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.