My First Solo – Leith Wittington

Newly Solo Leith pictured here in aircraft marshalling mode

Having spent the majority of my working life in and around aviation, it has proved impossible to avoid those countless tales of daring do – the ones that start: “Well, there I was, upside-down in cloud with nothing on the clock but the maker’s name....” – never thinking that I would be called upon to tell my own tale. As a consequence, I sit down to write this with the fear that I might stray inadvertently into that territory without noticing how boring such tales can be. But, anyway, here goes....

When I turned up at the airfield half-way through the morning, having completed early morning duties at my farm, I was somewhat surprised to find that I was the first to arrive. I made sure that I opened the gate quietly [thank goodness somebody has oiled the bolt] so as not to awaken the sleeping CFI in his caravan and spoil my chances of adding launches, time and sign-offs to my logbook later that day. It was not a promising day with low cloud obscuring the Church and very little in the way of wind to shift it: I had no idea how the day would turn out.

Once on the outside of the modest breakfast that appears to have become the norm on BRT Sunday’s, the assembled few started to get things moving at a conservative pace still thinking that the day would take may hours to develop. I cannot remember when I took the first launch but it was certainly at a very reasonable hour but with a cloud base of c. 800 feet . It was all quite routine until Don pulled the plug at about 400 feet.” Oh good!”, I thought, but the recovery and landing went according to plan as did the next couple of practice launch failures. No big deal save for the long walk back.

The day gradually began to improve and by lunchtime, we had a reasonable cloudbase so when it came to my turn again, I was able to demonstrate some routine circuits and all was going quite well until Don happen to mention that he was thinking that he should “get me finished off later”. Oh! Good! What could that mean? An hour or so later, I found out.

After a tidy circuit, Don stepped out and said that, if I was happy, I could go solo. Well, I thought, what have I got to lose? Was I comfortable? Was I confident that I could do it? Yes I was so, holding back one of those smiles that hurts, I accepted the offer and wandered back to the flight line to get ready.

Waiting to go. Back seat empty

Having run through the ABCD, the CBSIFTCBE, and got my smile under control, I asked for the cable. There seemed to be an endless wait for the slack to be taken up but, suddenly, I was on my way. SOLO!

The launch – a very good and uneventful launch – got me to about 1400’. I dropped the cable, trimmed the aircraft, did my lookout, and started an easy turn left noticing how different the aircraft feels without the back seat occupied. Wow! I thought, I have got here and all I need to do is get back safely. I had a bit of a stooge about just south of the clubhouse [because I could] and began to think about my height, where I was and what was left to do. I looked over my shoulder to find the airfield was still where I had left it.

With no lift or sink to speak of, I proceeded to turn for my downwind leg having descended to 800’ and headed off on a comfortably wide circuit giving myself lots of thinking time. With about 500’ on the clock and the landing area over my left shoulder I put in my diagonal leg and started a lazy final turn at about 400’. Onto final approach, checks done and with airbrake lever in hand I selected my reference point and made a nicely controlled landing [probably the best I have ever made] just where I had planned. And then I got another one of those smiles! Done it!

It all turned out to be a memorable day for me: No fanfare, no fuss. Just a routine safe flight following the drills and procedures learned – just as it should be.

And so, after getting the gliders safely back in the hangar, I made my way home to break the news to my wife. And I said to her, “well, there I was at the top of my first launch, nothing in the seat behind but the upholsterer’s name .........”. Somehow, this all passed her by as her response was simple: “That’s nice, dear. Your dinner is in the oven”.............. I really should have known better!

Leith Wittington