Purchasing a used paraglider.

By this point, you've gotten a sense that I am very much in favour of finding the most cost effective means possible to get and remain in paragliding (and still retain a high degree of safety).

I've outlined how you can go about evaluating your local schools to find the true 'soup to nuts' cost of getting a license with Paragliding Economics 102: Lessons.

I've also outlined why with your first wing you should favour a used paraglider over new and rental over used with Paragliding Economics 101: First Wing Purchase.

But lets say your local school does not offer wing rental? Now what? Assuming suitability (as discussed with your instructor) and availability, into the 'pre-owned' bazaar we venture.

Two Simple Rules

Rule 1: The seller needs my money more than I need their wing. 

This is my variant of the age old 'there is no such thing as savers remorse'. I remind myself of this before any interaction with someone looking to sell. Putting myself in this frame of mind helps keep me objective and enables me to easily walk away - a deal that fails leaves me with money everyone wants and the seller with a wing few people want.

Rule 2: Trust no data that is not readily measurable. 

Launched off grass, accordion packed, no SIV, closet stored. None of these statements mean anything to me as I can't readily verify them. As a buyer I want to know four things - the 'Four Ps' - price, pilot, pics and porosity.

The Four Ps

Price - Price is self explanatory.

Pilot - I want to know who has been flying this wing. This info allows me look up the flight logs in Leonardo and XContest. I can also look up videos on YouTube and Vimeo. I can even look the pilot up in ParaglidingForum.com. Sounds creepy? I don't think so. This is how I determine if they are being honest with me - compare the description of the wing with their digital paragliding foot print. I have seen cases where a pilot selling a wing claimed it had only X hours but was bragging a month earlier on Paragliding Forum how they had clocked 2 times X on the wing that summer. Likewise with track logs and videos. Only grass launched, how about those tracks in Turkey? No SIV, funny that video of acro over Annecy. If there is any inconsistency, remember Rule #1 and walk away.

Pics - Pictures of the wing are always nice, but what I am after is a pic of the manufacturer label. This will have the Make, Model, EN rating, Serial Number (S/N) and Date of Manufacture (DOM). With the DOM I apply my previously suggested depreciation of 20% per year and check it against the sale price. Also, if there is any doubt in the legitimacy of the sale, I ask that a sticky note be placed in the photo of the manufacturer label with my name and date. I would reserve the use of the sticky to be a condition of final sale after price is finalized and not something to push for right away.

Porosity - I will not touch a used wing that has not had a proper test done by a porosity meter. I would also ask for a photo of the test result.  My minimum is leading and trailing edge centre top cell - it is the part most likely to be smacked nose first into the ground on landing and dragged tail last during take off. I suggest researching the relationship of porosity to wing lifespan, there are a few graphs floating about. One note of caution - a wing can retain porosity well after the fabric has passed its useful life - you will frequently see this with wings from the last decade flown only one season and closet dumped. The porosity will be high, but the fabric will have the strength of tissue paper. Another reason to ask for a pic of the manufacturer label. I personally will not consider a wing more than a few years old because of this.

Summing it up

With a little 'leg work' and an objective mind, there is quite a bit of savings to be had by going into the secondary paraglider market rather than purchasing new outright. If you keep the Two Rules and Four Ps in your kit while evaluating options, you stand a much better chance of walking away with a deal you are happy with as opposed to an unexpected surprise a season or so down the road.

Reserve Parachutes.

Reserves...

The 'backup', the Plan 'B',  the 'last chance', and the 'when in doubt, whip it out'.

Anyone familiar with sport aviation knows the importance of having a reserve - either attached to the aircraft or to the pilot proper.

Thankfully I have not had to use one paragliding, though came close with a spin-stall-cravat-spiral-stall-spin free style set. I have had to use one skydiving and fully appreciate the importance of what is certainly a second lease on life.

Likewise we see reserves employed in financial circles, typically under the guise of diversification. Nassim Taleb's suggested barbell investment strategy is an extreme case - where assets are allocated heavily into ultra safe, highly liquid, low return short term Treasuries at one end and the remainder into high risk, high multiple return long shots at the other. There is little allocated in between.

If we look at paragliding and Taleb's investment suggestion - we certainly see parallels.  The wings we fly are cutting edge technology, high aspect ratio, non rigid gliders and many of us offset this with round reserves not far removed in design/function from their mid-century grandfathers.

I could go on about the proposed introduction of increasingly rectilinear reserves, AADs, cutaway systems, and/or SkyHook clones. But the reality is, I am not a test pilot. I leave early adoption to those far more talented and braver than I. For the time being, I will stick with my 'T-Bill' round as others prove out more nascent paragliding techologies.

So why all this talk of reserves?

Because for all this talk of backup plans, few of us have a Plan B for our primary income stream.  Attempting to correct this lack of reserve brings me to more recent events.

Over the span of three days, a full time job offer coupled with a trio of parties looking for p/t freelance help. When it rains, it pours. In the past, I would have said yes to the f/t and politely declined the freelance work.

But this is not the past and I am no longer in the games industry (and with it goes the 60 to 80 hour work weeks).

A plan is hatched. A thumbs up to the f/t work followed by a yes to the first client, suggestions to the second on how they could solve the issue on their own (to see if they are serious about needing my time), and a 'Let me get back to you' to the third.

A fair amount of research followed on the pros and cons to sole proprietorship vs incorporation (especially in terms of liability), how to incorporate, what can be written off, record keeping, how to avoid becoming designated by CRA as a Personal Service Business, and marketing.

I also kept three starting out lessons in mind:

1. Have no partners, a ship has only one captain.
2. Have no employees, subcontract.
3. Have no inventory, avoid front loaded risk.

So in September, 2014 - Levemus Software Inc. was born with the tag line 'Silicon 2 Server Solutions' (reflecting a background in embedded through to cloud development).

Levemus -> Latin first person, plural, subjunctive conjugation of leve -> to rise, to lift, to climb.

Loosely translated -> "Let's climb together."

The first thing I noticed on LinkedIn with respect to many of my peer who have gone f/t freelance is the lack of a website (it may just be that they have too much work and not enough time), in this day and age not having a website is akin to not having a yellow pages listing in decades previous. Website issue: solved -> www.levemus.com

Then a business bank account with a local credit union, followed by the first of my CapEx - office furniture. Computer equipment is 'borrowed'/repurposed until the first client cheque allows for a more mobile solution.

