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On 14th December 1990 Marlborough Gliding
Club member Ray Lynskey flying his Nimbus 2 Golf Lima Alpha became the first
glider pilot to acheive 2000km non stop. In fifteen hours his marathon flight
took him from Blenheim's Woodbourne airport to his southern turn point of
Lumsden (in Southland), then north up the Southern Alps and onto the North
Island to his most northerly point near Wairoa in Hawke Bay. From there he
returned to Blenheim after some 15 hours of flying covering a total of 2026 km.
His average speed was 135km/hr at heights of up to 28,500ft . As part of this
epic journey he crossed the notorious Cook Strait twice in one trip. Ray
went on to become World Champion at the 1995 Worlds held at Oamarama in
southern part of the South Island. This competition is featured in the video
Champions of the Wave.
This is Ray's account of this record
breaking flight.
2000Km Ray Lynskey
The soaring season had started well in the South
Island, but November arrived and surprised everyone with its low temperatures
and frequent heavy rain. The westerlies which followed in early December were
very disturbed, ruling out long flights but often providing excellent soaring
conditions for relatively short distances.
On Saturday the 8th of December a moist
north—westerly flow spread onto New Zealand, giving heavy rain on the West Coast
and hot dry Foehn conditions to the east of the ranges. This heat wave lasted
about 5 days, scorching eastern plains while ironically rivers fed from the
high country were in flood, closing some roads. Rain spread east off the
mountains at times with the passing of each front, but dried out quickly.
On the evening of December 13 the forecast
indicated that the wind had generally backed further to the west, and appeared
to be less disturbed by fronts than had been the case previously during this
weather system. An active cold front was not due to move onto the South Island
until later on Friday. It looked a possibility for a 2000 kilometre attempt, so
we raced around getting rigged and making the usual preparations for an early
start.
Up at 0430 on Friday morning, the wind was blowing
at about 10-15 knots north-west, and first light at Woodbourne showed 2/8
stratocumulus on the tops and some scruffy roll cloud in the Waihopai Valley,
but no high cloud or lenticulars. It was worth a go.
We were airborne at 0600; Jamie Halstead seeing me
off and John Sinclair towing in the old Cessna 172. We really appreciated the
length of Woodbourne’s runway as the Cessna worked at getting the heavy Nimbus
into the air.
Releasing overhead the field at 3000 feet, I headed
directly for the ridges to the south, following a vaguely marked wave which
allowed a slight climb. I was then able to climb slowly in ridge lift and
turbulent wave—induced thermals to 4000 before moving across to the western end
of Blarich and climbing to 6000. Normally from here the choice is to drop
downwind into the Awatere wave or follow the ridges further west, but the best
option appeared to be to head straight north-west to the roll cloud in the
Waihopai and hope to get there high enough to contact the wave. I actually
reached the rough lower part of the wave at 4000, and thermalled back to 6000,
straightened up into wind and climbed rapidly, at up to 8 knots, until lift
weakened markedly at FL 140. Looking to the south, waves were marked by lines of
cloud which were more like stratus than roll cloud, but it looked reasonable.
It took about an hour to get established in the wave.
The wave clouds were aligned more to the west than
north-west, and did not parallel the upwind ridges. I flew south just west of
the Awatere, descending to 10000 before climbing to FL 150 over the Acheron
River. Continuing on, I hoped that conditions would be stronger to the south,
allowing a higher average speed
My track took me east of Hamner and out over
the Culverden Basin, remaining between FL 120 and FL 170, but it was not
possible to cruise fast in steady lift for very long. Alas I was forced to stop
and climb frequently.
Entering Lees Valley heading up slowly through FL
165 above all the cloud except some cirrus. Suddenly I flew into violent clear
air turbulence. This unnerving and very unpleasant air took me by surprise and
for a few minutes the cockpit was a mess with all sorts of things flying
around. I immediately slowed down but it was impossible to hold any set speed - it was fluctuating between about
40 and 90 knots. This "rolling" turbulence made it difficult to
descend, and in fact I was climbing. 1 guessed that it was the shear between 2
different wind velocities or interference between a higher and a lower wave
system. Whatever it was, I just wanted to get the hell out of it. Back down at
FL 150 it was smooth again.
