Valle de Bravo with the Gin Explorer: Part 4.

Note: The FlyinOrange has moved to: flyinorange.blog

Continued from Part 3.

Finally the opportunity to do what I came here for - to fly.

Marko, having given our respective kits a once over, provides a run down of the day:

• Wait for a respectable mass of pilots to launch and watch to see if many are able to climb out. If not, wait until either the launch conditions start to test our comfort level or some of the herd begins to transition from the house thermal out front to the rock face of El Penon. 
• Once launched, immediately turn left to catch the tail of lift from the thermal kicking off from the foothills below. 
• Drive into wind and join the gaggle. 
• Once above 2800m (for the high EN-Bs), consider transitioning and aim to hit the south west edge of El Penon. Additional turns above 2800 nets additional options.
• If no climb is found right away upon arrival, soar the rock face. 
• Once above the rock, move onto The Wall. 
• Ridge soar up above the lip to then thermal and get enough height to jump onto Crazy Thermal Place. 
• It goes without saying, if someone finds a climb within glide while soaring - race to them. There is no shame in pimping off of other pilots.
• Once everyone is above Crazy Thermal Place, we will play follow the leader to learn the XC building blocks of flying Valle (especially the interior of the Mesa that The Wall and Crazy Thermal Place form part of).

Sounds like a plan.

Waiting for conditions to strengthen.

11AM. Word given to start getting ready. As we close in on noon, expect conditions to become ... challenging.

One never before flown Gin Explorer.

1130. Laid out and ready to give it a try. First pull up turns into an abort due to a cross gust. Assistance from Marko's retrieve driver enables the Explorer to be reset for a second attempt.

Second pull up is good and we're off.

Looking good.

And so starts the first XC of the trip.

Following Marko's instructions, I turn quickly left and catch my first climb.

First climb looking down at launch.

Stair stepping up the climb, I gain enough height to join the gaggle thermalling out front.
Kelly's rules of thermal etiquette are fore front in my mind.

Slotting into the climbing gaggle.

The climb topped out, time for the transition to El Penon.

Next stop - El Penon.

Arriving at El Penon, I begin to work in and then away from the face to locate the lift band. Denis Cortella's suggestion on how to safely fly close into a ridge (weight shift away and apply inside brake to counter the turn) is going to see some application today.

Getting cozy.

Adding meters. Just ahead is Ignacio on a 777 Pawn.

Topping the rock along with Alasdair on a Nova Mentor (I think a 4).

To The Wall we go.

Al and I cruise along The Wall, about to discover the 'G-Spot'.

Arriving at The Wall, we continue to follow Marko's instructions and set up to ridge soar until we crest the lip and locate a climb. Along the way the legendary thermal trigger known as the 'G-Spot' makes its presence known by awarding Al with a frontal collapse and myself with a right asymmetric.

Once above the ridge, eyes are keen to locate any hint someone has found a climb.

Cruisin' for a climb.

Less than a minute passes and a climb is found.

Xiaoting (top) on the Air Design Rise, Al (middle) on the Nova Mentor, and Ignacio (bottom) on the 777 Pawn.

While we begin to work the thermal, Marko above us spots that one of our crew needs a hand. While still in a carve, Marko pulls big ears and 'cores' away + down. This is the first time I have seen an instructor or guide abandon a thermal to help one of the students struggling to locate lift. I cannot overstate the positive impression I am left as a result of this 'sacrifice'.

Marko (above) pulling ears to drop down and lend a hand.

While Marko helps out below, those of us who have crested the climb move onto Crazy Thermal Place to go into a holding pattern.

Al (left), another wing, and I approaching Crazy Thermal Place.

Continued in Part 5.

I'm all about cloudbase, 'bout cloudbase, no sink out: Part 3

Clear of the cloud surrounding launch, Dean leads me southward to our next climb - a growing Cu (Cumulus - puffy white clouds typically formed by condensation of air rising within a thermal).

Simon is low on the mountain to the north but will swing around to the west and play catch up. If his 2+ hour scratch-fest/low save bonanza flight the previous day is any indication of his abilities - I am sure he will be with us shortly.

Dean spots a cloud ahead that is being worked by a visiting French pilot, Eric, on a Nova Mentor (I think). It appears the rock quarry is working well today.

Dean just ahead spots Eric climbing under a cloud forming off of the rock quarry.

Beeline on over and join Eric's climb. At base, Eric proceeds on while Dean and I continue to climb.

The quarry feeding the cloud.

Then Dean on the radio, "We need to leave now." (with emphasis on the now).