A month has passed. First invoice issued to the first of the trio (a rather happy client it would appear). The second had a change in direction, no longer needing my help. And the third indicated possible work come the beginning of next month. All of this without any marketing. Fortune smiled indeed in September.

A reserve was added to the employment harness.

Sled run for one, sled run for all.

Day two with my sheep in wolfs clothing (the recently acquired Gin Carrera Medium in Apple).

The atmospheric sounding for the day is looking promising with moderate lift to above launch height and an ever increasing prefrontal inflow. Get out early and stay up all day is the plan. Too bad reality doesn't always mimic the forecast.

Arriving at the FlyBC Ranch, I see a number of cars parked about but zero activity. Maybe everyone has already headed up the hill?

A quick peek through the spyglass reveals the Russian collective up on launch, but no sign of Jim or crew.  A few wings eventually launch and make their way down to the Riverside LZ. From the direct route they take I suspect lift is as elusive as ever today.

Half an hour passes and a truck pulls up carrying one of our 'long lost brethren', Robin, who has been pulled away by the real world for the last season and a half.  We catch up on how things have been and Robin provides some suggestions on shows to watch to help kill time as the long white cloud of winter dampens flying. Gary and (the other) Martin soon arrive and we make our way up to launch.

Up top appear a few other faces we rarely see these days - Mia and (the original) Martin. Must be a special event bringing everyone out.

And that there is - an ash scattering.

One of the local landowners, Joe, who had been a big part of the flying community passed some time ago and his family wanted him to enjoy one last flight. It would be another few hours before that flight was due to occur, but folk were making their way up to launch and getting a first sled run in before the main contingent arrived.

The first flight off was uneventful aside from the nuisance of the brake line 'ball' on the right toggle getting fished through a pair of twisted C lines. Basic preflight failure - not following the line from the toggle to the 'swivel' after an abort. Not impressed with the loss of the flight, I make a point of swinging further south over the ranch to put myself in clear view of anyone in the parking lot - hoping someone might look up and hang around a few mins while I pack up.

The gambit pays off as Jim pulls the 'bus' around into the LZ and a few students hop out to give me a hand quickly packing up the wing.

Round 2.

We arrive to find a decent size crowd on launch just as the Joe's ash flight is about to take off. They are away without incident and head south-ish. Another tandem quickly follows suit (I suspect a second family member). It is certainly a perfect day to see Joe off - not a cloud in the sky and silky smooth air.

My flight was another of non drama - smooth inflow, little to no lift. A textbook student first flight day.

Landing, I figure I am done for the day and have the car packed up. Robin lands and starts discussing with Martin about the possibility of time for yet another go at it.

6.2 aspect ratio in an EN B, who would have thought?

Round 3.

The cycles are dying off in the setting sun. The Carrera is as easy a wing to forward launch as any and I am away knowing this will be yet another top to bottom. Might as well make the best of it and it's varying degrees of speed bar all the way down.

An amazing weekend to break in a new wing, catch up with old friends, make new ones and, most importantly, to send one of our 'family' off.

If the season ended here - it would be on a perfect note.

*contented sigh*

Take some Gin (Carrera), add some Apple, shake (Part 2).

...

not even packed up and the Atlas pulls up in the landing field. The query from the cab, 'heading back up?'

That is an affirmative, Ghostrider.

Back on top of the mountain and every one is milling about, not a wing in the air.

Curious.

A gust comes through rustling the trees and ... blowing downhill. Ah, so ka.

An hour later, having gotten my fill of jawboning with local and student alike I realize that we are starting to see marked lulls in the downhill flow of wind. There is going to be rotor at some point away from the hill, but the sound of the wind in the trees hints at peak speeds less than 20 kph. Definitely choppy, but manageable.

I recall a piece of advice from Chris over the summer regarding boundaries and a shrinking flight envelope. If we never test our comfort zone, the conditions within which we are willing to fly will continually shrink until even the tamest of conditions will be perceived to be beyond our ability. In other words, from time to time we have to be willing to go to where there be dragons.

Begin pre-launch montage.

And so the cycle begins of waiting for the elusive lull, hoping the mountain doesn't go completely katabatic before I can get away.

I feel the slightest hint of uphill wind, the flag at the bottom showing wind coming in, the sock beside me limp. Its enough and I am off.

3...2...1... cue 'Highway to the Rotor Zone'.

I drift rapidly to the left and turn quickly right 90 degrees to face into the wind coming over the ridge to the north. The aggregation of the wind being driven up and over that ridge line has me parked in its lee. I am not entirely sure how far this compression extends, so the thought of a straight downwind run leaves me iffy with the river in that line of flight. I feel my best chance is cross wind it and face west again. My active flying skills gets their first real test since France, with the wing rolling, yawing,  and pitching about in the turbulent churn. It is under these conditions I get a better sense of the pitch stability of the Carrera. On the Delta2 I would have my work cut out for me with the wing reacting to the gusts in a series of sharp pitching motions. The Carrera remained more or less overhead, freeing some mental effort from having to be hyper vigilant in trying to prevent a full frontal via an errant gust. The roll on the other hand demanded more attention, with one cross wind gust announcing itself with a rapid twacking of the fabric in the speed bag of the pod followed by my losing the left quarter or so of the wing.

A minute of riding the chop and I am in dead calm air. Jim had chimed in on the radio suggesting pushing further south towards the Riverside LZ as opposed to my drive west, pointing out that the wind would die off quickly as I move further downwind from the northern ridge. In retrospect, it would have provided an increased chance for success over my eventual route towards the Ranch LZ.

Lesson learned.

After the mountain tried its hand at shaking up a Gin/Apple martini I feel that one could sum the wing up as "feels like a 'C', recovers like a 'B'".

Take some Gin (Carrera), add some Apple, shake (Part 1).

Tuesday, a peek in the inbox reveals, "Still interested in trading in your Delta 2?".

Jim has a potential buyer looking for a preowned Ozone Delta 2 Large, I'm looking to downsize, and the demo model Gin Carrera M is up for sale.

We might just have the makings for a deal.

By end of day we certainly do as I am lighter a Delta 2 plus some cash and heavier one Gin Carrera in apple.

Courtesy of Gin Gliders.

