A few years ago, fairly soon after I had started gliding, someone gave me a
book entitled ‘Kronfeld on Gliding and Soaring; the story of Motorless Flight’,
tracing the earliest history of gliding, and following Robert Kronfeld’s own
experiences with gliders up until the 1930’s. A fascinating book, and one which
vividly conveyed the novelty, wonder and excitement of the early years.
One expression in particular has always stayed with me, being quaint and very
1930’s. After having spent the day at Itford Hill in England, demonstrating to
the British Director of Civil Aviation the ability of a glider to soar a slope,
and with the watching public starting to go home, Kronfeld asked Mr. Gordon
England, the organiser, whether I could go wandering.
“Going wandering; donning hat and coat, putting dog on lead, and yelling over
shoulder to wife “I won’t be there for lunch, see you when I manage to make it
back!”
OR:- ‘Going wandering; pointing glider somewhere different, yelling to
retrieve crew “Going to try to make Newbury and back, might be late for the
BBQ!”
Kind of an open ticket to an unpredictable adventure!
The first ICL weekend at Upavon went unexpectedly well; DGS, a club without much
previous involvement in the ICL, got points on the board, had some good flights
and contributed to a thoroughly enjoyable weekend.
The second at Keevil fell victim to the British weather, and so the last ICL
event for 2016 was at the Park; as it turned out the team would be the same as
before, Roger Green Pundit, Richard Roberts Intermediate and Roger Appleboom
Novice. Richard Roberts, impeccable General that he is, got there first -
camping on Friday night on what appeared to be a 30 degree slope. The ground
crew, Adrian Irwin and Leith Whittington also pitched up on Friday, Leith having
pinched his wife’s camper van for the weekend and Adrian having booked in at a
luxury B&B befitting his status as ex RAF. I turned up early on Saturday
morning, K6 in tow.
The first disaster of the weekend was a call from Roger Green, our Pundit,
saying he couldn’t make it because of glider problems; ouch - points scoring
chances down 33%! The weather was also doing no-one any favours, with early
forecasts looking slightly optimistic. After the 10 o’clock briefing club flying
commenced, but no-one was staying up even into the late morning. There is
something forlorn about glider pilots standing by rigged and ready gliders, one
eye on the sky and the other on the relentlessly ticking clock.
With a 170km
task - the Park, Trowbridge, Newbury South, Bradford-on-Avon, the Park - the
last two legs into wind and soaring conditions only reasonable to the east, we
needed to get away by 2 o’clock. Richard was one of the first to make the
decision to take an aerotow to 3000ft and use the height to break clear of the
Deverills. Decision made, there followed a mad dash to get on to the aerotow
line and get away; Richard at 1.30p.m., me at 2.10p.m. No time for any
consideration about getting back, just a vague plan to go north until
Trowbridge, turn right, go east towards Newbury, and if I got there turn around
and come back again; pretty good plan for those of a wandering nature.
|
Conditions here look good |
I released from the aerotow at 2,500ft, pointed directly north keeping left
of urban blob 1, Warminster, and left of urban blob 2, Westbury, arriving over
Trowbridge at a slightly lower height than was comfortable. Instead of turning
immediately I continued north to a promising cloud where there was hoped-for
lift, and at a respectable 3000ft, cloud base, I finally nosed east, following
the Kennet and Avon canal; and following, it would seem, an interesting line of
sink which I told myself would eventually end if I held my nerve and kept going.
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The view from the office window over Northend |
There is, south of Melksham, probably at Berryfield, an industrial estate on
which there is a large factory with a steel roof - Avon Rubber plc. I had set
the altimeter to QFE at the Park, so the 300ft it showed as I approached the
factory didn’t reflect my true height above the ground, but it did confirm that
I was in a spot of bother. There was, however, a large field adjacent to the
factory so, with the prospect of lift, no matter how meagre, from the roof
gleaming in the sun, and with a get out of jail card next door, I felt I had
another throw of the dice. Sure enough there was enough rising air to arrest the
glider’s descent. Thermalling in weak lift, I noticed a flock of seagulls over a
smaller factory to the north, adjusted the angle of bank to join them, and got
into strong lift that funnelled us all to over 3000ft; reprieve - clever birds!
Google Earth shows ‘G Plan Upholstery and Sofa Brand International’ are housed
in the factory - hot stuff.
The flight eastwards from Melksham was fairly predictable, flying from cloud
to cloud, long glides between good areas of lift, with the wind drifting us
eastwards whilst thermalling.
Newbury appeared about where it should have been, the turn point (or what I
thought was the turn point!) was reached, a nearby cloud was used to top up with
a bit of height, and with 2,500ft showing I turned west and headed for home -
not doubting I would complete the task.
|
Near Basingstoke |
Now the reality check!
Against the wind, thermalling was drifting the glider backwards, and a few
hundred feet gained was lost getting back to the start of the weak lift. Limping
from one potential land-out field to the next I was sure all other gliders were
back home, pilots enjoying a beer, waiting for the BBQ to be lit. Rivar Hill Gliding
site appeared on the ridge to my left, gliders still winching….. and I was below
their release height - an impromptu visit was tempting but I plodded on. A few
minutes, and several hundred lost feet later, the gliding site looked
increasingly attractive. Decision made; the approach, I had noticed, was grass
field sloping upwards, fence, track, fence, crop, line of trees, airfield;
OPTIONS! I doubled back, turned south towards the airfield, height marginal,
gliding site partially hidden by the trees wasn’t good, crop looked high, grass
field in front seemed fine, this was a no brainer. I landed uphill towards the
top of the field. The landing was fine, K6 unscathed, prospects for the BBQ less
so; and I thought I was going to get back this time!
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Safely in yet another field |
For a time things seemed to take a turn for the worse after such a gentle
touch-down. It was discovered that the gates were locked, with ‘Beware of the
Bull’ signs displayed to discourage trespassers, the track was a bridleway -
rough, unmetalled, impassable to a motor car let alone a low-slung glider
trailer. There was no phone signal and when I did get through to the club, found
that Adrian, my retrieve, had never towed before. A long unstable trailer behind
an antiquated Renault van through Wiltshire’s single track lanes was probably
not the best way to learn. Worse still, I was assured by the members of of Rivar Hill Gliding Club that the farmer who owned the field was of the unsympathetic kind
who chewed pilots’ heads off and displayed them around the farm to discourage
other unwanted intrusions: “Good luck” they said when furnishing me with his
name and address.
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The "road" access to the field |
Mere setbacks, hurdles to be straddled, adding to the memories of a
gloriously fascinating day!
And so to the credits, the obvious conclusion to any good story…….
To Richard Roberts, for organising DGS participation, helping, encouraging
and nurturing the crew, and generally leading by excellent example.
To the ground retrieve crew, Adrian Irwin and Leith Whittington for their
help in rigging and retrieving, and their constant good-natured banter which
made the weekend so special.
To the Bath, Wilts and North Dorset Gliding Club for hosting the event, and
welcoming visiting pilots with such generosity of spirit.
To farmer Hosier - not the expected ogre but a real gentleman, for
interrupting his supper to drive up and unlock the gate.
To Brangwy, a 55 year old glider who glossed over the deficiencies of her
pilot, so the two could enjoy the pleasures of meandering over the Wiltshire
countryside.
And of course, to a family of seagulls who got me out of the poo by marking a
thermal over Melksham; Never again will I ponder the delights of Herring Gull
pie.
It was a cross-country flight more ‘Kronfeld’ than ‘Eckey’, but
then,wandering is merely a frame of mind; roll on next year’s ICL.
Roger Appleboom