Seven Failed 750 km Attempts – What Did I Learn?

On August 7, I successfully earned my 750k Diplome by completing a pre-declared 757 km task with three turn-points.  It was my eight attempt at such a task. Here is the flight track. I’ve documented the flight in detail in the following video.

 

In this article I will NOT focus on the successful flight but instead on the seven failed attempts that preceded it.  I want to examine exactly what went wrong, when, and why. And most importantly: what did I learn from these failed attempts?

Attempt #1 – You’ve Got to Take This More Seriously!

On May 5, 2020 I declared the following task:

  • Start/Finish: Gross Reservoir Dam
  • TP1: Morton Pass, Wyoming (42 km north of Laramie) – 189 km
  • TP2: Lake George (30km northwest of Pikes Peak) – 296 km
  • TP3: Rustic (35 km north of Estes Park) – 191 km
  • Finish: Gross Reservoir Dam – 85 km

Task Distance: 762 km

I launched at 12:39 pm, released in the pattern, and spent about 45 minutes getting connected. The launch itself had probably been too late already and when I finally was ready to get on task it was clearly too late for such an endeavor.  I realized this at the time and didn’t even bother to head south to cross my start line at Gross Reservoir.

In retrospect, I am not sure I should even call this an “attempt” since I did not even get a valid start.  I went on to have a nice flight: 561 km at an average speed of 120 kph based on OLC plus rules was fun but a serious effort to achieve a declared 750 km task it was clearly not.

Another question is: could it have worked had I started earlier?  The honest answer is, “I don’t know”.  The day was fairly strong with a well-working convergence line.  I can’t be certain that the convergence would have worked all the way to my first turn point because I only flew north until Crystal Lakes and did not try to get further north from there.  However, a line of clouds indicated the location of the convergence and it seemed to be in the right direction albeit with a lower cloud base.

The following picture shows my location over Crystal Lakes looking north towards Laramie just before turning back south.

The clouds on the right mark the convergence line in the direction towards my first – and most difficult – turn point, which – at this point – is about 100km away.

The image suggests that it probably would have been possible to follow the convergence to the north – although maybe not at the same speed as the rest of my flight.  But by the time I got there it was already too late in the day.  What would the same location looked like two hours earlier?  Did the convergence exist at that time? Was it marked?  These questions are of course impossible to answer in retrospect.

Bob Faris and John Seaborn had the longest flights from Boulder that day with just under 600 km and no-one flew faster than my 120 kph average.  These stats suggest that the day may not have been strong enough to accomplish a 750 km flight.

Overall, I think the key lesson to learn from this flight is this: if I really want to accomplish a 750 km task, I have to take it more seriously.  A 750 km flight requires a different approach than a 500 km flight. In particular, I have to start early enough to have enough time in the soaring day.

My flight track is here.

Attempt #2 – Don’t Waste Time to Get Going!

On June 11 came my second attempt:

  • Start: Bighorn Mountain (2 km east of Gold Hill)
  • TP1: Greenhorn Mountain (60 km south of Cañon City)- 245 km
  • TP2: Crystal Lakes (15 km south of the CO/WY border) – 334 km
  • TP3: Squaw Mountain (7 km south of Idaho Springs) – 130 km
  • Finish: Bighorn Mountain – 43 km

Task Distance: 752 km

This time I launched at 12:14 – about half an hour earlier.  However, I made the same mistake of releasing in the pattern on a convergence day.  I spent almost 50 minutes below 9,000 feet before I finally managed to break free of the inversion and got into convergence lift.

To my credit I went to get a valid start and made an attempt to reach my first turn point.  However, I knew that conditions would have to be extraordinarily strong to complete the task before the end of the soaring day.  I made good progress into a southerly headwind until I got to the town of Victor (south-west of Pikes Peak) where I decided to give up because the remaining 90 km to Greenhorn Mountain were devoid of any clouds.  Instead, a beautiful cloud street beckoned across South Park and so I decided to head west into the Mosquito Range.  I had a nice flight of 533 km and flew above Mt. Bross, my last remaining 14er of the Mosquito Range.

Could it have worked in hindsight?  It’s impossible to say.  John Seaborn had the longest flight from Boulder on that day with 869 km.  This is proof that long flights were definitely possible.  John launched 1:15 hours before me and managed to connect at 11:43 am, 1:30 hours earlier than I did.  As far as I can tell, no pilot flew into the Wet Mountains that day where my first turn point was located. Skysight had predicted some clouds that day over the Wet Mountains and that forecast had not come to pass.

The lessons on this flight are similar to those on my first attempt.  To accomplish a 750k task it is critical to start earlier and to not waste time trying to connect.  An earlier and deeper mountain tow may be necessary, especially on convergence days with a strong inversion over the plains.

My flight track is here.