The weight loss that drove the downsizing had been root caused by the specialist the day prior (a genetic conspiracy it would appear) and meds prescribed to get it and a plethora of other symptoms under control (one of the more notable being nausea that would take hold in less than 20 mins from the time of launch).

Saturday morning. While the side effects of the meds are still a bit of a nuisance, I am starting to feel better than I have been in several months.

Only one way to celebrate this fortunate turn of events, pile the kit into the car and bee line for the hill.

Upon arrival, the LZ is virtual ghost town with Jim having taken the students to the training hill pending the establishment of the afternoon inflow. Knowing there might be an hour plus wait I wander the Ranch and chance upon a pair of pilots waiting for a ride, chatting them up in sequence to help kill the time.

The beep beep beep of a Nissan Atlas backing up heralds 'go' time and we all pile into the van for the first run of the day. The skinny on the Line group for the local club hinted that most folk would be up in Pemberton thus leaving us an uncrowded hill for what might be the last weekend of summer.

The crew is a mixture of first time and low air time pilots, plus moi. The nervous energy of the first timers, as they come to grips with the magnitude of what they are about to do and the sense of empowerment that will surely follow, leaves me with both a smile and sense of envy. How many of us on those first few rides up the mountain were not thinking at some point, "why am I doing this?", only to have any and all doubt disappear within seconds of landing?

Left to my own thoughts - how is my stomach going to handle this? The wing is smaller than my last and despite the EN-B rating, it is much more talkative (reactive to turbulence). Much like the first timers, I need to cast doubt aside and simply trust that it is going to be fine.

At the top we find waiting for us (the other) Martin and a pair of ladies that typically fly Bridal Falls on the south side of the valley. With the sun inching lower on the horizon each day, north facing Bridal is finding itself more and more in shade thereby driving the regulars to south facing Woodside. But even with this trio added to our ranks, Woodside is far from becoming a beehive of activity today.

The femme fatale duo launch first, followed by myself. Getting settled into the swing of things takes longer than normal as I try to align how I would fly the Delta 2 with the handling of the Carrera. It doesn't take long to realize that I need to let the wing do its thing and more or less just 'shut up and listen'.

Allowing the wing to sniff out the sporadic collection of 0.1 and 0.2 m/s climbs, I again have Kelly's advice playing in my head about mirroring the air but keeping energy in the carve. The wing turns in much quicker than the Delta2 and yet I find it more reluctant to dive if I am bit heavy handed on the initial turn in. Following what appear to be a trio of buzzards, I claw and scratch my way back up to launch height. By this point I am half an hour into the flight and my stomach is handling things remarkably well. Two more pilots have since launched and all have or are in the midst of landing.

Then the -2.4 m/s flush.

No matter where I go, the mountain is singing some Celine Dion track whilst I am being drilled to the oceans floor.

To the LZ it is. Nary a climb on the way out, but it matters not as I arrive with height to spare.

Thus ends what is easily my best flight since the last day in France at St.Vincent.

There is hope.

The mistress.

The inversion long established, the winds have made the valley virtually unflyable.

A chance to awaken my mistress of six years from her long slumber, as she wants little to do with my flying activities.

 

Flying Fast Forward 2014

The 2014 season is well under way with:

The Ozone Chabre Open in Laragne, France.

XC Course with Chris White and crew of Jocky Sanderson's Escape XC in Sederon and St.Vincent les Forts, France.

A bit of thermalling at our home sites Mt.Woodside, Agassiz and Mt.Mackenzie, Pemberton.

Gin Carrera: One EN B to rule them all.

A revelation occurred while I was in Laragne - my wing (an Ozone Delta 2 - Large) is not penetrating or reacting as fast as I remember from last year. A quick hop on the scales and voila  - I somehow managed to lose 10 kg since the last time I checked back in February.

Weight versus wing size: a constant battle of trade offs.

The layman would respond to such an occurrence with congratulations. In the flying world, a loss (or gain) of this magnitude can have serious implications. In the worst case a pilot may no longer be within the certified weight range for the wing, meaning anything from a disqualification in competition to undefined behavior when departing normal flight. In my case the loss means I am no longer flying at the top end of the weight range for the wing. This means that while my glide ratio is still the same in calm air, it can drop significantly in anything beyond a mild headwind. It also means a loss of responsiveness, which is both bad and good. Bad in that initiating turns will take more effort and will be slower but good with any turn initiated by a collapse suffering from a similar dampening. And while the impact of any individual collapse will be lessened, the frequency will go up as the pilot approaches the bottom end of the weight range.

The options: carry an extra 10 kgs of ballast (basically a few large hydration bladders filled with water) or downsize the wing.

Enter Gin.

Gin wings have been somewhat of a snuffalopogus here on Canadian Pacific Coast. The distributor for the longest time was US based and charging upwards of 20% over competing brands being sold by our local dealers. Combine this with a Canadian dollar trading at or below par for the last few years and there has been little incentive to give the brand a second look. A Gin wing in these parts is a rare sight indeed.

The only constant - change.

Then within the last year a local pilot partnered up and secured distribution rights for Canada. With these rights, they have been able to provide wings to the local dealer at a price point making them competitive to the locally established brands.

Open your mind (to new possibilities).

If you look up brand loyalty in a dictionary, you will find no reference to me. If a product from manufacturer A meets my needs better than that from manufacturer B which I am currently using, I switch. So with an open mind to the possibility of switching brands, I contacted our local dealer to give a medium Carrera a roll in the ethereal hay.

Getting a sense of things.

Two immediate impressions: fast and responsive.

The wing does come up dynamically during launch, requiring some input either via the brakes to settle in place (in light winds) or the C risers (in stronger conditions). After pull up and turn to run, I feel the harness pressure start to go slack, meaning the wing was surging ahead of me. My typical response with the Delta 2 is to pour on the gas and get ahead of it. The Carrera would have no part of this technique and wants brake input to settle it back in place. Once out and away from launch, it is time to give this vixen a quick shake down run.

I instinctively take my half wrap grip with the toggles, causing the brake line 'balls' to settle into the upper palm of my hand with my thumb and index finger settling on top in contact with the brake line. I am not sure if this is the best position to use yet, but it is what I am accustomed to.

