This is the last in a four-part series of posts on An Excellent Soaring Adventure.
Glider rating in hand, it was time to spread my wings to explore and experiment. The first step was to diversify into a new glider. Throughout training we used a Schweizer SGS 2-33, the 2 representing two place and the 33 being the model number, built from the 1960's through 1980. Very forgiving, stout, and with relatively good performance (23:1 glide ratio), these high wing trainers were used by the U.S. Air Force for primary flight training until 2002, and can be found in glider ports around the country.
The Schweizer Aircraft Company also built a single seat glider called the SGS 1-26. It was much smaller, lighter, and just looked faster. In fact, it was not faster in airspeed - all the critical speeds were the same as the 2-33, but it was more nimble. It was described by my instructor as a sports car compared to a station wagon. In my briefing, he assured me the transition would be easy. A good thing because, for the first time in my flying experience, I would not have an instructor beside or behind me in flight to acquaint me with the aircraft.
The little yellow bombshell was a blast. Aside from the tighter fit, the only thing to get adjusted to, given that the controls were so light, was the tendency to over control. The first take off taught me that it didn't take much to get this glider to respond. In six flights over two days, I spent four hours in the air, in a couple of flights climbing above 7,000 feet, or 3,500 feet of net gain.
The background noise you hear in this video is the wind and lift against the glider. It sounds loud because of the iPhone modulation, but I can hear myself talk easily, without any noise cancelling headset. I would have stayed up there all day, and could have had the thermals packed a little more punch or been a little more forgiving of someone trying to learn how to optimize their lift.
With that relative success in transition, I looked to another higher performance glider I might experience, asking if I could get checked out in a two seat, T-tail Grob 103. Two of those craft had been pulled out along the apron all week as if displayed for temptation. It worked.
It looked faster and is faster, with a red line speed of 145 knots. Aerobatic qualified, it has a 57 foot wingspan and a glide ration of 38:1, more than 1-1/2 times greater than the trainers. Tom's instructor, also named Tom, agreed to introduce me and take it for a spin. Literally, as it turned out.
When I asked what to expect in the way of differences, Tom responded that it was still just an airplane, with ailerons and a rudder, so no different than any other glider. He was dramatically understating the reality. Within moments after lift off, which he managed, he handed the controls over to me. Soon we were fishtailing and bobbing behind the towplane as I heavy handed the controls of those large wings. Eventually stabilizing things and performing a normal release, I lost it again in the turn out. Use of the rudders was critical. It simply wouldn't turn without them. Movements needed to be subtle and highly coordinated. I spent the better part of the next hour trying to come to terms with the gliders sensitivity and exaggerated performance. The heck with trying to find a thermal, I was too busy trying to find equilibrium. After alternating the controls between us as I tried to calm down between wrestling matches, I suggested to Tom that my concentration and tension was becoming counterproductive and perhaps we should head back. Since we had gained a fair bit of altitude, he took over and immediately put the glider into a dive to run to the next ridge. Soon we were cruising at 90 knots, 30 knots faster than the maneuvering speed of the trainers.
That's when he thought he'd have some fun and show me a new part of the gliding experience. Suddenly we were twisting, climbing, dropping, spinning and swirling (I don't think that's the official term) through the sky as he performed some simple aerobatics. Then he spied friend Tom on the ground at the airport walking his glider back to the launch area. Instructor/crazy pilot Tom aimed for the center of the airport as he dove to the ground. Just above the runway he pulled out of his dive and headed straight up into the air, over the top, swooping back down toward the runway in what I recognized as a downwind leg. Except this downwind was no where near pattern altitude. We did a low pass down the runway at high speed, saving enough energy to climb about 150 feet at the end of the runway, falling over the top in a 180 turn, and heading back down for landing. I could see friend Tom's mouth agape as we used what remaining energy there was to come to a perfect stop next to his glider. As instructor Tom climbed out of the back seat he said to anyone listening, "I told him not to land like that ... I need a drink."
He had demonstrated the capabilities of a high performance glider, which was a completely different world than the one I had been in for the last nine days. It convinced me I had a lot yet to learn, and a lot of work to do before getting to the level that I would feel comfortable with that kind of performance in my hands.
On the last day of our visit, I choose to experience yet another glider, the Schweizer 1-36 Sprite. A later model than the 26, but very similar, it had ten feet more in wingspan and a 31:1 glide ratio - so a bit higher in performance. Because everyone was quite busy, and it was in the very back of the packed hangar, I didn't have a chance to fly it until very close to our departure time. After a brief check out, where I was told it took a lighter touch than the 26, I was on my way up behind the tow plane. Releasing at 2000 feet, knowing I didn't have much time, I searched for lift. Just before deciding I didn't have enough altitude to play around anymore and needed to head for the runway, I found a strong burst that took me up 2,000 feet. Using the extra altitude to find the differences in pitch versus speed, and practicing some dutch rolls and turns, time was running out and we headed down.
Or so I thought. Heading in a straight line for the descent area around the pattern, I couldn't get rid of altitude. Everywhere I went, I was climbing. That defied my experience to that point. Where there is lift, right next to it there is sink. That's how weather works. Where was the sink? For the first time since arriving, I found myself searching the sky for sink. When I finally found it, it was very accommodating, with a fast rate of descent. Soon I was at the designated pattern altitude at exactly the right position on downwind, adjacent to the wind sock. Once again I hit lift. By the threshold of the runway, I had not lost one foot. On went the spoilers for all they were worth. Concerned that I would find sink before reaching final, I was hesitant to extend my pattern. Fortunately, because I found that sink on base leg. Turning to final, I found lift again. Common!! Is this how you send off a new glider pilot? Soon, I was high and fast, reaching for my aiming point on the runway. At that point I realized I had focused on my traditional aiming point, used when flying in a craft with a 23:1 glide ratio.