I followed small wisps in the lee of Torlesse and
Hutt, and climbed in quite strong lift to FL 210 at Mt Somers. This bit was
good and it looked like an easy glide to an obviously active roll cloud in the
north Fairlie Basin. I misjudged this and ended up using weak lift at 11000
behind the Ben McLeod Range to avoid getting stuck. This slow climb was
frustrating, but I needed it, and as soon as possible left it for the growing
roll cloud further south. It looked great, and as I sped off towards it I
expected to pull up into at least 10 knots. But no Nothing. Another small wisp
forming further upwind. Off again, flat out. This time yes!
Reducing speed in anticipation I flew just over the
top of the developing cloud....and again nothing except less sink. Yet another
wisp upwind and other small clouds drifting in a line off the top of the Two
Thumbs. I was baffled. Ok no more heading upwind I tracked south at about FL
130, trying to pick out the wave by carefully observing the scattered wisps.
Eventually I stumbled into a reasonably good climb near Burke’s Pass, which
took me to FL 170. From here it was straight for a flattish cloud in the middle
of the McKenzie Basin which was weak but allowed me to maintain height past
Simons Pass.
Looking ahead things were pretty broken and mixed
up so the best option, something I would have preferred to avoid, was to take
the gamble that the scruffy looking Ben Ohau wave was working.
If the sink was any indication, it should be
booming. Down to 7500 west of Twizel, the cloud looked very rough but there was
a short straight shadow on the ground from the cloud’s leading edge. It took a
few minutes in very turbulent air to climb in the strong gusts to cloud base
and then settle down in a steady 8—9 knots. About time too. By FL180 iIt had
reduced to about 3 knots 50 I
headed to the next well—marked wave west of Omarama where another good climb
allowed me to fly over the top of the extensive cloud upwind to Merivale, and
on to FL 200 in the excellent Pisa wave.
A Queenstown weather report passed on by Christchurch Control
earlier said that the rain had stopped and the sky was clearing. Luckily for me
it was not completely clouded in further south. It looked even better from FL
250 in the Nevis Valley.
As usual, the wind velocity in the south was
markedly higher, and it took 10000 feet to penetrate the sink to cross the next
lot of cloud to an edge west of Kingston. Lift here was much weaker, not quite
strong enough to maintain height at the airspeeds necessary to make any
progress.
My turn point at Five Rivers Garage was under cloud
so I pushed on further southwest until it was visible through a gap for the
photos- I
did not want to descend and risk spending time trying to climb up again, it was
already 1200. 6 hours and 650 kilometres so far. The trip back up the island
better be faster.
Once northbound, I reduced speed to 70 knots,
making good progress with the tailwind component and climbing slowly. Near
Kingston lift improved to 5 knots and I climbed back to FL 160 before diving
downwind over the cloudmass to the Nevis wave. This took me to FL 180. From
there it was simple to run along the leading edge, go downwind into the Pisa
wave, climb to FL 200 and on to the cloud west of Omarama. This was still
working, but not as well as earlier.
I lost a lot of height getting back into the wave
at the southern end of the Ben Ohau's. Further north the cloudmass and rain had
spread out across the McKenzie, so I stopped for a top up climb to FL 170
before heading for a flat looking line of cloud at Tekapo. This marked a weak
wave leading over the Tekapo skifield, but what I really wanted was stronger
lift to fly faster.
With things looking poor ahead to the north, I flew
east to what was now a good wave in the lee of the Two Thumbs. FL 160 here
allowed me to continue north—east following wisps to the Mt Hutt wave. By now
the waves were clearly marked to the north, but not strong enough to climb
high, but at least it was warm and pleasant cruising along between FL 120 and
150.
As I went further, conditions began to deteriorate
and the sky appeared to be just a jumbled mass of wind-blown cumulus. Wave
became difficult to find but I kept going, thinking that the more defined
clouds in the Clarence valley would work. I was down to 8000 before finding
worthwhile lift, but once above the clouds again the lift went up to 8 knots. I
stayed in this lift until reaching FL 200, then flew slowly on, maintaining
height.
At this stage in the flight, approaching Lake
Grassmere at the northern eastern most point of the South Island, I was trying
to ascertain what conditions were like in the North Island.
The time was 1500; it had taken 3 hours to return
to the Blenheim area. A little less than 6.5 hours of daylight left, over 700
kilometres and 2 Cook Strait crossings to go. Hmmm.