Catching the edge of the house thermal right off launch with the left wing tip, the pod picks up a slight yawing oscillation. Once the yaw was settled, I begin a progressive bank into the thermal and get an immediate sense of the wings agility. Whereas the Delta 2 will tend to resist the initial turn in until some speed has built up, the Carrera simply carves in with little hesitation. This results in an immediate 'whoa nelly' application of outside brake. Turning on a dime in sharp, narrow cores will not be a problem with this wing but extra care will be needed on weaker days. Realizing that a smoother, subtler brake application will be needed with this wing - I ease up on the inside brake and centre on the core within a pair of turns. By the end of the second turn, the lack of roll dampening becomes increasingly obvious. What I mean by lack of dampening is that with the Delta 2 I get a sense of riding on the sea, the wing reacts to the air by moving around in a relatively unified manner - much like bobbing on the ocean on a light wind day. The roll movements in the Impress 3 are soft and smooth for the most part (there have been notable exceptions mind you, almost all involving Pemberton in some sort of lee). Contrast this with the Carrera where the roll movements are sharper and more independent. I get a sense that the two halves of the wing tend to fly less unified than with the Delta 2.

This increasing roll activity means increased workload, but it also means more feedback. Still getting comfortable with this new dimension of input, I work my way from the house thermal northwards to a ridge leading to the clear cut just above and behind launch. Climbing here is one of the fastest ways to peak the mountain, but the climbs tend to be more disorganized as they break off from a sudden flattening of slope at the clear cut edge. Searching doesn't take long as the wing actually yaws right about 45 degrees and pitches forward slightly, taking me through a slight amount of sink and right into a thermal. The Delta 2 tends to slide diagonally under these circumstances, requiring my subsequent input to turn and align it with the thermal proper. In the thermal and still deciphering the roll, I find myself quickly drawn into the core.

Climbing above launch, I push back south towards the house thermal. Once again the wing yaws, pitches forward ever so slightly and is drawn into the thermal. Thermal autopilot?

Fast forward to the afternoon, the inversion is well established and the winds picking up on launch. Not  too strong ... yet. It is under these conditions that I find my major gripe with the wing - the C risers. The  short distance between C and B risers means that keeping a wall built and the wing C stalled with the tail on the ground is much more difficult than with the Delta 2.  Then there is the matter of spilt C's. If the outer risers are not taken, the tips will repeatedly try to fly and nose over into the centre of the wing. A new owner not accustomed with this configuration (and the split but not split A's) can expect to put some time in kiting under strong conditions to dial in their launch technique. An SIV is a must as well to get a sense of far one can push the stall/spin point. While the Delta 2 was surprisingly forgiving when I first tried stalling and spinning it, I am not one to immediately assume that the same holds true with other similar performance wings such as the Carrera (even with a common brake pressure).

Taking the wing out in the rattier, wind torn thermals I get my first collapse with it - the typical outside tip during the first turn trying to map a climb in less than stellar conditions. The tip snaps back into place on its own with no further drama. I would not have taken this collapse under the Delta 2, highlighting the extra workload one can expect.

Approaching the landing field and the valley wind is in full swing. The ease with which the wing noses its way upwind is noticeable with far fewer of the slight pitch backs I would normally see on the Delta 2 under gusty conditions. Landing is similar to the Delta 2 with a nice smooth progressive flare - it will take a few tries of progressively lower 90 degree hooks to final to see how quickly the wing will plane out (a common technique of mine with tighter LZs).

To sum it up.

For the pilot who is moving up from what is considered an EN A or low end B, please realize that the EN test rating does not reflect the workload this wing will require before departing normal flight. Gin has described this wing as 'Performance' and a true successor to the EN C Tribe. Simply put, if you are not yet willing to jump on an EN C you might want to consider other options right now such as the Atlas, Rush, and/or Chilli.

But if the pilot is looking to upgrade and is already demoing wings classed as EN C (Delta/Alpina, Cayenne, Artik, Maverick, Sigma, etc), give this wing a try. It has quite a bit to offer an experienced pilot and would in theory allow them to compete in EN B class. Best of both worlds?

The Flying Circus (XC Course Day 6)

Friday.

Last day of the course and the Mistral is waning.

An ambitious plan - St.Vincent to St.Andre, conditions allowing.

I have not been an inch south of Dormillouse, so the flight plan briefing is a sort of Greek to me. The collection of town, valley, and peak names is lost in a Francophone alphabet soup. It becomes clear my plan is going to be simple, find a guide heading that way, get high and keep them in sight. Even if I lose the lead guide, odds are another will be venturing along behind with a slower mini gaggle - simply wait by thermaling in place with a wide valley/LZ within easy glide.

That was the plan. Little did we know, the pilots of the Haute Alps had a very different experience in store for us.

The lingering remnants of the Mistral means this is still the only flyable site in the region and with the improving conditions it appears that every pilot with the day off has made the St. Vincent pilgrimage. A similar trek appears to have been undertaken by the neophyte public, looking to savour their first taste of free flight.

In other words, it gonna get crazy up in here.

Arriving at launch, the conditions are still fairly docile. But with the sun and tourists out in full swing, this doesn't present a problem for the tandem operators. The TMs simply adapt to the conditions by adapting the customer they take. Miniature passengers toting similarly scaled  harnesses accompany the TMs to the launch area. Chris points out that the size of the passengers steadily increases in conjunction with the conditions. I gather the French have a different set of rules with respect to minors and waivers than we do in British Columbia (a waiver signed by a guardian on behalf of a minor back home is not enforceable in court).

Over the course of an hour the passengers start to approach adult size and a mass of pilots start to get ready. Looking at the crowd in the set up area, we could ultimately see upwards of 30 wings trying to concurrently work the 1 km long ridge. Under normal circumstances this wouldn't be an issue as better pilots would climb out and move to one of the local peaks to jumpstart a cross country. But with the clearing weather, the inversion at launch is more established. And no one cares.

A pair of queues form at launch, the north for tandems and the south for solo pilots. From the pair spawns a stream of launches continuing unabated for at least an hour. The best of the group can climb no more then 50 meters above launch, the worst linger in the ridge lift 10 meters below.

I launch into this forming Grand Melee to hear on the radio one of the guides recommending that the remainder of our group hold off for the time being. The ridge has turned into an airborne bucket of crabs, everyone scrambling to get out and hindering the efforts of all around them. Some are ridge soaring, some trying to thermal, some turning left, some turning right. Any success in finding lift by a lone pilot is frustrated as the mob converges in on them from every direction. A few mid air close calls ensue. I don't hear any yelling or cursing, yet.

