First off, yesterday was a personal best, 11th place, 850pts, first in DHV2 class (I have a little pin to and certificate for 2 ice-cram cones to prove it :-)
Yesterday's flight safely put me in the top half (36th of 110) so unless I really mess up I should at least hit that goal.
Today was another day that threatened to over-develop, and with strong north winds predicted, we had to stay in the close-by valley systems, pushing out north would have put us in a bunch of rotor and probably a bunch of us into trees.
The task committee called a challenging cats-cradle with two long (15km+) upwind legs.
They also did something I've never seen before—they called a turn-point before the start. Which means you could hit the first turn-point anytime, but you had to hit the second (the 'start') after start time.
I thought this pretty much penalized the people at the end of the launch order since people at the front could go get the point at their convenience before the start-time.
But they do have the open-launch period at the beginning of the window, so I queued up and got off right after the window opened.
Today it was a lot easier to get high and away from launch. And the sky cooperated, forming a nice cummie-cell over the first turn-point.
A bunch of us went there early and played in cloud-suck, just below base (about 2000m msl). One guy flew right to the middle of the cloud and disappeared. He was seen 20 minutes later spiraling out of the cloud (in the middle of the field...). Seems he managed to get sucked up to over 4000m—unbelievable given how low base was.
Word is he flew back to the main LZ and landed shivering—not just from the cold.
The rest of us stayed safely out of the cloud and cruised a cloud-street toward start.
Under the last cloud in the street, before a blue hole that contained the start, I noted that start-time was still 15 minutes away and did something I almost never do... I exercised patience.
Rather than barrel out into the sink (like most of the field), I stayed under the cloud until 4 minutes before start, exiting a little over base (thanks to some edge-surfing). I hit the start higher than most and exactly on time. My best start yet.
I glided full speed from there to the next turn-point, hit it, looked ahead and saw... NO ONE. I was leading the pack. There was no lead gaggle, just me... Wow.
I came in low to a ridge where I hoped to get up, caught a stunning screamer, fastest of my life (1800fpm sustained) and hit base in no time. Amazingly, the thermal was soft, smooth, and silent.
A turn or two into the thermal my MP3 player randomly selected "Surfing on a Rocket"—really, no bull-pucky (that's for you, Len). Click here to listen
At base I excited the thermal and was briefly still in the lead until Semih, a Turkish pilot on a custom Boomerang 4, decided he should be in the lead. Now I'm starting to understand what gets people into comp gliders and pod-harnesses. We were on different lines but it didn't matter which way I went, he just blazed by.
Well, the magical beginning was over and now came the scary part.
At this point we were pushing into a serious head-wind (I was making about 15kph on 3/4 speed-bar). We were trying to push west over to a ridge system called 'Clear Spot' that has worked well this week.
But first we had to pass over a small peak formed by 3 ridges coming together—and we were coming into the lee.
Everyone know what happens in the lee on a windy day? Can we all say "rotor"??
This was one of the times in a comp where I tell myself "I would _never_ do this on a normal flight." I also reminded myself that there was a rescue squad and that eucalyptus look softer than pine...
In other words I was doing something really stupid for which I would not hesitate to scream at a student.
Well, the lee worked, sorta. First it flushed me almost to ridge level from base. Then it played origami with my wing ("Is that a crane! Wow!"), then it gave me a boomer of a messed up ride.
It was too much for me. I watched as a local on an Avax RSF comp glider rode the bucking bronco out of the lee as I ran, pants a bit brown, for the windward side of the ridge.
Problem is I wasn't going to make it.
That's when I made my second "never, ever do this" move. There were two Boom4's low over the small peak formed by the ridges. They were scratching low and nasty but I could tell the weren't going down. How? Because the gliders weren't wrapped around a tree, which is where they would be without the 10m or so separating them.
So, I dove further upwind, dropping like a stone, right at the Boomers.
I told myself I could chicken out, run downwind, and probably miss the trees, but I was committed. If I didn't get lift I was very likely going to be a Christmas ornament.
Luckily (phew) the Boomers started climbing for real just before I arrived and we all made it back to base.
Now we had just over 10km left of the upwind leg and I was clearly 2 or 3 gaggles behind the lead (oh glory, how fleeting). The other gliders (we were eventually 5) cut right to follow a ridge line, but I liked the sun and the clouds to the left.
Yup, I made my own decision again and headed off alone, but this time my line was good and I rejoined the others in some nice lift just before the turn-point and a bit higher.
I circled just a few, tagged the point, and followed a nice street downwind to the next (3rd to last) turn-point.
I picked my own line again, using the valley and cloud street ("never works" according to the locals). It worked well and at the next turn-point I had made up a good deal of time, passing at least 10 gliders.
From here it was the same final turn-point and goal as yesterday and I figured I'd try the valley again, as it had worked so well earlier today and yesterday.
This time I drifted a bit to the right of the valley, and the gaggle that had been ahead went left. Left was more direct, but right had clouds and I was able to surf along without losing much altitude... about half way.
Then the clouds gave out and I fixed a straight death-glide course to the final turn-point.
I decided to race—I was behind the lead gaggle, but ahead of the second gaggle and I thought I had the height. Plus there was a DHV2 in the second gaggle and if I beat him I would win the DHV2 class two days running.
About 500m out of the final turn-point I realized I wasn't going to make the point and then goal (2km away from the point). <Len Warning>SHIT!!</Len Warning>
As I turned back to work some lift I saw Brian Webb cruise under me in his damn Avax RSF. Maybe he had it with his glide, but I didn't.
I went back and joined the second gaggle, annoyed that I had lost my jump, but pleased to see that the DHV2 glider (Phil Haystek on a white-orange Zoom Race, just like mine), had dropped behind. I could still win my class.
Knowing that I was now behind the second gaggle (they were higher and would be leaving first), I took my time, making sure I had plenty of height.
Gliding to the turn-point I got nothing but lift. <Len Warning>FUCK!!</Len Warning>. I could have made it. Brian had also found the lift and made it safely to goal.
That's ok I thought, trailing the 3 gliders of the 2nd gaggle, at least I have DHV2 class.
Than, full speed, straight line to the goal cylinder, I looked down to see, out of nowhere, a Sigma6 (DHV2 from Advance) inching ahead of me!!!
He was lower, deeper into the valley wind, and getting pushed hard.
By my judgement, I made it into goal no more than a SECOND after James on his Sigma6.
Ah well, it was still an amazing day filled with firsts:
- First time clearly in the lead
- First 1800fpm thermal
- First self-inflicted near-treeing
- First 3-times-to-goal in a comp!
I think I was top-15 again. Semih, who just screamed the whole day, came in first.
BTW: Len asked why no photos. The honest answer—the air has been scaring the crap out of me and the camera has stayed firmly in its pouch!
If I don't get any shots tomorrow or Saturday, I'll get some at the party!