The haze made it difficult to gauge conditions. Most
of the North Island appeared to be covered by an extensive cloudmass; the only
clear areas being the southern coast and a gap in the eastern Wairarapa, which
with a large dose of optimism took on the appearance of a roll cloud. A pilot
report relayed by Wellington Control said that Napier was clear.
To me it looked terrible, but the flight was not
impossible to complete at that stage. I still had time, enough oxygen, was not
cold, and generally it had been going quite well up to now. There were no high
lenticulars in the Wairarapa, normal a necessity to cross back to the South
Island, so unless something developed the chances of finishing were remote. It
certainly did not look inviting, but having completed the southern leg I
decided to continue regardless, even if it meant gliding across Cook Strait and
landing at Masterton. There was still a chance.
Advising Wellington Control that I intended to
carry on, I set off across Cook Strait for Wairarapa. As I approached the coast
it became clear just how much cloud there was. Right across the
divide and out toward the east coast. Fortunately the gap over Martinborough
was quite wide and looked more like wave cloud now. I crossed the coast at FL
120 and soon found weak lift, enough to maintain height at 60-70 knots.
Approaching Masterton I decided that it would be better to penetrate
upwind to where
a more developed cloud seemed to be working. This
wave, the primary, was good for FL 140, so I continued cautiously
northward, toward what looked like total overcast, the plan being to turn back
to Masterton when it became obvious that it was not sensible to continue.
It was interesting that in places gently
undulating stratos had formed above the bubbly-looking cloud below. This marked
weak but reliable lift. At the bottoms of the layer the cloud was quite thin
and had some small gaps, the main problem being that the ground was under heavy
shadow and was quite dark, making it difficult to locate features. In the lee
of the Manawatu Gorge there was an area with no gaps tempting me to turn back
for Masterton. I decided to keep going another couple of miles to a more
lenticular-shaped cloud. Luckily it worked, up to 3—4 knots. Stopping for a
while to climb to FL 150, I could soon see that there were better gaps further
on, within easy gliding range. In fact it looked much better, about 7/8 cover,
Out to the east it was clear so I continued on between FL 130 and 160, finding
lift up to 4—5 knots. This was encouraging, and I hoped that the cloud would
tend to clear rather than fill in completely.
Soon the cities of Hastings and Napier came into
view to the east, and cloud cover reduced to 4/8. Lift was 3—4 knots at best,
but reasonably steady and well marked. Wind speed was now much lower, still
with some tailwind component going north. The sun was getting lower, and the
cloud shadow spread further east.
I had never seen the Willow Flat Bridge turn point
before and hoped I could find it. Lake Waikaremoana came into view in the
distance to the north and Wairoa was just to the east. I was sure that the
winding river amongst the undulating countryside below was the Mohaka, so
followed it until I spotted the bridge. It stood out clearly in the sun. Great.
Turnpoint two. Took the photos from FL 130.
Right. Time was now 1720. 4 hours daylight
remaining — it was actually still possible except for small things like the
weather and Cook Strait.
Losing 2000 feet, I pushed back to the wave used
earlier, and followed a similar track southbound. The cloud was definitely
increasing. Soon it became very slow going, although the lift was still there.
When I reached the Norsewood it was obviously totally closed in to the south,
but I was in 4—5 knots lift —the best for some time. There were 2 wide wave
clouds with small gaps between them to the east, and beyond that it clear.
And what was most intriguing was that even
further downwind to the east a long thin high lenticular-shaped cloud had
developed. Earlier it had appeared to be only a thin cirrus line, however now
it took on the right shape. Contemplating this cloud for a few minutes the
choices were clear: return north to land at Hastings or take the chance on this
lenticular and if it didn’t work, well Waipukurau was not far away.
Turning south—east, I stopped briefly in the 2
waves to top up to FL 160, and then kept going. The lennie was right over the east
coast, and closer I got the better it looked. Sure enough just like magic.
Smooth and 6—8 knots up. I could barely believe it.
Maintaining a south—westerly heading at 55 knots, I
climbed in front of the best looking part to FL 2S5. Further south it was
not so well defined, but I was descending only very slowly at 80 knots. The
only part of the North Island that I could see was the east coast. The rest was
covered by a great glaring white mass of cloud. It took time to
progress south and I was very uneasy about the lower cloud spreading further
east. My intentions were to follow the lennie all the way south, and then push
upwind to Lake Wairarapa to see if there was any possibility of making a return
Strait crossing, but I really wanted to know if Masterton was clear enough to
safely reach.