It dawns on me that the safest place to be is below this herd (as no one has been able to climb out yet). No pilot in their right mind will follow someone who appears to be on the verge of sinking out. I push out, drop down to just below launch height, drift back in, and surf the dynamic lift from the valley wind. A moment of much needed tranquility. I now have to figure out how to get away from this mess.

The largest problem is that the climbs are still weak. As climbs are found, the herd stampedes in and prevents any further progress upwards by the (un)fortunate discoverer. I need to get a climb that is far enough away from the herd so that by the time they see there is lift, I will be at or above the highest pilots.

This means getting out of phase with the gaggle.

When the herd stampedes north, I must push south.

When the herd jumps on a climb, I need to push on.

Get enough horizontal separation so that when I find a climb, the vertical separation will follow quickly. This means I need to wait for the remainder of pilots to be opposite me at either the far north or south end of the ridge before I start circling.

Then it happens, a poor soul finds a climb just south of launch near the bowl and starts to circle. The sharks swarm him and more or less rip his chances of climbing out to shreds. I turn around and head north to the very opposite end.

Figure eight-ing back and forth, I drift up to launch height. Patience. Watch the shark swarm. They pay me no heed.

A thermal.

A lone wing has turned and is moving my way.

A quad of wing overs lets the interloper know in no uncertain terms that his company is not appreciated. He turns back. In a thermal, nothing says 'get off my lawn' like wing overs.

I start to circle and climb out. This catches the sharks attention and they speed bar towards me. But it is too late, they can only maintain at the upper extent of the dynamic lift and the thermal has lifted me above it.

I drive south, above and in opposition. Hooking the thermal that the uncoordinated mass wasted, I move onto the slopes of Dormillouse.

The Flying Circus now left far below and behind.

The end result was a jaunt past the peak and south in the direction of St.Andre. I didn't make it very far as only one of the guides, Chris, was able to get away. He landed just south of my eventual LZ.

Sometimes the gaggle is greater than the sum of its parts, other times it cannot even rise to the level of its weakest link. Today was a lesson in the latter.

A Hat Trick (XC Course Day 5 - Part 3)

Racing the setting sun and a blend of pleas to call it a day to retire to either home or the EckoBar down on the lakeshore, I set up for Round Three.

This will have to be a short one, lest I lose my ability to select my seat for the bus ride home. With the pilots on our course having differing opinions on how often flying clothing should be cleaned,  one should keep in the back of their mind the ability to grab a seat with an open-able window for the hour plus ride home. The key is near window, upwind.

The ridge is still working and folk are maintaining easily in the residual valley westerly. After twenty minutes of beats back and forth, I decide to finally give the top landing LZ a go. Both because the conditions have tamed enough to reduce the combined effect of rotor and compression zone lift AND because if I land in the bailout, any chance to avoid a two front variant of the Battle of Ypres is kaput.

Top landing is a rather new beast for me with early landing attempts by local pilots at our primary sites being accurately described as top crashing. My attempt would be caveated with:

1. Do not go over top of the parking lot as the rotor could still be nasty.
2. Be mindful of the compression zone lift.
3. Keep out of the way of the tandems still flying and landing.
4. Make sure the attempt, if aborted, still leaves enough height to make a bailout of some form.

A few extra beats to ensure no tandems would be landing soon, I start a down wind run.

The plan: hook in low directly from the downwind leg with a diving turn that should have me on the ground before the parking lot, have me in the compression zone as short a time as possible, and leave me a lot of runway if I do need to kill altitude.

The execution:

 

Downwind leg.

 

The hook through base and final.

 

 Plane out just before touching down.

 And voila.

Uh oh...

 

 

Chris came over right afterwards to inform me that while the landing was beautifully executed, it was poorly planned. As the site is still prone to westerly gusts, if one were to occur while I was on final, I could have been blown into the parking lot to my right. A wiser approach is to do the same downwind leg, but turn away from the hill then back upwind and drift in at an angle. This gives the best chance of mitigating the effect of a gust. The point was well taken and will certainly be a significant consideration in future top landing attempts.

 

The day done, the wing packed up, and a windowed, upwind seat of choice acquired in the bus.

 

So ends the Hat Trick Day - a scratching low save when all others bombed out, fun with clouds and low collapses, and a first top landing. This is the sort of day that builds a better pilot.

A Hat Trick (XC Course Day 5 - Part 2)

The day has just started and a low save already under the belt.

The wing is a spaghetti of fabric, lines, and webbing in the 2nd row of the van as we race our way back up for a second go. The majority of our crew has returned from a morn of via ferrata and itching for a different sort of climb. And unlike the day previous, the overdevelopment daemon has not yet reared its head overtop of the peaks. This will allow for a wider swath of experience levels to get out and clock a few more hours of airtime.

Myself included.

Emboldened by my earlier success, I quickly stake out a claim in the prep area and begin sorting my al dente Delta 2. The rush to get back up the hill has made for a rather jumbled mess, costing valuable time in getting kitted up.

Ballasted tandem.

A little plucky today.

In the meantime a tandem is set up, using a single helper as ballast. The tandem master pulls the wing up and the passenger is plucked a foot in the air. The TM maintains control of the wing and sets the passenger back on the ground. One thing that has consistently impressed me here at St.Vincent is the kiting ability of the TMs. On launch the wind is a gusting mix of west and north - typically west at flag and wing height, north some point in between. It is not uncommon to have a wall built, pull up, have the wing turn 90 degrees, then snap 90 degrees back on heading. Failure to control the wing through this process often times results in being dragged south over the back of launch to the top landing area.

Conditions have picked up considerably from this mornings scratch fest. A jaunt up the mountain and over the ridge to the main landing zone is easily within reach.

Some assistance from Stuart and I am ready to go for round two.

Another uneventful launch is followed by a series of beats from launch to the northern end of the 1 km long ridge, maintaining above launch height in the aggregate valley wind and thermals.

This trip has provided an amazing opportunity to work on ridge soaring in blended dynamic/thermic conditions, especially with respect to getting in close to terrain. Being able to differentiate between the two while still keeping mind to the gaggle of tandems is not a trivial task but critical if one wishes to leave the ridge and try for Dormilluse.