Dean explains that the cloud Eric is heading to looks like it might start to decay soon and we may miss our chance to stone hop it to the next cloud forming beyond.

Dean follows the explanation with, "I'm going on bar."

Hint, Hint. Try to keep up.

Shift gears - its go time. Hammer the bar and grab the C's!

Thus far the speed, glide, and climb on the Carrera Plus has been phenomenal. I've been able to keep pace with Dean on hands up glide the whole way here (he is on Novas X-Alps CCC classed wing). But on bar we see the trade off of passive safety on my part for performance on his. At half bar I am sinking like a stone in comparison to his glide. This is a gamble, do I sacrifice height to try to catch the last bit of the thermal still forming the cloud or do I play it safe and hold onto as much altitude as possible by going hands up without bar - keeping altitude in reserve to find perhaps another climb that may pop up nearby?

Eric and Dean above. I'm late to the party.

Ease off to quarter bar. The glide flattens to something a bit more acceptable. But Dean is pulling away and still on a flatter glide. He arrives well ahead and above where I am and joins into Eric's climb. It doesn't take long before Eric is off again.

Dean continues his left hand circle and I join from well below. I lose sight of Dean as my climb starts to pick up - it appears the thermal source has sufficiently recharged for another go. Dean radios something about cloud suck. Keeping in mind the 45 degree rule, I eye the southern edge of our reborn Cu and edge my carve towards it. Carving in and out of the core, I keep watch for Dean. He radios he is clear of the cloud and looking at our next climb ahead.

Found him, moving on.

Gliding down wind and along the main road connecting GV to Caratinga, the dictator of our day comes into view from behind the growing and decaying Cu's ...

See what I see?

The radiating gust front from this emergent Cb (Cumulonimbus or CuNim) is causing Cu's to pop up in a circle around it. It appears to be 30+ km's away and not yet a concern - but needs to be watched carefully from here on out.

With an eye to the Cb, I see what I suspect is our next climb - over the hills to the left (east) of the main road. Dean mentioned earlier that the NE wind is typically continuous here and any thermal source scoured by it has little opportunity to form a meaningful climb. The trick in GV is to try to find sources that are leeward of the wind, behind the hills - they will be sheltered and given a decent chance to coalesce. Especially if one is looking for a low save - expect to find it in the lee (and all the fun that comes with lee-side flying).

Dean makes a good pace towards the cloud - altitude gives options (including bar), a lack of it on the other hand limits what you can do. My being lower means I need to conserve altitude and not risk going bar, losing height and not having enough to capitalize on the climb (or worse yet, end up low and arrive with the climb having expended itself).

All this time, Simon has been chasing us - low and on bar. He will comment afterwards that he was frequently having to go half bar to keep up with us. Simon has been flying the Sigma 9 mid to upper end weight (flatland UK flying) while I have been running the Carrera Plus a few kgs over the top end (Western Canada mountain flying). The likely reason for the speed difference. On top of this Dean will eventually mention that the C+'s glide was quite impressive - I was able to keep pace with him when we were hands up but not on bar. So if bar performance is not a critical factor in wing selection, the Plus appears to be able to run with some of the 'bigger boys'. That said it is still a 6.3 AR wing - if you have to ask if you are ready for it, you have already answered your own question -> probably not.

I finally arrive below the Cu Dean has since marked with a climb only to find out I've missed the boat - the thermal has petered out and the cloud is beginning to decay. I doubt bar would have made much difference.

When one can see sun through the cloud,
it is likely one will not have a cloud (or climb) for much longer.

Another switch in gears - survival mode. I need to stay up until the climb can re-establish itself. I radio to Dean my situation and altitude. He suggests try looking for climbs off of the nearby radio tower (towers tend to be be good triggers) -> the leeside of the hill the tower is situated on has been baking for a while, it is bound to give something off. It is just a question if I will be high enough to be able make much use of it.

Concurrently I start scanning nearby hills for signs of power lines. Have multiple landing option we were told (due to the power lines) and the best way to have multiple options is to start looking up high. A couple of hills look viable. The reason for the hills is three fold - power lines will be easier to spot, the power lines will likely be less plentiful, and there will not be any standing water (due to the abnormally high amount of rain we've rx'd recently). Basically an attempt to avoid drowning and getting fried.

Getting lower and looking for landing options.

While scanning the hilltop to my right, I note that the Cb from before is slowly inching its way towards us. Even if I get a climb back to base, it is going to be a struggle to stay ahead of this thing given my progress so far.

