This weekend was another fun one! It was ‘my’ day for the Kestrel on Saturday, and I thought that I would try a small cross-country flight. The weather forecast wasn’t all that great, predicting showers by early-to-mid afternoon, so I decided not to go too far. My hubby suggested Pontefract – Pocklington might be a good one – at least I’d be in range of a few airfields if I got caught out by the showers.
It was very soarable when I took off, and I immediately climbed to cloud-base. It looked good down towards Pontefract, so I set off straight away. The clouds took me in the direction of York to start with, which was good, because that would give me the ability to land at Linton-on-Ouse or Rufforth if it started to rain. Around Easingwold, I noticed the club’s Discus below me, turning in what was apparently a thermal. I went to see… but found nothing there, so I just kept the wings level and carried on. The Discus pilot (possibly up-and-coming pilot Mark Newburn) might have been slightly miffed… I remember when I was new to cross-country, and I’d be climbing in a weak thermal, and then a ‘big-wing’ would just cruise straight over the top of me, and not stop to climb! But I suppose that’s what a bit of XC experience gives you.
I carried on towards York, finding lift under most of the clouds, but not stopping under many as I was managing to stay high. The air I was flying through was favourable, with the Oudie reporting an average L/D of 65:1 at 60 knots.
As I approached Rufforth, I noticed that a big blue hole was forming out to the south-west; right where I was intending to go, and with Pontefract in the middle. I had enough height to get there, but I wouldn’t have enough height to glide back from the turning-point without finding another climb. I hung about for a few minutes, trying to see if anything was forming in the middle of the blue hole. Nothing was happening.
Meanwhile, the clouds to the north and east were looking darker and thicker by the minute. I decided to abandon Pontefract and head towards Pocklington, where the clouds still looked good. There was some good lift on the way, but as I got towards Pock, the showers started. Climbing at Pock, the rain started to hit the glider, but there was still good lift to be had on the edge of the showers, so I decided that discretion was the better part of valour – I really didn’t need a field landing today – and turned for home. Now there were several showers in the 40Km between me at Sutton Bank, and I was flying almost directly into wind, so progress felt really slow. I headed towards the upwind edge of the showers standing between me and Sutton Bank, and found quite reliable, strong lift there each time. In fact, when I levelled the wings near the top of each climb, I found the lift was so strong that I was being sucked into the bottom of the cloud. I had to fly fast (90 knots+) to avoid being enveloped… I was still going up at 4 knots, even at that speed!
20 Km away from SUT. The showers don’t look too bad here… but they got worse!
I took one last climb near Stillington to 4,200 feet, with 15Km to go, into wind, and with several lines of showers directly on track. As soon as I levelled the wings and flew north, the glider started to get wet. I’ve been told that Kestrels do not fly well in the rain, so I decided to fly fast, knowing that I had plenty of height, so as to spend less time in the worst of the rain and the sink. Sutton Bank was sitting at a good angle, and I was confident that I’d get in. However, the shower soon had its effect, and we began to lose height rapidly. Flying through sink of 4 – 6 knots, at 80 – 85 knots in the Kestrel, we were sinking like a brick. Sutton Bank began to rise up the canopy, and the glide angle looked less good. But I still believed I would make it… just. At 8 Km out, I called the club to let them know that I was approaching from the south at high speed. At 5 Km out, I was beginning to wonder if I’d make it! At 3km out, I’d left the last shower behind and slowed down. I now knew I’d make it, but I didn’t have any height remaining for a circuit. I’d have to go straight onto approach and land. I checked the circuit and landing areas were clear, then called the club to let them know my intentions. Very shortly after, the glider rolled to a halt, safe on the ground. Phew!
Well that was intense, and exciting! It just goes to show how – in unstable weather conditions – you can very quickly go from having a nice time in sunny skies, to having to fly through rain to get home safely. But that’s gliding! And that’s another reason why I love it!
The Secret Life of a Glider Pilot 