Sufficiently high above launch (for my liking anyways), I move to the bowl demarking the base of the mountain. Moving back to the bowl is not without risk, as the slope is shallow and the bailout is a very long glide into wind. Failure to quickly find a climb out means a tree skimming race back to the ridge with hope of at least enough of a climb to eek out a top landing. Despite these concerns, I place faith in my ability to scratch and dive in at launch height.

It takes little time to spot movement in the trees leading up the gentle slope towards the bowl. I approach and feel the wing being pulled in by the air. A flat figure eight is all that is needed for this conveyer belt of air to take me up along the slope with it.

The air reaches a high point and releases.

In the meantime, an Ozone tandem (Chris) and Advance Sigma (Andy) catch my attention above and to the west. I hook into their thermal from below and climb up to them. While flying with partners is advantageous in finding lift, it can work against the pilot when lift is found. Working a thermal alone only requires attention on the feel of the lift, adjusting course based solely on the thermal.

On the other hand, flying in a pair+ requires attention with respect to sharing the thermal and not hogging a core especially if relatively narrow. This can mean lift is not capitalized upon as efficiently as possible, leading to a situation where a lower lone glider thermals up in the core to a pair of wings. Such as in my case now.

Before reaching Chris and Andy I slip out into weaker lift and try blending into their left hand turn.

Chris, the guide, on tandem.

Andy on the Sigma.

Trying to blend in.

My attempts to tighten up again on the core while level with them appears to cause some frustration as they head southwest shortly there after.

They leave under a welcoming blue sky.

Meanwhile, what was a peak backgrounded by blue sky is now clouded in and getting dark rather quickly. The shadow of this quickly materializing beast pushes upwind into the middle of the valley. A glance across the lake to the sister peak, Morgonne, reveals a similar situation unfolding.

Two minutes later...

Base dropping.

Time to skeddale.

A straight line shot away from the peak and I begin setting up an approach to land. The wind, as expected, is coming up the valley from the lake at between 20 and 30 kph. The upwind side gets rather thermic this time of day and one could spend quite a bit of time getting bounced around without losing any height if they were to dwell there. So I set up just downwind of the lz and creep in.

A right hand turn onto final just above tree top height. A pair of mild chirps from the vario.

Nice straight in approach.

WHACK!

Nothing says Wake up! like a riser in the face.

The left side of the harness drops with an immediate 90 degrees left turn and the start of a dive.

A sharp jab of the left brake, a touch of right, and as best a right weight shift as I can do hanging out of the harness. The dive stops, I ease the wing back onto final, and land.

Lets try this again.

Wheh.

Word on the ground was that it looked like a 50% left asymmetric collapse. Up high, a non issue. On final, a perfect way to get ones pulse racing.

In anycase, daylight remains. Pack it up and jump in the bus for round three.

A Hat Trick (XC Course Day 5 - Part 1)

Mistral, the saga continues. So we are going to ... you guessed it, St.Vincent.

The previous days top to bottom proved to be a decent confidence booster for the crew, helping them realize that the LZ of death can be conquered. In my case, it opens up the possibility of making a few more higher risk/return plays in pushing out and trying to score a big climb, as opposed to playing it conservative and staying close to the ridge.

Upon arrival, the sky bluer and the winds lighter than I expected. Looks like something more than sled runs and gale hanging is in store for our intrepid crew. We are informed that the upper winds are still too strong with the Mistral and that we have to remain in the area of launch and the peak to the south, Dormillouse.

Most of the crew had taken the chance to go via ferrata in the morning, meaning those of us who remained behind would have the hill to ourselves (and the locals/tandems). Having kitted up and about to lay out on launch, the conditions look a little on the light side. But the promise of immediate retrieval if I happen to bomb out is encouragement enough to go for it. One of the crew is already in the air and maintaining, as are the local tandems.

Off I launch with little drama...

...straight into a flush cycle.

The air that had been previously heated (providing lift) up the ridge was now cooling (sinking). The flush affects the entire ridge, drilling down not just newbies to the site like myself, but the tandems as well. Ten gliders, all at about the same height, now have to contend with where to land.

Flushed wings.

The bailout LZ?

Starting to look a whole lot smaller, especially with no air traffic control.

Chris had mentioned during one morning briefing that if one finds themselves in a situation where everything shuts down (such as a flush), a change in gears is needed.

Do not focus on the landing, for you will go down.

Do not focus on climbing, for you will burn up altitude trying to chase false leads.

Focus on survival. Take the 0 m/s to 0.1m/s thermals and milk them for everything they are worth. The secret is to buy time for the flush to finish, the valley to reset, and the thermals to start anew. The longer you can hold at your current altitude, the better the chance that you will be high enough to capitalize on the next cycle.

Survival.

Taking that advice and really focusing on the techniques taught by Kelly the year previous, I position myself over the high tension power lines separating launch and the bailout. The towers are going to be good triggers for what residual heat is crawling up from the lakeshore fields and odds are that the lines will be warmer than the cool mountain air surrounding them. A slow flat turn of ever widening radius.

Eventually I come across an area of zeros.

Just what the proverbial doctor ordered.

One by one the tandems slide off the mountain and below me. Instead of the bailout, they fly further west for a cleared field next to a collection of tents. I had heard of a second unofficial LZ used by pilots who were camping near the lake - I gather this is it.

Amongst the tandems are a handful of solo pilots, most of whom head straight for the bailout. One breaks away from the group and tries searching around the area near me. Another soon follows. But their carve is far to steep, their movements too aggressive. As Kelly has said, 'match the air' -> if the air is gentle, be gentle and if the air is aggressive, be aggressive. Today a very soft hand is needed. My counterparts must not have gotten that lesson.

Scratch one wing.

Scratch two wings.

The zeros eventually form into 0.1m/s and 0.2m/s climbs. Spotting a bird circling to the west, I slowly crab/crawl my way too it, making sure to have at least a 0.0 m/s for most of my turn. The bird is what I understand to be a Kite, a local bird of prey.

I try to match turn direction with the Kite, but it quickly does a turn reversal, a pair of turns, and flies off. Guess it wasn't too impressed with my technique.

Climbing out and starting to clear.

But the climb, oh the climb. A few minutes later I am back above launch height with the sky to myself. No tandems, no solos. To have a soar-able St.Vincent les Forts to yourself to a rare gift.