Getting closer. Can clearly see the rain below it. Guessing it might be topping out at 20+K feet?

Rapid movement catches my attention. A pair of raptors of some sort, one chasing the other. Then a Swallow/Swift like bird darting around. This is a gift if there ever was one. I proclaim on the radio, "I see a Swift!" The only reason a Swift would be up here is if a thermal is carrying bugs up for the Swift to eat ... and any thermal strong enough to carry bugs is strong enough for a low save.

Where I spotted the Swift -
downwind of the thermal source baking in the lee below a radio tower (on top of the right most hill).

And a glorious low save it is - even the Uburu join in. A congratulations comes from the retrieve truck below. Scratching and low saves are the modus operandi of one such as I who flies the ground and rarely the sky.

An Uburu joins in.

On the way back up I get a better view of the approaching Cb, noting the rain has enveloped the higher ground to the west and is making its way towards the river. I check my distance from launch on GliderHUD, draw an imaginary arc from the hill to where the storm is coming from and make that my imaginary line in the sand. 15km. Be on the ground before the Cb reach that line is my plan.

Draw arc from hill 15 kms away on right around to point across river and ahead of the storm on the left.
Be on ground before storm reaches that point.

During this time, Simon has finally caught up to Dean and both have moved another 5 kms down the road from my current location.

I try catching up with them but start getting hammered in sink. Back tracking to lift is becoming less and less of an option with the Cb getting nearer. I get on the radio and indicate I am thinking about calling it a day - I will be unable to stay ahead of the storm.

Getting bigger and closer - roughly 20 km out - time to call it.

Dean radios back that Simon has landed and that Dean will come back my way to land as well.

Landing options? Settle on a hill overlooking a farm that has a dirt road out to the highway. Fly two passes over it to look for lines - nothing, just some fencing. I can work with it.

Another side hill landing.

Dean settles for the pasture below and sets down shortly after myself. Pack up the kit, a bit of over/under involving regular and electric fencing, and make my way down the dirt road to settle under the shade of a tree. 10 minutes pass, Steve appears with Simon. We load up the truck and head back to GV.

Half way there - the gust front from the storm hits. Rain shortly thereafter.

Our best day thus far and a wonderful sampler of what GV has to offer. The potential of this place is not lost on me.

Your truly: On glide.

Onto: "A Tribute of Wind and Water"

I'm all about cloudbase, 'bout cloudbase, no sink out: Part 2

I have a good feeling about today.

I hop into the launch slot just vacated by Dean. Steve lends a hand getting the wing sorted out and keeps an eye on the cycles. Flip on the Contour and watch the pilots ready to go to my right. Two pull up and go. 

Ready to go. Steve watching the wind and nearby wings. Simon getting ready.

"Looks good", from Steve. 

Let these two get clear.
I give the two that just got away a few extra seconds to decide on a direction.
Once it's clear they are not going to intersect with my path, I bring the wing up, give it a check and go.

Airborne.

I watch the pair to my right circle, but they are not climbing. The cloud over launch is darkest and thickest just downwind of the Cauldron - not downwind of here.  The Cauldron is where I need to be.

Away. Decision time. Follow them or play a hunch?

To the Cauldron. Hmm, that Cu looks like kind of big. Will keep eye on it.

Once in, it takes no time to lock into the climb that a trio of gliders above me are using.

Banking it up and getting ready to hold on.

Even with the moisture in the air, the ride is a contrast to flying everywhere else around GV. The thermals are rough and sharp edged - much like spring flying back home but without the climb rate. That said, 3.0 m/s is a godsend compared to the sub 1.0 m/s I've been finding everywhere else here. Bank up, hold on, and cloud base (coupled with escape from the mountain) is assured.

Sorry Simon.

Simon launched just after I did and now joins in the climb from below. Looking up I notice everyone is going in the opposite turn direction from me, so a turn reversal is in order. Should have noticed that before starting the carve.

Uburu -
always a good sign you are in the right place at the right time,
unless there is a dead cow directly below

The vultures come over and join the climb from above. Steve mentioned you know this is a good climb when the birds join you.

I'm all about cloudbase...

60 seconds later. 

Cloudbase.

And still climbing.

I am not sure where everyone is and hunting for them in the white room seems like a particularly unwise course of action. More so when Dean is flying a mostly white Nova X-Alps glider. This provides some food for thought for a GliderHUD feature that could use either BLE or Wifi P2P to link to a cell phone and then onto a Leonardo Live like server that can can relay live location information for a friend or two (or your guide in my case) which in turn can be displayed as a bearing and distance.