Tom was capturing the video as I sped by him and the other bystanders, hoping to put it on the ground before I ran out of runway. The 1-36 stopped about 200 feet short of the end. It was a safe and controlled landing, but caused the line crew to have to hike to haul the glider back. When I finally made it back to the hangar, Tom was waiting for me with a grin that said, "I have the evidence, and someday I'm going to use it."
Everyone joined in the grief-fest they bestowed on me. "Couldn't get it down, huh?" "Too hot for you, was it?" "We need to charge him for the extra distance."
Not a glamorous ending. Give me one or two more flights and I would have wrestled it to the ground. But alas, all good things come to an end. With all the options in aircraft, cruising grounds, great people, warm weather, and endless sunshine stirring up the thermals, I'll be back.
 |
| SGS 1-26 |
The Schweizer Aircraft Company also built a single seat glider called the SGS 1-26. It was much smaller, lighter, and just looked faster. In fact, it was not faster in airspeed - all the critical speeds were the same as the 2-33, but it was more nimble. It was described by my instructor as a sports car compared to a station wagon. In my briefing, he assured me the transition would be easy. A good thing because, for the first time in my flying experience, I would not have an instructor beside or behind me in flight to acquaint me with the aircraft.
The little yellow bombshell was a blast. Aside from the tighter fit, the only thing to get adjusted to, given that the controls were so light, was the tendency to over control. The first take off taught me that it didn't take much to get this glider to respond. In six flights over two days, I spent four hours in the air, in a couple of flights climbing above 7,000 feet, or 3,500 feet of net gain.
Soaring above Sierra Estrella
The background noise you hear in this video is the wind and lift against the glider. It sounds loud because of the iPhone modulation, but I can hear myself talk easily, without any noise cancelling headset. I would have stayed up there all day, and could have had the thermals packed a little more punch or been a little more forgiving of someone trying to learn how to optimize their lift.
With that relative success in transition, I looked to another higher performance glider I might experience, asking if I could get checked out in a two seat, T-tail Grob 103. Two of those craft had been pulled out along the apron all week as if displayed for temptation. It worked.
It looked faster and is faster, with a red line speed of 145 knots. Aerobatic qualified, it has a 57 foot wingspan and a glide ration of 38:1, more than 1-1/2 times greater than the trainers. Tom's instructor, also named Tom, agreed to introduce me and take it for a spin. Literally, as it turned out.
When I asked what to expect in the way of differences, Tom responded that it was still just an airplane, with ailerons and a rudder, so no different than any other glider. He was dramatically understating the reality. Within moments after lift off, which he managed, he handed the controls over to me. Soon we were fishtailing and bobbing behind the towplane as I heavy handed the controls of those large wings. Eventually stabilizing things and performing a normal release, I lost it again in the turn out. Use of the rudders was critical. It simply wouldn't turn without them. Movements needed to be subtle and highly coordinated. I spent the better part of the next hour trying to come to terms with the gliders sensitivity and exaggerated performance. The heck with trying to find a thermal, I was too busy trying to find equilibrium. After alternating the controls between us as I tried to calm down between wrestling matches, I suggested to Tom that my concentration and tension was becoming counterproductive and perhaps we should head back. Since we had gained a fair bit of altitude, he took over and immediately put the glider into a dive to run to the next ridge. Soon we were cruising at 90 knots, 30 knots faster than the maneuvering speed of the trainers.
 |
| Relief map of our playground - the Sierra Estrella (airport on far right) |
He had demonstrated the capabilities of a high performance glider, which was a completely different world than the one I had been in for the last nine days. It convinced me I had a lot yet to learn, and a lot of work to do before getting to the level that I would feel comfortable with that kind of performance in my hands.
Or so I thought. Heading in a straight line for the descent area around the pattern, I couldn't get rid of altitude. Everywhere I went, I was climbing. That defied my experience to that point. Where there is lift, right next to it there is sink. That's how weather works. Where was the sink? For the first time since arriving, I found myself searching the sky for sink. When I finally found it, it was very accommodating, with a fast rate of descent. Soon I was at the designated pattern altitude at exactly the right position on downwind, adjacent to the wind sock. Once again I hit lift. By the threshold of the runway, I had not lost one foot. On went the spoilers for all they were worth. Concerned that I would find sink before reaching final, I was hesitant to extend my pattern. Fortunately, because I found that sink on base leg. Turning to final, I found lift again. Common!! Is this how you send off a new glider pilot? Soon, I was high and fast, reaching for my aiming point on the runway. At that point I realized I had focused on my traditional aiming point, used when flying in a craft with a 23:1 glide ratio.
Tom was capturing the video as I sped by him and the other bystanders, hoping to put it on the ground before I ran out of runway. The 1-36 stopped about 200 feet short of the end. It was a safe and controlled landing, but caused the line crew to have to hike to haul the glider back. When I finally made it back to the hangar, Tom was waiting for me with a grin that said, "I have the evidence, and someday I'm going to use it."
Not a glamorous ending. Give me one or two more flights and I would have wrestled it to the ground. But alas, all good things come to an end. With all the options in aircraft, cruising grounds, great people, warm weather, and endless sunshine stirring up the thermals, I'll be back.
Comments
Post a Comment