HGFA Skysailor Magazine

SKY SAILOR 33 July | August 2019 the greater feedback from my new wing and the ability to turn tightly to stay in the thermal. My new XCTracer vario also proved very helpful in the light lift with hardly any lag between feeling lift and the vario sounding – very useful in small thermals where half a second lag could mean falling out of the other side. All Quiet on the Western Front Rowan kept an eye on observations from weather stations out west for any changes in wind strength before these would reach us. After an hour of exploring light lift, I noticed a cu popping to the north as the wind picked up a bit which was my pre-planned cue to land. I was happy with the hour of thermalling I’d been able to get out of a ‘non flyable’ day. As I flew over the back to land, I couldn’t resist another developing cu near the farm and thermalled up for one last climb. By the time I reached cloudbase, a few more clouds had popped to the south. Two hangies were flying towards Manilla and I considered following them. If I made it to the pub, it’d be a good place to spend the rest of the day. About halfway to Manilla, the intensity of the pub suck increased. Indeed the force of pub suck has been scientifically calculated to be: While my attention had been focused towards Manilla, I hadn’t noticed the clouds building in the east. Turning in a thermal, I saw solid cloud streets as far as I could see. The pub would have to wait. I was going XC! It’s an XC Flying east over the range, I tried to intercept the thermal feeding a large cloud at the beginning of the cloud street. My vario groaned in the ever increasing sink as I neared the cloud. A thermal was close, but would I find it in time? I searched the area desperately for the core. I was quite low. A wave of relief washed over me as the low pitched growl changed to happy beeps. Turning in the thermal, I became aware of my tensed abs and bunched shoulders. Letting out the breath I’d been holding in, I reclined back in the pod and focused on staying in the strong core of the thermal. I’m sure the repeated stress caused by the thought of bombing out cannot be good for us. Paragliding is funny. When you’re down low, you desperately search for any lift. When you finally locate the invisible thermal, you try your best to stay in it. With altitude everything becomes easier. The lift is stronger, the thermals are wider and you really start enjoying it. Until it becomes too easy and you’re climbing even though you’re trying not to. I soon reached the ‘too easy’ stage. The vario was going nuts as the dark base of the cloud grew closer. I pushed the speedbar to get out from under it – 70km/h and the vario still beeped excitedly. The previously sunny day now seemed scarily overcast as my wing grew hazy, below the bottom of the dark cloud. Soon I emerged from the cloud back into sunlight and the vario calmed down. The sun’s warmth reminded me that I’d been shivering. I’d launched wearing only a shirt and vest, totally unprepared for the cold. Thankfully, I had gloves on. Most flights from Manilla tend to be to the north or west, I had no idea what lay to the east. I radioed my friends, but they were busy preparing to launch. They’d asked Godfrey for weather advice and received, “What gust front? It’s a great day to fly. You should be up there!” Cloud streets stretched eastwards over forested hills with only a few dirt tracks and vast areas with long walk outs. I considered threading through a valley to the north to avoid the hills, but I’d be leaving behind a nice cloud street and risk bombing out. If I wanted to continue the flight, I’d have to commit to flying over the forest. From here on in, I’d have to focus on the clouds and not worry about the terrain below. Confident that my adventurous friends would retrieve me from whatever remote spot I’d land in, I continued on. I needn’t have worried – the hills triggered one thermal after another, making for very easy flying for the next little while. Easy enough, in fact, that at one point I allowed myself the distraction of recording the magnificent clouds. Flying through wispies, the sky was full of billowing clouds in every direction. It’s hard to judge distance to clouds by looking at them, but by looking at their shadows on the ground I could pick out the next closest cloud and fly towards it. Stalked by an Aerial Predator Climbing in a thermal, I noticed a wedgie diving down at me. With wings tucked in and massive legs dangling underneath, a diving wedgie is an intimidating sight. A previous encounter with a foul tempered wedgie had ended with rips in my wing, so I kept him in sight, wishing I’d brought my air horn. Thankfully, it disappeared after following me for a few kilometres. Another one appeared later but also left without incident – my new wing would stay rip-free a little longer! About 40km out from launch, I was at the end of my current cloud street and two more lay ahead. One to the south, lit up by the sun, seemed more welcoming than the dark and scary one to the north. I found out later that it’s better to fly on the sunny side of cloud streets because there tends to be more lift than on the shaded side. The shadows Like mountains in the sky Looking back at the towering cloud, I was glad to be flying outside it