downwind and have to put the nose down and increase airspeed to get back in the good lift area. While I initially flew at minimum sink speed of 42 knots I was now flying 45-47 knots IAS to hold position.

Passing through 16,000 feet I called Sugarbush Unicom to see how they were making out with Boston Center. They replied that they were working on it and within a few minutes officially announced that Sugarbush wave windows Alpha and Bravo were open allowing flight to 22,000 feet with the only restrictions being the boundaries of the windows and the requirement to monitor the usual air to air frequency of 123.3. Andre in DB indicated that he was not intending to go high today which left me the only glider currently in a position to make use of the FAA's accommodation of powerless flight in the domain normally reserved for the fast heavies.

What should my goal be? I'd been high before; 21,500 feet last year. I'd heard the war stories about damage to gel coats caused by the extreme low temperatures associated with high altitudes although I didn't seem to suffer any damage from last year's flight even when I had to descend rapidly due to approaching darkness. This time it was early in the day and I could descend slowly hopefully minimizing thermal shock. Lastly, wave flying can be really quite boring, especially compared to scratching around a few hundred feet over marginally landable terrain desperately trying to keep the flight alive as I had done a number of times in the last few weeks. Well, sometimes boring is not so bad and the view couldn't be beat. Unrestricted visibility to Lake Champlain and the Adirondacks on the far shore were not too hard to take and if I ever dared to turn downwind and risk loosing my position in the wave I would be treated to a similar view of the White Mountains in New Hampshire. The decision -- keep at it and see if I could beat my previous best altitude.

Maintaining position in the wave by reference to the ground was no longer practical and my technique was to slowly maneuver in various directions and watch the variometers, keep going if the lift was increasing and turn back if the lift decreased. This technique is certainly not perfect and I spent 30 minutes without any altitude gain as I struggled to re-find "the spot."

About the time I finally was breaking through 18,000 feet into that mystical Class A airspace, I started hearing Ron Webster (2HI) talking to others and looking for the wave after releasing from tow. I offered Ron encouragement but unfortunately little other useful information because even if I could figure out where I was over the ground that location might not be appropriate for his lower altitude. I also heard Mike McCaron (MC) on the radio flying at Saratoga Springs and couldn't resist giving him a call and letting him know that the ship which I had bought from him a little over a year ago was above Flight Level 180 and still going up. Mike muttered something about being spoiled because of flying at Sugarbush and wished me luck.

Outside air temperature continued to drop and frost was accumulating on the inside rear of the canopy near my head. The cockpit temperature was still comfortable however even without gloves and only a sun hat.

The boredom of wave flying in the perfectly smooth laminar air was countered by continually trying to find stronger lift and frequently checking my oxygen system for proper operation. Somewhere around 21,000 feet, I got a call from Dave Ellis (C4) asking how I was doing and he became quite excited when I told him where I was. Dave has been one of my more ardent supporters during my two year soaring career, even to the extent of coming to fetch me after my first off-field landing earlier in the summer. Dave, ever the mentor, said he hoped I was sure to have notched my barograph so I could apply for my diamond altitude award which I had already earned by climbing more than 5,000 meters off of tow. Alas, no official recognition was to be had as my reply had to be "What barograph?"

It became apparent that Ron Webster was making very rapid progress in the upward direction as he was already in the mid-teens and asking me about the details of the FAA clearance and the windows. I attributed Ron's success to superior skill achieved during his long soaring career but later wondered if the fact that he had GPS on-board and could easily hold his position within a few meters accuracy might of had something to do with it. Anyway, I reached the top of the window at 22,000 feet and decided to wait for Ron who would apparently join me shortly. The cold was starting to get to me and I noticed that the outside temperature was -18 degrees C. I also observed that I had to fly 50 to 55 knots IAS to hold my position into the wind. Ron joined me at 22,000 feet and we spent a few anxious minutes finding each other as we were both reporting the same position and altitude but had not established visual contact, a mid-air was not the way to celebrate the top of the climb.

After finally spotting each other no more than a 1/4 mile apart we agreed to go touring as we descended and turned north toward Mount Mansfield. To fly a northward track required about a 60 degree crab angle and increased airspeed into the 70 to 80 knot range. We thus flew or more appropriately slid sideways to Route 89 where we had to turn back because we were still above 18,000 feet and the Bravo window ends there.

Almost back to the Sugarbush Valley we dropped below Class A airspace and were free to roam unrestricted which we did this time sliding southerly eventually reaching Killington Ski area. Ron and I then parted company as I headed back to Sugarbush flying in sink much of the way and consequently using up most of my remaining altitude.

The final descent to pattern altitude reintroduced me to the turbulence associated with the wave rotor and lower altitudes. The pattern, right down to the ground was a wild ride fortunately ending in a good touchdown and roll out.

Thus ended my second flight to diamond altitudes with nothing official to show for it. Disappointed? Not really. My enjoyment in soaring is mostly in doing it and that experience will be with me forever. Also while a high altitude flight may be spectacular to many, it is by no means the most challenging or rewarding flight I've had, but those are other stories.

And lastly, as the saying goes, a flight of over three hours duration reaching 22,000 feet still beats a day in the office.

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