rottydaddy
En-Route
No work scheduled today, and conditions looked pretty good for at least one glider hop. One of the tow pilots said he might be around in the morning, so I threw my tools and a change of clothes (in case I got a service call) and headed down to 47N.
As it turned out, when I arrived at around 11AM he was still at home, and wouldn't be coming to the airport after all. Texted the others; another responded that he too was unable, and another showed up eventually... at around 3PM.
Not that I minded sitting on the clubhouse porch on a fine Spring day; it beats working. Said hello to passing airport bums,watched the traffic come and go, including the heavies that I could hear on the handheld as they talked to Approach on their way into KEWR. I've recently figured out how to set the arrival frequency (for flights from the southwest) with the 47N CTAF as a priority channel, so I can monitor the heavy traffic but transmit only on the CTAF and hear anybody transmitting on that freq. Pretty slick... and I was hoping it would enhance my awareness, as those guys come in quite low over our little drome sometimes as they enter the bottom of the outer tier of the nearby Class B, and the gliders aren't squawking.
It was looking like a pretty nice day, with a light crosswind on the runway, and clouds indicating tight but maybe strong thermals. Warm and sunny, but not too hot... a gorgeous day for flying. JP took his L3 out, then Ron left in the Champ, and the ham-fisted flight students were providing the usual entertainment with their interesting approaches and "Chinglish" radio calls.
At one point I heard the unmistakable drone of multiple large radials headed east, a few miles north of the airport.... couldn't make out what it was, but it was a big bomber or transport, sure enough. That's always a cool thing, even when you can't identify it.
The 1-26 got assembled a couple of weekends ago, and Andrew had already flown it, so all I had to do when he arrived to tow me was go fetch it and do a normal preflight. Hadn't flown at all since October, but I wasn't too concerned about that, even without somebody to run the wing. While I waited for the towplane to taxi out, I laid out the rope, then climbed in to pre-set the harness so I could get ready quickly after attaching the rope. Told him I'd go to about 2500. As we launched, the wind puffed up into a respectable direct crosswind, right on cue.
A bit sloppy on the takeoff, but not scary. My first launch ever in that thing was a lot worse, LOL!! Sure enough, there was pretty big lift on the way out, but very isolated. Andrew likes to really hunt thermals and get you into them, and I found myself releasing a bit higher than I'd planned, because I was leery of getting off in a turn. Silly, I know, but I was playing it extra-safe, not trusting myself 100%.
Before I knew it we were nudging 3000 in strong lift, so I got off, and scrambled to stay in the thermal. It went reasonably well at first , but I will say I was hoping nobody was watching... I was pretty sloppy and hesitant. But after about 20 minutes, I had gained about 800, after abandoning the first thermal and finding a better one, and I was turning well, with the ASI needle just shy of 40 mph, the string centered, and that nice "in the groove" feeling. A 1-26 will seem twitchy until you get locked in; to me, it's like a totally different bird when you don't have it well in hand. Soon I was banking more steeply... the rust was coming off. Lost the thermal, hit some sink, found another... busy busy busy. The thermals were tight, and tricky... the telltale clouds were dissipating, and the wind aloft was breaking things up. I'd get a hold of one, then fly out of it, turn back and find even stronger lift, gain a little, then it would dump me again. I'd fly straight towards another known lift generator, find myself climbing without banking, turn back and it'd be gone. Then sudden, massive sink... it was bewildering, especially with the sky going all blue. There seemed to be a wind gradient somewhere within that altitude block, too, making it even trickier.
Just about the time I realized I'd somehow screwed up the setting on the radio (Approach got awful quiet), I was climbing again in a strong one ("come on, gimme 4000!"), and as the nose swung to to the south, I saw a glint, which quickly became a big two-holer with winglets, coming almost head-on just below my altitude. Interesting how quickly they grow! It was definitely heading to my right, but just barely. I banked harder to show as much glider as possible, then reluctantly flew out of the thermal to the east, because the heavy was not banking, not even a little. Maybe they saw me and saw that I was not a factor, maybe not. This is no time to invoke FARs; it's time to "see and avoid". I could probably have just kept climbing, but I preferred to increase the distance between us.. And it was definitely no time to be fiddling with the radio- I made a note to myself to select the 47N CTAF once the airliner passed, and just leave it there.
We passed at a healthy distance, perpendicular courses and flying away from each other. Then I continued scrabbling around, battling to stay aloft as long as possible. I had been reminding myself lately to look around more, and on this flight I did very well with that. The 1-26 has more than enough Plexiglass to stay safe, if you remember to look over both shoulders and straight up once in a while. I spied three more heavies on this flight, but none were any cause for concern.
It all ended about an hour later, with me entering the pattern, a bit low on the crosswind. Luckily, I passed through some lift on that leg, which saved me further embarrassment (but just barely). A Cherokee hit the downwind about the same time. When I called my entry, mentioned I'd be landing on the grass (not the runway), and declared him in sight, he responded with two clicks. That told me he probably knew how the game works, and would not freak out when he saw me turn base before the numbers as he was on final. And there was nobody else in the pattern, so I didn't announce after that. The sock was limp as I got on the downwind leg.
I salvaged the approach by leaving the spoilers alone, but turned base a little bit too soon, causing me to land a bit longer than I'd wanted. Used the spoilers and even slipped a little, but was nervous about being very aggressive with either. But it was a good landing if a hair nose-high- tailwheel brushed the grass just a moment before the main touched down gently. The Cherokee was just landing when I rolled to a stop and popped the canopy.
