606K Bravo Hotel


We've all heard of "black holes". And of course intergalactic worm holes.
There are holes in the fabric of time, IRS loop-holes, bottom-less holes, 
fox holes, pot holes and I'll even concede the existence of a cannibal
tribe on Java called THE Holes (pronounced "Ho"-then make a clicking 
noise with your tongue while pumping three rapid-succession artificial 
armpit-farts, then breathe in once very rapidly and alarmingly like your
Mom when a spoon drops, then breathe out slowly sighing "le"). But none of 
that matters. Because of all the holes, the most dangerous BY FAR is soaring's 
"Blue Hole". The Bravo Hotel. You can check in...and if you are lucky you
can check out...but beware. Many of them have a "minimum-stay" policy.

Take last weekend for example. Saturday July 10th was a very nice day to be a 
glider pilot at the airport, with your glider rigged and ready, with fully 
charged batteries and two BBQ chicken sandwiches on Pepperidge Farm onion buns 
nicely compressed into your cockpit side-pouches. The cu's were popping at 
about 10:30AM, the wind wasn't too bad, 14@340, the bases were forecast at 
5-6K AGL, 3/8 cloud cover. I decided to add 100K to my last triangle and go
for 606K (375 miles). I use GPS coordinates or I'd say what my turn-points
were. Suffice to say it was an isosceles triangle toward the S/E with the one 
leg running about 190 degrees.

I launched around 11:30 and went through the gate immediately. No point in
a high speed start, ducking under the gate at red-line. This was a 
distance challenge, so the sooner I could be leaving thermals in the same
direction, along course, the better. Each leg was 125 miles, so I figured if 
I could do each leg at 60MPH it should take 125 minutes, two hours and 5
minutes each. Three legs add up to 6 hours 15 minutes and result in a landing 
about 7:00PM. Perfect! The days are long this time of year and the scattering
of cu's often gather up into massive behemoths with the highest bases of
the day around 7-8PM. Sometimes they form streets running N/S and look like 
massive sausage links disappearing off toward Madeline Island. 

For the first hour or so bases were at 3K and I reigned myself in, not 
wanting to end up in a field watching the beautiful sky mature and expire 
without me somewhere in it. I was carrying 15 gallons of water and suffered
a bit in the weak morning lift. I had to bank steeply to stay in the narrow
cores, and that meant circling in the 53-55kt range because of the additional
weight. I knew it would pay off more and more during cruises as the day 
got stronger though. By the second hour bases were up to 4K and lift was 
improving from 2 kts average (from thermal entry, to exit) in the first hour, 
to 3-4 kts. By 2-3PM bases were up to 5K AGL and the sky remained a perfect 
peppering of cu's as far as the eye could see. I was trying to stay between 
3-5K, a fairly narrow lift band for racing, but comfortable as long as I was
approximately on schedule. The big, bulging, sharp-edged, dark bottomed cu's 
lined up a few times for 20-30 miles. They weren't always at their prime when I 
got there, but even so, it was nice to fly slow and flat and stay easily within
their broad breath and climb at 4 knots average. I caught a few at their peak 
and saw 9kts on the vario and ended up with an average of nearly seven knots 
for 2-3 thousand feet of climb. I wish I could have strung more of those together!

I arrived at TP1 at 2:00PM, almost exactly 2 1/2 hours. A bit slow, but I 
figured I could make it up on the second leg now that conditions were getting 
better. Well, the second leg took me exactly the same time as the first! I had
to deviate 10 or 15 miles a few times to avoid soft areas and that cost some.
It was about 4:30 at TP2. Even if I did the last leg 30 minutes slower than 
either of the first two I would have enough day left to get home! A 606K!!! 

Hmmm....

This is when I get nervous. When everything looks too good. I check my
battery power and switch over to the second battery to be sure the flight
recorder doesn't fail on the final leg. I search the sky for signs conditions 
are deteriorating or being overtaken by cirrus or thunderstorms or meteors,
whatever. I still fly fast toward good clouds, but start flying a bit more 
conservatively through weaker stuff. Then I notice I am coming up to football 
shaped Blue Hole, 30 miles long, maybe 25 miles wide. I am 66 miles from home. 
I climb in a thermal at it's far edge and make the decision to go around to the
west. The clouds look great there even though it will amount to a 20-25 mile
detour when all is said and done. I climb some more and see how the decision
sits with me. I stare into the hole with each circle, automatically adjusting
my circle so the vario screams the loudest. Hmmmm. Just before I top out,
I see a couple cu's forming in the middle of the hole. They're like stepping 
stones. They're getting thicker and larger and stronger. The first one is 
about 1/2 of the way across...the other about 2/3. Suddenly I'm wavering. I'm
thinking the extra time I take to go around this hole might allow the
day to die before I get to cloud base within 40 miles of home. But if I
can scoot across this hole, topping up at each cu, I can save at least
20 minutes. But it's a gamble. It could cost more. I decide to go!

I cruise a conservative 70 kts and get to the first cu. It has the life
cycle of a fruit fly and is dying already. I climb a bit in 1-2 knots
and stare wistfully in all directions. I'm in the middle now and I'll be
low if I make a break in any direction. The clouds bordering the edges
of the hole don't look very happy either. How'd I get into this!? I go to
the second cu and circle heavily in 1-2kts there. I try to be patient.
I circle and circle and circle and argue with myself about leaving and
making the bold move. I climb some more. Now I can see the day is dying.
I dump my ballast and try to climb a bit higher. Then at best L/D I slide
out toward the far side. I find more very weak lift at the edge where there
had been decent clouds 30 minutes earlier. I can't really climb. I am 36 
miles from home with a 5 kt head wind. I need 2500 ft to have final glide 
made. There is a huge hamburger of a cu 18 miles north of Owatonna, slightly 
off-course to the east. It is one of those behemoths. The last one in the
sky. I head for it, hissing along in mental and physical silence at best L/D, 
about 57 kts.  I arrive and the vario barely acknowledges it's massive 
presence. Beep......beeep.....beeeeeep.......

I cruise the length of it and find the upwind side has something. A knot or 
so. And that's all the entire sky has left. I climb about 800ft in 12 minutes 
and the lift dies out. The computer says I need 2000ft to get home. 
I punch up the ten nearest airports on the Garmin and choose Waseca, the 
closest to my course line. I punch GO-TO and flip the switch so the
coordinates and speed are fed to my flight computer instead of the original
task. I arrive at 700-800AGL and call my intentions. It is 7:45PM. JC, with 
one foot out the door of the Faribault office, hears my Waseca call and 
radio's back, "X-ray Sierra, do you need a retrieve?" I say "Yes!!!". 

What luck. John McGregor was also just leaving, but instead hooks up my trailer
and comes and gets me. We derig and feed the mosquitoes and I alternate between 
thanking him for getting me and crying on his shoulder about the flights end
game. I had completed 355 of the 375 miles. I was trying not think of all the 
dozens of 2000ft climbs I had thrown away. Twenty miles shy. Sheesh. 

Next time!


Don Ingraham