Glider pilots discovered thermals in the 1930’s, and much of the current theory of soaring flight has been well understood since the 1950’s. A vast body of “skylore” languishes in out-of-print books, back issues of flying magazines, and the minds of old timers.
I’ve spent countless (unflyable!) hours digging out scraps of this knowledge on the internet. The articles linked here are the best I’ve found.
XC flying conditions in northern England this spring have been unusually good; what’s more—the best days have fallen on the weekends, which—after a poor 2007 and 2008—proves the adage: “Be it fair or be it wet, the weather always pays its debt”.
AWESOME. Full-on spring thermals and wind today at Pule. Straight-lining it and going up at over 5m/s on the averager, I ended up over Standedge—2Km upwind—on full bar, desperately trying to stay below the 3000ft base of Manchester CTA.
Autumn leaves are falling and I’ve got the blues. Flying-wise, 2008 was my best summer of the past 17. I achieved my long-term goal of 50 miles with a 100K flight. The success was due to my work shift finishing at lunchtime on a significant proportion of the few good XC days. Continue Reading »
August 2008 was the dullest since 1929. An improvement finally came in the second half of September. I enjoyed the dog ends of the summer thermals at Nont Sarahs on Thursday 18th and at Hawkswick on Saturday 20th.
Stepping up to a higher performance glider or switching to a race harness could earn you a better glide ratio by 0.5 point. But what does this actually mean in terms of flying cross-country in the UK? I decided to investigate the theoretical answer with a few “back of the envelope” calculations. And I discovered that—on the average glide in the UK—a 0.5 pt inferior glide ratio will cost you only one circle in the next thermal.
The best (and the most frustrating) thing about flying XC in the UK is the constant challenge of the rapidly changing weather. On Saturday 23 August, a transient ridge of high pressure presented a narrow window of opportunity between weather systems. With bad air downwind to the east and a front approaching rapidly from the west, I was delighted to get another 50K out of the day.
Photo of me thanks to Mike Miller
After this latest flight, I felt like I’d just won a bronze at the Olympics. Chuffed to have gotten something out of the day, but a tad disappointed not to have pushed a bit further.
The Czech Republic might not the first place that you’d associate with the term “paragliding mecca”. But the facts are: 275 Km flown this May, 309Km over in Poland and some world-class manufacturers. And the interest extends beyond paragliding: Czech has produced writers like Kundera and Kafka, and Leo’s 3 year old Czech “girlfriend” from the UK was also on holiday there. We’d never been before, so we just had to take a look.
I saw Roger Federer on the TV the other day, explaining what it felt like to win his first Grand Slam. “Overwhelming relief. It doesn’t matter what else you do in your life, you’ve won a Slam”. Those words echoed my sentiments after I achieved my first 100 Km flight on a paraglider in the UK. Granted that 100K on a paraglider is a piddling feat compared to a tennis Grand Slam, but it’s all relative. Just as many tennis players never win a Slam, so many pilots never fly 100K.
After nearly 20 years of trying, I finally got to the right hill on the right day at the right time and in the right frame of mind. On Friday 4th July 2008, I took off from Eyam Edge in Derbyshire shortly after 1pm and flew a distance of 108.5 Km via a turnpoint to land 4 1/2 hours later near Ripon, North Yorkshire, 98.8 Km away from take-off (OK, 1.2K short of an “old-fashioned” ton, but I’m no pedant).
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