HGFA Skysailor Magazine

16 SKY SAILOR January | February 2019 S aturday sees a front moving in from the Bight and a fun day out on the water kitesurfing the western beaches of Port Philip Bay. Sunday shows a high pressure system moving in, and therefore the best chance for a flight, and whilst there is still a reasonable amount of energy predicted, the shelter of the Australian Alps should slow this enough for a decent hour or two around midday. Pack the van and head to Bright on the scent of some airtime. Arrive Saturday night in time for weekend fireworks and a good night’s sleep. Sunday morning the conditions are promising, so we head up the hill. Fifty or so pilots have had the same idea and there is a great ambience, as free fliers gear up and run off launch. We say a quick ‘Hello’, as we do the same. Mystic is putting on a show with her dependable house thermals Marcus and Emily. We climb out in a colourful array of gaggling pilots, only to reach the expected ceiling height of 1300m, associated with stable high pressure conditions. Thermals are bending to the south-east and pilots are repeatedly drifting back before punching forward and climbing again. After an hour or so, the conditions get a little rougher and most pilots leave to land. Meanwhile, a few of the locals head off across the valley. The front of the hill lulls, so I decide to drift back in a reasonable climb to see if there is a second shelf being fed by a stored sunny lee-side release. Sure enough, a few exploratory turns land me in an incredibly tight, punchy climb over the back of launch. Finally, I think to myself, this one has the potential to go through the stability layer and get somewhere. Half a dozen turns later, I find myself in conditions that are none short of violent, a climb so tight I’m virtually stood up on my wing tip trying not to spin, in what feels like a spiral dive that is fast approaching an 8m/s climb rate. Very sharp and very powerful. I brace and put on my brave face as I work tirelessly to stay away from the thermal’s edge. My beloved Sigma is starting to whistle as the relative winds build and the G-forces rise. A few more turns, and some very unwelcome movements are introduced, as the lee-fed thermal consolidates with other branches. At about twice the height of the hill, I decide I’ve pushed my luck and reluctantly plan to exit and punch forwards again into calmer waters. Judging the beat, I choose my exit and slice out the side for a quick getaway, or so I hope. There is an immediate calm that feels eerie and out of place, rather unnerving. Then, sure enough, Bam! I’m yanked so hard towards my wing that… At this point, time slows down, in what would seem to be a real life documentary. I feel the weightlessness of my body – a rather comfortable sensation after all those Gs – dissipate for a moment. I have thoughts going through my head that surprise me no end. ‘Hmm, my lines look like spaghetti and the top of my wing is facingme. I wonder if they’re still my favourite colours and if I bought this wing again, what colours would I choose?’ That thought passes as the wing disappears out of view. My mind turns to the lack of feedback in my brakes and risers. The peaceful calm before the storm! All to soon, I’m met with a godawful reconnect as my lines tighten and my wing prances in front of me like an overzealous waiter that has had too many coffees behind the bar. “Hi, I’m Frontal, welcome to trouble town. Today we’re going to start you off with a 70% cravatte coupled with a 30% speed wing, a touch of spin and a hint of building twist. Can I get you anything to drink whilst you come to terms with that?” Thanks, I’ll just have water please… First things first. Focus kicks in like an adrenaline shot and a lifetime of reflexes take over. A rather calm thought process begins, like a mind map on butcher’s paper. A discussion commences, as I become a passenger in my own body. Okay, situation less than perfect…What are the priorities? How long do I have? What are the dangers? What are the options? Reserve is at the ready, handle is at my right cheek, but is it required yet and how will that end? The hill is a good 600m below me and upwind. My drift is into the valley floor. Let’s divvy up the time, set a portion to resolve and establish a cut off by which it’s time to dry the washing. Keep body aligned to the flying portion of the wing, regardless of horizon. Assess input options and effects. Can we rebuild stable flight? No, situation is unacceptable, time for a reset. A much anticipated four-day long weekend, thanks to some horses running in circles. The weather forecast is ominous and difficult to predict. An arsenal of sporting activities is lined up ready for whatever the conditions may be. by Simon Chopping It’s Not How You F*# It, It’s How You Fix It Photos: Vit Peyr