Nothing changed for some time apart from getting
very cold, but passing Castle Point I was reassured to see that the southern
Wairarapa had only 4/8 cover, and Masterton was no problem. With a good safe
diversion available , all concentration was focused on how to "cross the
ditch"
Over Lake Onoke there was a vague roll
cloud/lenticular. It appeared to be "blurred" around the edges. I
would head for that. There weren’t many other options.
Before leaving the lenticular I climbed slowly back
to FL 280. I could not yet see the South Island apart from the Seaward
Kaikouras way off in the distance, due to the haze and low sun in the west.
Time was almost 2000.
After the push into wind I flew just south of the
wave cloud and at FL 190 found lift, 3—4 knots initially, where I stayed until
it was less than one knot at FL 215. I was now becoming a little optimistic
because the upper wind was not too strong, although it was around to the west,
and I did not anticipate the heavy sink associated with an upper wave system.
There were also clouds out in Cook Strait which could possibly help. I had made
6 double crossings previously and thought that FL 215 should be enough to get
home, but without my normal safety margin. To allow the abandon decision to be
left until much later I requested that I be able to use the commercial airport
at Wellington as an alternate rather than returning to the Wairarapa. Not you
usual glider landing spot. Within a few seconds this was approved and I was on
the way.
To the left I could see Lake Grassmere shining in
the sun, and ahead part of Arapawa Island, but still could not pick out the
southern coastline. The glide went well for a while but soon the sink was on the
stops down. I passed about 3 miles south of Karori Rock at FL 150, watching the
altimeter unwind at an alarming rate, and heading for the south side of a line
of cloud slightly lower than I was and aligned west—east. It appeared to be
caused by some convergence effect rather than wave, but would it help? Yes!!!!
Remarkably, heavy sink turned to zero sink and I could even climb a little at
65 knots. This continued for some miles and did make the glide look better. I
was reasonably happy with how it looked at mid—straits, even with the headwind
and more sink expected. But the fact remained that I HAD to reach one coast or
other, and Wellington was getting further away. Very soon I would be committed
to continuing on to the South Island.
The whole southern coast was now quite clear, and
the surface of the sea showed a moderate northerly at low level.
A final glide to the south coast remained a
reasonable prospect and I made the decision.
Tracking directly for the White Bluffs east of
Blenheim I could see several scruffy westerly roll clouds straight ahead and
they worked advertised: quite strong sink and rough but useable lift. I stayed
between 5—6000 until there was only 3 miles to go then flew at 130 knots
toward the northern faces of the Bluffs. Reaching them at 3000 feet I could
then slow down to maintain height before pushing into wind and onto the Wither
Hills and home.
Finally it was a very short, very comfortable final
glide to Woodbourne and in a couple of minutes I had made a finish and landed.
The time was 2100; 20 minutes daylight left. Done!
John and Jamie were waiting, and quite a number of
Marlborough Gliding Club people arrived within minutes, knocking the tops off
bottles. The party was about to begin.
With the completion of this flight, it is a most
appropriate time to thank all those who helped during this and previous
attempts, and a special thanks to the Wellington and Christchurch air traffic
controllers.
Brief details of the flight:
Distance: 2026 Kilometres.
Time taken: 15 hours.
Average speed: 135 kph.
Glider:
Nimbus 2B.
Date: 14
December 1990.
|
THOUGHTS
ON COMPUTER SIMULATION FOR INTENDING PILOTS Flight Simulators and gliding Plagued by a nagging feeling that
one day I would be too old to fly, I decided to take up gliding last year.
Now while my sanity has been doubted by my good wife and my boys are busy
waiting for dad to get his PAX rating, I am happy I can appreciate the beauty
of a glider’s sensuous lines, the ethereal experience of soaring above the
earth without a noisy motor and the intricacies of aerodynamics. I have been
seduced into a wonderful sport. But alas, there was a bit of vanity
in this. You see, for years (ever since FS1 days back in the early 80’s) I
have played with computer flight simulators. And for me gliding is the
ultimate flight simulator. (and more!!!) So I started soaring having looped
a Cessna, landed on the USS Enterprise in a 747, recovered a Lear jet from a
spin at 20,000ft spun and even having managed to land a Schwitzer on the
Golden Gate bridge, moins wings. You can’t do that in a Blanik And for the 20 million dollar
question: do computer flight simulators help learning? Understand that I am now only a raw
C cert graduate, so I can’t tell you if competition work is anything like
simulators. Plus I accept I’m never likely to fly a 747 or a Mig 29 Fulcrum
(I’m told the flight model for the latter is the most realistic around in
simulators) however I do believe computer simulation has saved me some time
and money in the start. Six hours to solo might sound a bit slow but for a
geriatric like me I think it’s not too bad. What I did know when I started was
the principles of how to turn, coordination of rudder and ailerons, landing,
stalls, spin recovery etc. Simulator are a problem for circuits and aerotow
(that was hard) and judging circuit entry height and turning points on a 14
inch computer screen is nothing like the real thing...it’s 50 times harder.