Attempt #3 – Plan the Final Turn Point More Wisely

Flying out of Nephi, Utah, my third attempt was on July 2:

  • Start: 04 SE Start
  • TP1: 47 King’s Peak (High Uintas) – 171 km
  • TP2: 73 Salina Canyon (along I-70) – 235 km
  • TP3: 52 Mirror Lake (High Uintas) – 211 km
  • Finish: 04 SE Start – 137 km

Task Distance: 753 km

I launched at 12:14 pm (which is fairly early for Nephi – about the equivalent of 11:45 am in Boulder due to Nephi’s westerly longitude) and climbed quickly to 12,000 feet.  I left the climb to cross the start line relatively low.  Unfortunately, I fell out of the band at that point and wasted about 20 minutes to reconnect.  By the time I went out on task it was 1 pm.

My first turn point, King’s Peak (part of the High Uintas), is the tallest mountain in Utah  and it turned out to be a real challenge.  While conditions were great up to Strawberry Reservoir, thermals became narrow and windblown further to the north and only one in three clouds produced climbable lift.  I managed to turn King’s Peak at 2:28 pm but this stretch had been hard work and even with a tail wind, I had only averaged 98 kph.

Just before turning King’s Peak in the High Uintas

Conditions improved once I was back at Strawberry Reservoir and able to connect with the convergence line above the Wasatch Plateau.  My second leg of the flight was into a headwind but I picked up the pace and averaged 110 kph rounding my southern turn point at Salida Canyon at 4:37pm.

Strawberry Reservoir on my southbound leg towards Salina Canyon

The third leg started out really fast (160 kph average with a tailwind) but as I approached Strawberry Reservoir for the second time it was 5:20 pm and I had another 90 km to go to Mirror Lake.  My memories of the difficulties of flying into the High Uintas from earlier in the day were still very much on my mind. As I considered flying into that terrain again at the end of the day I got cold feet – especially considering that I would then have to face a stiff headwind back to Nephi for the final 137 km.

Could it have worked?  Who knows…  Several pilots flew into the High Uintas that day but no one went there so late in the afternoon.  And that is the key lesson of this flight:  do not plan the last turn point such that it is over difficult terrain, far away from home, and facing a headwind on final glide.  Any of these three aspects (difficulty of terrain, distance from home, and headwind on final) can become a problem by itself – all three combined is asking for trouble.  I am glad that I made the prudent decision to give up on this task when I did.  I might have been able to finish, but I might also have landed out at Heber or Thunder Ridge Airpark, running out of lift and unable to get back home.

I took some encouragement from the fact that I had achieved my first two turn points on a challenging 750 km attempt.  My total flight distance that day was 667 km based on OLC plus rules.

My flight track is here.

Attempt #4 – Detour To Follow the Clouds!

Once again flying out of Nephi, my fourth attempt was on July 5.

  • Start: 04 SE Start
  • TP1: xPfeiler Ranch (10 km north of Panguitch) – 198 km
  • TP2: 80 Strawberry Dam (50 km east of Provo) – 269 km
  • TP3: 87 Whiskey Knoll (35 km southwest of Richfield) – 180 km
  • Finish: 04 SE Start – 117 km

Task Distance: 767 km

I launched at 12:13 pm, which should have been early enough for this task, and I had no problem climbing off tow.  The direct route south was blocked by a fire TFR and so I had to go around on the east side of the San Pitch Mountains where I struggled to get up to cloud base and didn’t make good time. Better conditions along the Pavani Range past Richfield and then slow going again past Mt Delano towards my southern turn point.  A mediocre average climb rate of just over 4 kts didn’t support more than 100 kph on that first leg.

A tailwind on the long second leg should have made the going much faster but the air above the Wasatch Plateau had dried earlier than predicted and much of my route was in the blue.  The only visible cloud street was the convergence line east of the Wasatch Plateau, which I (erroneously) believed to be too far off course. Intent on staying high without thermal markers I took a lot of weak climbs such that my average climb rate dropped even slightly below 4 kts. Even with a tail wind, I did not make more than 110 kph on the way north to Strawberry Reservoir.

More blue skies on the way back south against a headwind and my average speed dropped to 91 kph.  This is just way to slow to complete a 750k flight.  Around 6pm the last wisps were gone and it became clear that the soaring day was over.  I made it to the vicinity of Mount Baldy and had to acknowledge that the remaining 50 km to Whiskey Knoll were no longer feasible.

This is at the point when I abandoned my attempt to reach the final turnpoint, Whiskey Knoll, approx. 50 km to the left of the nose. It was 6:34pm.

Crossing the Manti Valley I even dropped below glide range to Nephi but the sun-baked rocks along the San Pitch Mountains provided sustaining lift and ultimately I had no problem getting back home.

In hindsight I should have flown along the convergence that set up over the desert east of the Wasatch Plateau.  I had judged the street to be too far east but looking at others’ flight traces for the day it would have worked very well, supporting speeds of over 160kph and only being a minor detour.  In my assessment during the flight I judged the street too far east and had been concerned about making it back from there to the west side of the plateau.