Scooting eastward, I hop on the radio to announce my location and that I am at base. Dean replies he sees me and is to my east - just waiting to see if we need to run further east along the ridge or if a break will appear in the cloud above and behind launch.

Spot the Dean. Hint - cloud, riser.
Word has it Nova will soon offer red. Sounds like a brilliant plan 

Holding pattern. Waiting for a break to turn right and head south.

Dean, "I see an opening." I look right and spot it.

Time to make a break for it.

Turning to face. Key the PTT.

Reply, "Shoot the gap!"

Piece of cake.

Head on a swivel to keep an eye out for fellow pilots. 

AAAAaaannnnddd through.

Clear of the mountain.
Notice that base at the mountain where I am is near the height of the cloud top ahead.
A common occurrence here.

Flatland XC goodness await. 

But for one not so small detail....

Onto Part 3

I'm all about cloudbase, 'bout cloudbase, no sink out: Part 1

I think its Tuesday now - but I am not quite sure. I guess that is a good sign - once one forgets which day of the week it is, they are truly on vacation.

The forecast is starting to resemble what GV is all about - scattered clouds, light winds. There is a risk of a thunderstorm mid afternoon - but that is the norm here in the summer and nothing to really worry about. Where the appearance of a CuNim (Cumulonimbus -> thunder cloud) in the mountains would have pilots frantically looking at LZ options, here there are no terrain features to channel and focus the gust front. An unseen storm in the Rockies could be a threat to pilots a hundred plus kms away, but here, it is normal to be in the air with a solitary CuNim 30 to 50 km behind or to the side. Mind you when they start popping up all around, the usual rules apply - get down fast.

Up top, we settle into the usual wait routine -> cloud base needs to lift.

Left: a visiting American pilot that lives in Australia.
The price/hassle of the tourist visa tends to discourage some Canucks and most Yanks.
Especially with Mexico and Columbia as winter flying alternatives.

Two guesses at the topic of conversation - todays weather or yesterdays flying.

Jawboning is the order of the morning. This stuff will burn off, won't it?

The cloud relents and Dean suggests slowly getting ready. Ever the calm, orderly one Dean is when it comes to getting kit ready. Quite the contrast to back home when the sound of a truck cresting the last climb to launch has one scurrying thinking its loaded full of launch potato students.

Then I spot the Germans starting to gathering their bags. Ain't no fraking way I am getting a repeat of this. Hoist kit, trot quickly on down to the nice part of launch, pull out the wing, and claim my space.

Get word we are switching both flying and retrieve frequencies due to interference the previous flying day. Unfortunately, everyone else heard as well -> we had occurrences in Annecy of other pilots hoping on the tour frequency and trying to tag along as the guides led the group around. There was an attempt to create a more secure implementation of family radio called XMRS (I think) that used spread spectrum. Basically the signal is spread across multiple channels keyed by a code -> Code Division Multiplexing - a trade off of higher user density within the band vs. battery life. The signal is pseudo randomized using a key code (akin to a  channel - except your channel count could be in the billions) and reassembled by the receiver using the same code. No code, no listen in. Not quite encryption, but beyond the ability of a human to scan for and listen in. Sadly it never took off.

Anyways, Dean lays out next to me and Simon next to him. As we get ready, the conversation turns to hydration pouches - Dean pulls his 'Source' out for a gander - the big selling point in his mind is the ease with which it can be cleaned. Will give one a look when I get home - the hose connectors on the Camelback were too big to fit through the hydration line hole in the RangeAir, necessitating pulling the connectors off, threading through the hose, then reattaching (dear Skywalk - what kind of pouch did you test this thing with?). Needless to say I now have a slow water leak - dumping the water prior to retrieve is the short term 'fix'. Benefit number 2 of a front mounted reserve - if your Camelback starts leaking, it won't soak your reserve (Benefit #1 is having your reserve handle in your line of sight rather than fishing for it to one side and below - a byproduct bias from my jumping days with 'look, reach, pull').

Everything sorted. The gent with the blue Ozone Delta 2 walks by, hunting for a spot. Our Deutsch friends have long since claimed the remaining decent space on launch and are sitting on the ground in their harnesses, leaving scraps. Rosetting the wing, I call the Delta 2 over and offer up my slot. Dean will be first off today, so I can just lay out into his space once he is clear.

Hrm. Nil-ish winds. Another forward.

That said, I have a good feeling about today - I think we might actually go XC.

Onto Part 2

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.

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.