Mind you, make a bungle and just click the reset button. In fact that is one of the most
urgent things that needs to be addressed in real gliders. The lack of a mouse
and no zoom button for on the windscreen. The help function however in a
trainer is useful, it just comes up automatically (very useful if you stall
too close to a ridge) but I have never met a computer that complained about
feeling airsick or that kicks the rudder pedal when the woolly gets out of
line. There are several changes I can suggest but I think it might be a few years
before they release CFI version 1.12. What then are the problems of
computer simulators? Well most can’t teach soaring, well
not Microsoft Flight simulator. The soaring situations are pretty ho hum and
rather unrealistic. The air brakes are lousy and the view bad news. I
understand Flight Unlimited is better but the latest version lacks a glider.
The pick for soaring has to be SFS, the Soaring Simulator. (URL
www.members.aol.com/UMilde/sfs.htm). German made (naturally enough), it has a
great flight model, stall and spin seems like the real thing (although it
doesn’t seem to stall as readily as it should in steep turns). Plenty of
different gliders. The thermals seem to be OK, but I’m no great expert at
these. Useful for practicing centering technique and just like the real
thing, half the time the lift is gone by the time you get there. There are
other gliders to help mark thermals, the thermals move with wind and so on.
It has aerotows and winches plus competitive courses which might prove useful
later on for me, if I ever get that good. Unfortunately I’ve not found any
decent ridges yet and as for wave, well if you put your right arm up beside
your face and move it laterally back and forth...... What of the negatives of
simulators: 1. Sometimes the controls are a
little simplistic (e.g. air brakes on Microsoft) 2. Rapid Stick Movement (RSM) Our
CFI rightly comments on my habits in this regard which I suspect is more to
do with my other sports (especially motor sport and wind surfing) where you
have to be quick. Mind you computer joysticks probably do teach bad habits. 3. You don’t learn about the
pleasure of thermaling in the back seat (i.e. testing your stomach contents),
grumpy ATCs, the view up there, the feelings of terror, elation, bumpy air,
the cost of aerotows etc. Mind you the pause button is very handy for making
a cuppa, and as for all that plumbing worry on long flights..... So if your learning gliding,
lacking money, not enough time, fogged in or just got prostate problems, try
a flight simulator. Otherwise stick to the real thing. |
Omarama:
Getting a Silver C
After four years of trying I
finally made it to the Mecca of gliding
Omarama is a town that many
say time has passed by, and until recently that's what I did.
However, what was once a desolate dry frost ridden tussock grassed hick town,
has becomes an ideal spot for soaring. Times change.
Omarama for me was a chance
to get a badge flight or two. Against Denis’s and Chris’s racing performance,
my personal goals seems pretty trivial but for me gliding is not easy and
compared with the other sports I have done, it is by far the most difficult.
Not the actual steering a glider but rather the judgement and risk assessment
you have to do especially cross country. Its rather like being a doctor, except
I have had 20 years experience not a miserable 50 hours airtime. My gliding
reminds me of my first month in hospital as a trainee intern. Bumbling, barely
knowing where to go and hoping like hell I wouldn’t make a mistake.
Omarama was an inspiration.
For my first time ever, I went cross country on a purely thermal day. Mike
Dekker kindly offered to sit in the back and give me a "spot the landing
strips" jaunt in the basin. Two hours later, we were looking for the strip
¾ the way up the Ben Ohau's. The thermals were to 12000ft!!!! and I had gone to
the middle of the valley to avoid the violent updrafts off the mountains. No
wishy washy thermals like on Miser Spur. Even with the vario stuck on 5+ I was
going too fast for personal comfort. So this is how you race a glider. Had to
come home cause I had the contest director in the back seat!