Above launch and alone.

How did I enjoy it?

By promptly sinking back out.

A call from Dave on the radio indicates he has spotted me, has retrieved the remainder of the crew, and if I can set down in the tandem LZ there is an immediate ride back up the hill.

I reply on the radio, 'Don't count me out just yet.' Thankfully he didn't understand that I was going for low save #2, because it failed.

A sharp right turn at tree top height over the road and I put down in the tandem field, throw the unpacked glider into the middle row of the van and we charge back up for round two.

The van is waiting, get on the ground ... NOW!

From the time the flush started till the time I landed was nearly an hour, an hour of survival.

Mistral returnth (XC Course Days 3 and 4)

Full on Mistral, so not much to report for these days.

Tuesday, after seeing a hang glider actually park itself above launch, the day was decided to be more or less a wash.

Wednesday, a midday lull allowed for folk to try their hand at nil wind launches from St.Vincent. The alpine and tow trained folk were all gung ho while the coastal soarers showed some understandable apprehension.

 Not a lot of room after laying out.

Abort and become a hood ornament.

Afterwards we thought ourselves gifted by the gods to happen upon a magical tree bearing a PG harness as fruit, but subsequently realized it was in fact a carnivorous flora with a taste for PG pilots. Pilot was fine and extracted quickly.

The carnivorous beast doesn't want to give up the pilot.

Fishin' in a gale (XC Course Days 1 and 2)

Strong south with a taste of east.

Looks like we won't be going far today, neither in distance to launch nor distance post launch.

Atop Chabre the wind is whistling through the scrubby trees, varying from 15 to 25 kph. Ridge soarable if one keeps mind not to get blown over the spineback comprising Chabre. 

Off in the distance is the 'fish', the main lz for the site. The general rule of thumb: if one gets below the clear start of continuous vegetation demarking the lower extent of launch, push out towards the fish. Not only to err on the side of caution, but often times thermals will trigger from lower changes in topography and thus not hug the terrain all the way up.

 Off in the distance, the 'fish' lz. The closer clearing, while tempting, is inadvisable.

The first flight is a simple back and forth on the ridge as the winds are fairly strong out of the south east. A few times I would look down at the ground 20m or so below and notice I am not really moving. One of the drivers Stuart, who was given the opportunity to fly with us, pipes up on the radio that he is heading towards the fish. When someone with 5 to 6 times the experience of myself says they are going to land, especially when they haven't had much chance to fly, I pay attention. So I follow him out and by the time I am over the fish, I am more or less parked. I am definitely light on this wing.

We stand down for the remainder of the day. Dinner, the Vietnamese place in Laragne. The evenings entertainment - Stuart saying, 'boissons' to place a drink order and the server convinced that he was trying to order 'poissons' (fish).
 

The next day.

Conditions are ok, but expected to deteriorate quickly with an approaching cold front (and resultant storms). The guides keep us local as there is little point in driving across the department when we will need to be done by the afternoon. The air was more active than the day previous, to the point that I am able to surf the gorge just south of the lz. Definitely going to see storms this afternoon.

Back up the hill we go.

I stick my nose out of the van and decide to leave my bag where it is. The meteo winds have picked up with some degree of gustiness. But what has my attention are the clouds approaching from the southwest. My surfing the gorge on the bubbles of lift means there is a lot of heated air in the valley just waiting for a way to break the inversion keeping that air earth bound. The clouds with their thermal feed is just that conduit. Rising air is moving air and moving air is wind. When those clouds reach us, launch is going to blow out something fierce.

Dave, one of the owners of Allez-Up and the local weather guru, mentions it is borderline too strong. But folk are pulling bags out anyways. Most of my fellow course participants are coastal/flatland fliers with minimal mountain experience and it is showing.

One of the Brits is laid out, clipped in, and rearing to go.

The cloud shadows just reach the southern edge of the valley.

"You might want to unclip", I say to the pilot.

No response.

The cloud line? Mid valley.

"You really might want to unclip."

Still nothing.

The cloud line reaches the base of the mountain. The wind starts to pick up, growing in intensity.

The Brits fights to keep his whipping wing grounded and under control. The near gale continues. A minute passes and everything thing calms down, slightly. The guides tell everyone to pack it up.

Another day, another lesson.

Leave no man behind (XC Course Day 0)

Spent.

That is the general vibe I get from the campground this morning. The Chabre Open has closed and folk are slowly pulling themselves free from bed to begin packing. The organizers start collecting up left over forms and swag*.

Having packed up and turned in the key for my room, I sit outside on the patio awaiting Chris and Foram from Escape XC. Even though the folk from Escape should have a day off with pilots in transit to Laragne, Chris has offered to give us a tour of the LZs to the west and even provide some impromptu guiding in the air.

First we need to drop our non flying kit off at the residences of Allez-Up, a local B&B/Gite rental specializing in catering to PG and HG pilots. The majority of the pilots are staying in the main house while a pair of us have use of the 'cabin', a small two building outcropping. One building is a single bedroom while the other has the kitchen, bathroom and a mezzanine/loft sleeping area. The loft was exactly what I was hoping to score when Escape was arranging the accommodations.

Sleeping loft looking towards the kitchen.

Sleeping area, looking back from the ladder.

Looking down at the kitchen.

Kitchen, bathroom door to the left under the ladder/stairs.

Once rooms are sorted, a quick briefing and round table introductions are held. There are a pair of courses being run concurrently - a single week, that I and three others are on, and a two week with the remaining eight pilots. With this number of pilots it would be difficult to keep track of who is who in the air, especially for pilots not familiar with the guides wings.

Foram to the rescue.

A laminated card with color correct wing make and model photos along with the pilots name below. Some velcro tape to latch it to a flight deck and voila, instant IFF. Brilliant.

Initial details sorted, we fill the van along with the LandRover and head west. A succession of stops at each of the official LZs, suggestions on where lift can be found along the valley and, most importantly, where we really do not want to find ourselves low.

The winds are north west, which align rather well with the launch at Bergies, near the village of Sederon. A quick climb up the backside of the mountain reveals a small observatory overlooking a wide alpine meadow. Ample amounts of room to layout.

Getting ready

Now ready. Observatory in the background.