That was it for me today, but not a bad season opener... I was expecting to "fall out" almost right away, but had an hour's worth of fun winning and losing height and getting re-acquainted with the sweet little 1-26. A harbinger, I hope, of a good season!
As it turned out, when I arrived at around 11AM he was still at home, and wouldn't be coming to the airport after all. Texted the others; another responded that he too was unable, and another showed up eventually... at around 3PM.
Not that I minded sitting on the clubhouse porch on a fine Spring day; it beats working. Said hello to passing airport bums,watched the traffic come and go, including the heavies that I could hear on the handheld as they talked to Approach on their way into KEWR. I've recently figured out how to set the arrival frequency (for flights from the southwest) with the 47N CTAF as a priority channel, so I can monitor the heavy traffic but transmit only on the CTAF and hear anybody transmitting on that freq. Pretty slick... and I was hoping it would enhance my awareness, as those guys come in quite low over our little drome sometimes as they enter the bottom of the outer tier of the nearby Class B, and the gliders aren't squawking.
It was looking like a pretty nice day, with a light crosswind on the runway, and clouds indicating tight but maybe strong thermals. Warm and sunny, but not too hot... a gorgeous day for flying. JP took his L3 out, then Ron left in the Champ, and the ham-fisted flight students were providing the usual entertainment with their interesting approaches and "Chinglish" radio calls.
At one point I heard the unmistakable drone of multiple large radials headed east, a few miles north of the airport.... couldn't make out what it was, but it was a big bomber or transport, sure enough. That's always a cool thing, even when you can't identify it.
The 1-26 got assembled a couple of weekends ago, and Andrew had already flown it, so all I had to do when he arrived to tow me was go fetch it and do a normal preflight. Hadn't flown at all since October, but I wasn't too concerned about that, even without somebody to run the wing. While I waited for the towplane to taxi out, I laid out the rope, then climbed in to pre-set the harness so I could get ready quickly after attaching the rope. Told him I'd go to about 2500. As we launched, the wind puffed up into a respectable direct crosswind, right on cue.
A bit sloppy on the takeoff, but not scary. My first launch ever in that thing was a lot worse, LOL!! Sure enough, there was pretty big lift on the way out, but very isolated. Andrew likes to really hunt thermals and get you into them, and I found myself releasing a bit higher than I'd planned, because I was leery of getting off in a turn. Silly, I know, but I was playing it extra-safe, not trusting myself 100%.
Before I knew it we were nudging 3000 in strong lift, so I got off, and scrambled to stay in the thermal. It went reasonably well at first , but I will say I was hoping nobody was watching... I was pretty sloppy and hesitant. But after about 20 minutes, I had gained about 800, after abandoning the first thermal and finding a better one, and I was turning well, with the ASI needle just shy of 40 mph, the string centered, and that nice "in the groove" feeling. A 1-26 will seem twitchy until you get locked in; to me, it's like a totally different bird when you don't have it well in hand. Soon I was banking more steeply... the rust was coming off. Lost the thermal, hit some sink, found another... busy busy busy. The thermals were tight, and tricky... the telltale clouds were dissipating, and the wind aloft was breaking things up. I'd get a hold of one, then fly out of it, turn back and find even stronger lift, gain a little, then it would dump me again. I'd fly straight towards another known lift generator, find myself climbing without banking, turn back and it'd be gone. Then sudden, massive sink... it was bewildering, especially with the sky going all blue. There seemed to be a wind gradient somewhere within that altitude block, too, making it even trickier.
Just about the time I realized I'd somehow screwed up the setting on the radio (Approach got awful quiet), I was climbing again in a strong one ("come on, gimme 4000!"), and as the nose swung to to the south, I saw a glint, which quickly became a big two-holer with winglets, coming almost head-on just below my altitude. Interesting how quickly they grow! It was definitely heading to my right, but just barely. I banked harder to show as much glider as possible, then reluctantly flew out of the thermal to the east, because the heavy was not banking, not even a little. Maybe they saw me and saw that I was not a factor, maybe not. This is no time to invoke FARs; it's time to "see and avoid". I could probably have just kept climbing, but I preferred to increase the distance between us.. And it was definitely no time to be fiddling with the radio- I made a note to myself to select the 47N CTAF once the airliner passed, and just leave it there.
We passed at a healthy distance, perpendicular courses and flying away from each other. Then I continued scrabbling around, battling to stay aloft as long as possible. I had been reminding myself lately to look around more, and on this flight I did very well with that. The 1-26 has more than enough Plexiglass to stay safe, if you remember to look over both shoulders and straight up once in a while. I spied three more heavies on this flight, but none were any cause for concern.
It all ended about an hour later, with me entering the pattern, a bit low on the crosswind. Luckily, I passed through some lift on that leg, which saved me further embarrassment (but just barely). A Cherokee hit the downwind about the same time. When I called my entry, mentioned I'd be landing on the grass (not the runway), and declared him in sight, he responded with two clicks. That told me he probably knew how the game works, and would not freak out when he saw me turn base before the numbers as he was on final. And there was nobody else in the pattern, so I didn't announce after that. The sock was limp as I got on the downwind leg.
I salvaged the approach by leaving the spoilers alone, but turned base a little bit too soon, causing me to land a bit longer than I'd wanted. Used the spoilers and even slipped a little, but was nervous about being very aggressive with either. But it was a good landing if a hair nose-high- tailwheel brushed the grass just a moment before the main touched down gently. The Cherokee was just landing when I rolled to a stop and popped the canopy.
That was it for me today, but not a bad season opener... I was expecting to "fall out" almost right away, but had an hour's worth of fun winning and losing height and getting re-acquainted with the sweet little 1-26. A harbinger, I hope, of a good season!
