I’ve just logged in to my blog and am amazed at the stats. You lot must have nothing better to do at the moment, judging by the number of views of my blog! But thanks for reading 😉
I was just recounting the story of an outlanding I made years ago to a friend, when it occurred to me that glider pilots seems to end up in some very funny situations. Most glider pilots will have listened to takes from other pilots of daring-do, usually to do with an outlanding! I have my share of those tales.
Because it’s Winter, nearly Christmas, and we’re all bored, here’s one such tale from my collection.
Several years ago (when I was still young) I took part in the Junior Nationals out of Lasham. I’d never flown in the south, in such a busy area of airspace, and I was finding the whole experience quite daunting. I hadn’t done many ‘long’ cross-country flights either, so one day, when we were sent on a 300Km flight around some of the busiest airspace in the UK, I was more than a little nervous.
The flight itself wasn’t too bad, but due to my lack of experience, was ‘slower than the second coming of Christ’ (an expression borrowed from fellow pilot Andy Wright). I was still flying 6 hours after take-off. And it was only a 300Km task.
I rounded the last turn point in the task with a feeling of desperation. I wasn’t far from Lasham, only about 30Km, but I had been flying for a long time and I was getting desperate for the loo. Those women who’ve been in a similar situation will know that having a full bladder becomes extremely distracting. You begin to feel EVERY little bump of the air, and it becomes almost impossible to concentrate on flying.
I realised that I had to land, there was no choice, other than to wet myself and ruin my parachute (which was the type that you sit on). Parachutes are expensive and I wasn’t going to do that!. I picked a massive field, which had a Tumulus (an ancient burial mound) with long grass and bushes in the middle of it. I landed in the middle of the field, aiming to stop near the Tumulus. Before the glider even stopped, I was unstrapping, throwing off my parachute, and opening the canopy. I jumped out and ran towards the mound, unzipped my trousers… and oh… the relief!
Needs met, I returned to my glider and rang my hubby to let him know where I was. I also went to the farm, which turned out to be a 6-figure horse-training stable. None of the staff seemed to speak English, and there was no-one in at the farm. I started walking up the road towards the village I’d seen before landing, as I didn’t think Chris would find my field on his own.
I met a woman walking her dog, who told me that the village was about two miles up the road, so off I went. The road seemed never ending, and I was beginning to doubt that I’d get there before Chris drove through. Several cars drove past me without stopping. Just as I was starting to despair, a car came up behind me and pipped its horn. I turned to look, and a friendly-looking man was waving at me. He offered me a lift to the village… and trusting naive little me took it. I felt instinctively that I could trust him.
I jumped in to his car, and we drove off up the lane. As we drove, he said he’d seen me land. I asked where he’d been, and he said he’d been bird-watching in a hide at the side of the field.
Luckily, at that moment, we reached the village and he dropped me off. I said goodbye then waited until he disappeared out of sight before collapsing onto the verge in a fit of embarrassed laughter. He must have seen the whole thing… the landing, the Tumulus… etc.
I guess when he went bird-watching that day in Hampshire, he got more bird than he bargained for!
Sometimes I’m so glad there are people you’ll never ever meet again.
The Secret Life of a Glider Pilot 