Lesson number one: Over
development. A bit like silicon: it’s gonna go down sooner or later. On the way
back to Omarama a little tiki tour towards Magic Mountain saw 3-4 down so I
scooted home thinking that that big black cloud must surely give lift. Like
hell! Nothing on the Bens because of the easterly on the ground, and only that
low spur off Little Ben saved us. Mike’s directions to this proved the saver.
The spot had already claimed Larry with a land out.
Two days later, I set off
with barograph and declaration of getting at least to the military camp at
Tekapo to score a 50 Km flight. Uncertain as to whether I had to land out, I
took a photo of Fork Stream and then contemplated going back to a thermal ½ way
across the McKenzie tussock lands that had previously got me to 6000ft.
Unfortunately, a Twin Astir doesn’t penetrate well into a westerly and I
couldn’t even get to Irishman's Creek so back to Tekapo I went and scooted
across the field to the Mt. John Observatory to find nice ridge lift and the
odd thermal. Oddly the air traffic was zilch, MBZ quiet, and not a lot on glide
chat. Look at watch: 6pm.
Maybe I could get to Two
Thumbs Range having heard one glider there at 7000: According to my
calculations I would need 4500ft to get to the Thumbs ridge as the base
elevation was 2000ft at Tekapo. (I don't trust 30:1 on a westerly day in the
Twin) Alas all I could make was 3500ft in the cruddy little ridge lift and
thermal.
Nice spot Mt John, but I
couldn't stand the prospect of another 3 hours on this ridge to get a 5 hour
flight. I finally got a thermal to 4000 but it died ½ way across the lake and
Tekapo airfield looked a lot nicer than some farmers strip I couldn’t even see.
It's interesting landing on a
sealed runway. Amazing how well a glider steers. A nice welcome from Richard
the airfield manager as I parked off the tarmac helped the feeling that at
least I had achieved something, of a sort.
GTU at Tekapo
On my third and last flight I
again took the trusty Replograph in the back seat with the aim of gold height
and 5 hour. After an aborted first tow due to a loose object in the cockpit
(not my brain), I got established on Mt. Horrible but the thermals would only
initially give me 6000. Soon a developing cloud marking a 9000ft thermal but
not enough for any badge, so I headed to Hugos Elevator. The name sounded
interesting.
Having never seen this area
from the air I was amazed. The Hawkdens went for miles and they were working
cause this funny big twin with swept back wings shot through below me. I
struggled for ages trying in various places to get altitude, always mindful of
not going too far down the Hawkdens because of the land out and retrieve
problems. Oh the temptation of a quick trip to Naseby. The funny twin thingy
shot back above me this time!
What to do? Cell phone call
to Mike to verify on the finer points of a badge flight. His advice: go higher!
Great. Out of desperation I went to the Omarama saddle and the outcrop at its
south western end. I had seen a few gliders coming back from there but none
going up. I tried circling in the lift there but didn’t gain anything. So I S’d
the ridge and peeled a madarin.
Damn! Need two hands. Putting
my knee against the stick (the Twin slowly rolls to the right left unattended),
feet off the pedals I peeled the succulent fruit. Stupid vario is stuck again at
4+ . Tap, tap. Still stuck. When are they going to fix this dumb
instrument? No matter how hard I tapped it, the needle stayed there and
the St Bathans ridge quickly dropped below me as wisps of cloud appeared
behind. Hmmm. No rotor, what’s the story?
I explored this little wave
to the south east and it ran the length of the St Bathans range. Perhaps I
should have gone north-west in the wave but I wanted to see the Lindis Ridge
and St Bathans closer. So after getting to 13200ft I quickly shot forward of
the St Bathans to get back the partial pressure of oxygen in my alveoli. That
should do the Gold Height gain leaving only this 5 hour business. Getting bored
in a glider is not my idea of fun but sometimes you just have to do what you
gotta do. So I traversed the length of the Lindis Ridge several times and found
piddly little bits of wave in front of the ridge running over to Magic
Mountain. Nice weather, sun settling slowly in the west, the hours reeled off.
Got cold, must get a latte machine in the twin.
"Your time is up, glider
number 21 come in please"
At last.
Thanks to Mike for advice,
Denis as OO, Larry and Chris for the retrieve plus all their support and tips.
Jim V