Foram launches first, soaring back and forth in front of launch. A few of the pilots follow suit, then Chris, myself, and the remainder. One of the crew, Doug, manages to quickly climb out and starts his trek east towards Ribiers. The remainder of us try to soar up the windward side of the slope with the hope of catching a wind torn leeward side forming thermal. Varying degrees of success, but all ending in the same way - piling back into the vehicles for another go. The second attempt proves more successful all around with a call from Chris that he was at 1450 meters and starting to cross the small valley to the Sederon horseshoe.

 

Ridge soaring Bergies

The scree slope along the northwest edge of bowl was into sun and wind and should be a reliable thermal generator. And it was, for everyone else. Bad timing on my part coupled with a low point of arrival equals scratch-fest. Diving in deeper means surrendering the chance of an easy retrieve, but how does one learn if one does not risk?

Scratching, a way of life.

 A 'vache'/outlanding. The nice field to the right? Verboten.

The risk doesn't pay off this time and a 'vache' it is. After a decent walk around the fenced crop/livestock fields, I arrive in Sederon and put out my fifth location update. No response. Check the cell phone. No signal. Looks like I need to get clear of the valley to be able to get a hold of retrieve. I begin the hike south towards the main valley leading back to Laragne. Half an hour later the van finds me and ferries me to the 'Argentinian' Bar.  I was starting to get concerned  I might be forgotten and spending a night sleeping in my wing trying to hitch back to Ribiers, but lone behold the organizers leave no man behind.

* Speaking of swag, XCMag was one of the sponsors of the Chabre and had a large stack of the 'Driver may be distracted by fluffy white clouds' bumper stickers sitting out. Come Saturday morning that pile was noticeably smaller and my backpack a bit heavier. So if you don't have an XC mag subscription, are in the WCSC, and want one - leave a comment at the bottom.

The 'Happy' Gaggle (Chabre Open Days 5 and 6)

Task Day 3.

Sunrise.

The air is warm and dry today, haze enveloping the hills. Textbook inversion conditions. The question is, how strong and long lived an inversion?

Fast forward 6 hours.

On launch the task committee is taking a little longer than normal. The conditions are putting a hitch in the planned task. Plan, discuss, re-plan. Eventually, arrival at the final destination - consensus.

The task is posted. An ambitious one, running from the Chabre launch site to the far north-east corner of the turn points.

An ambitious task.

Jocky finishes the general task briefing and moves to the northern side of launch for the 'special needs' briefing (a walk through of the task for the newbies such as myself, though from the turnout it appears everyone is a newbie today).

Just because we made the ESS and goal cylinders the same size doesn't mean you can race each other into a crater. We trust you to be responsible pilots. Not monkeys. This isn't the PWC.

 

Wind tech after wind tech is sent out, all maintaining just above launch. Looks like the inversion still reigns supreme. One, Chris, manages to climb out but not very high - maybe 1600m. It is enough to set a launch open time and a shortened window (1 hour) is declared to ensure everyone gets off quickly. Once the window opens, a deluge of launching pilots we have not. Most are holding and waiting, hoping for stronger conditions. The few that do go early suffer the same fate as the wind techs, boating back and forth in front of launch.

 

The trickle continues and we have a virtual gaggle right in front of launch, most soaring, some thermaling, others indecisively alternating between both. It is only a matter of time before the window is closed.

 

And lone behold, a call across the radio - 'Launch is closed'.

 

Time is needed to clear out the building rats nest of wings trying to avoid being swallowed by the 'fish' (the bailout LZ shaped like, you guessed it, a fish).

 

After 5 minutes, launch reopens. And is subsequently closed. Re-open. Closed. Re-open.

 

15 minutes shy of the end of launch, I am ready to go. I was none too keen on joining the repeated swell of rats nest early, but it looks like most pilots are away leaving the 'Happy' gaggle to boat around launch.

 

During a comp, there are three distinct phases of gaggle. The serious competition pilots will often launch first, get up and away quickly - this is the first, the comp gaggle. The second gaggle, what I would call the main gaggle, is made up of XC pilots who are here to learn and improve their flying, the competition aspect is secondary. The third group are pilots who have just learned how to thermal, have little to no XC experience, and are here to have fun and maybe achieve a personal best flying distance in the double digit range.

 

This last group is the 'Happy' gaggle, also known as the 'WOO-ho!' gaggle. And it is the 'Happy' gaggle that I launch into.

 

Some think they are thermaling, but are coring sink more often than not. Others think they are ridge soaring, but are not tight enough in and sinking out.  Others still are attempting to test the passive safety of their wings going over the back a bit on the low side. For all of these differences one thing unifies this group, they are having the time of their lives.

 

Oh ... they share one other characteristic - they are destined to frustrate any and every attempt on my part to climb out and get away. 

 

After launching, a trio decide to stick on my tail as I push several kms down the ridge. If I turn and backtrack, they follow. I try to figure 8 in what feels to be a bubble about to break loose, they follow. I push out and start working lift, they follow.

 

Eventually I hook a core and put the wing on its tip in an attempt to shake my pursuers (most newer pilots are notorious for not banking hard enough in a climb and will frequently get pushed out by the stronger rising air).

 

It works.

 

That immediate issue resolved, lets rewind to the debrief the night before. Jocky mentions you want to keep an eye out for rapid movement around you. The source is typically a wing turning fast in a strong climb. If you see this, go there.

 

Return to the present.

 

The more talented members of this gaggle have some degree of thermaling ability and if they have launched sufficiently early enough, will already be well above the ridge. Add this height to Jockys advice and my attempt to climb out.

 

The result looked something like this:

 

 

Guess which is me and which is the 'Happy' Gaggle.

 

The tailing trio below me, the herd fast approaching from above. Without going into the details of what transpired, I started looking at my hook knife then looking at the lines of the other gliders, looking at hook knife, then lines of other gliders...

 

The lesson taken from the experience - if it is even remotely stay up-ble and the hill/comp has a fair number of newer pilots, launch as early as possible and by all means avoid the 'Happy' gaggle in the air like the proverbial plague (as opposed to on the ground, where their excitement post personal best 5km mini-XC is a wonderful thing to witness).

 

The following day was a write off due to storms. The awards ceremony and wing raffle was enjoyed by all, some a bit more than others with the noise of partying ending with scant few hours of darkness remaining. 

 

The comp is done, onto the XC course.