Here I am flying north along the west side of the Wasatch Plateau en route to my second turn point, Strawberry Reservoir. Note the amazing cloud street to the right, east of the plateau. That street supported average speeds of 160-170 kph, more than 50% faster than my route in the blue.

John Seaborn and Bruno Vassel followed that convergence line all the way to the Grand Canyon and back. John’s distance of almost 1100 km flown at an average speed of more than 150 kph was truly humbling!

The key lesson was that I should have taken the detour to follow the very well marked convergence line where much faster average speeds were obtainable. (The picture above makes this really obvious.)

I managed to fly 709 km that day (based on OLC plus), which was my longest flight up to this date.  Once again I had made the first two turn points and then ran out of time.  I started to feel increasingly confident that it was just a matter of time until it would work.

My flight track is here.

Attempt #5 – Misaligned Cycle Times and Detours

My 5th attempt was back in Boulder on July 9:

  • Start: Ward
  • TP1: Dixon, Wyoming – 200 km
  • TP2: Thunder Butte (10 km south of Deckers, CO) – 285 km
  • TP3: Crystal Lakes (15 km south of CO/WY border) – 190 km
  • Finish: Ward – 88 km

Task Distance: 763 km

This was a cool task because I hadn’t been to the northwest before.  I launched at noon and caught a 10 kt climb right off tow to 17,000 feet.  By 12:30 I had crossed the start line and was underway.

The first leg went quite well and I averaged 100 kph against a solid headwind of 15-20 kts, turning Dixon at 2:30 pm.

Looking northwest into the Great Green River Basin just before turning Dixon, WY – the clouds in this area worked better than they looked.

A tailwind and flying during the peak time of the day should have made my second leg much faster.  However, I got caught in a down-cycle and cloud after cloud dissolved before I got there.  The crossing of North Park was particularly slow going and I took several weak climbs and detours to stay in glide range of Walden.  While my average climb rate had been almost 7 kts on the outbound leg, it dropped to 4 kts on the return resulting in a XC speed of only 105 kph, very poor considering the tailwind.

I returned to the Front Range near Mummy Mountain north of Estes Park and found the convergence line in perfect working order.  Finally I was able to go straight with minimal circling.  Over the following 115 km I averaged 150 kph with convergence lift supporting an effective glide ratio of 117:1.

Turnpoint 2 was to the east of the convergence and harder to get to due to over-development, causing another slow down until I had turned it at 5:15pm. From there I detoured back to the convergence, reaching it by 5:25pm.

By the time I got back to the Continental Divide past Mount Evans it was 5:50pm and the area to the north towards Crystal Lakes was completely over-developed with overcast and rain.

A notable feature of the day were the different characteristics of the various air masses.  The air to the east of the Front Range convergence was quite humid and prone to over-development and showers, whereas the western air was much drier with nice cus, although not always conveniently aligned with my task.

Eight pilots were flying cross-country from Boulder that day and my 685 km flight was considerably longer than anyone else’s. The Cache la Poudre area (where my third turn point was located) was already overdeveloped by 4 pm, meaning that a faster speed on leg two would not have made much difference.

Climbing over North Park just before returning to the Front Range. Cache la Poudre is in front of the nose behind the Never Summer Mountains. Even at 3:50pm this area was over-developed (rain and virga is falling ahead). Two hours later this area was an amorphous grey over-cast and completely unsoarable.

Overall, I believe that a 750 km task was not obtainable that day.  The main lesson to take away is the realization that some great-looking days may simply not last long enough to complete such a long task. 

My flight track is here.

Attempt #6 – When OD Gets Too Much

My 6th attempt was in Boulder on July 17:

  • Start: Boulder (KBDU)
  • TP 1: Centennial, Wyoming (45 km west of Laramie) – 160 km
  • TP2: Scottsbluff, Nebraska – 221 km
  • TP3: Mount Evans – 307 km
  • Finish: Boulder (KBDU) – 61 km

Task Distance: 750 km

I was very excited about the possibilities of this task. Not only was it a 750 km task, it was also a >650 km FAI triangle with start and finish on the same leg. And it would take me across three states – Colorado, Wyoming, and Nebraska.  The cloud bases were projected to be somewhat lower than what I prefer but with much of the task over the eastern plains flying really high was not going to be critical.

The forecast supported an unusually early launch at 10:30 am.  The air was highly unstable.  Cumulus clouds had started to form before 10 am and when I released from tow above the Flatirons at 10:45 am, the first rain drops hit my canopy.

I quickly climbed to 14,000 ft and crossed the start line above Boulder at 11:04 am.  I already had significant doubts about the viability of the task but thought I would give it a try.  Over-development is often confined to the mountains and most of my second and third leg would be over the eastern plains.

At 12:41 I rounded my first turn point at the foot of Medicine Bow Peak.  At 100 kph my average speed wasn’t particularly high but I had been flying into a headwind and it was still early in the day.

Turning eastward it was obvious that the direct route to Scottsbluff was blocked by a big rain cell sitting above the hills east of Laramie.  The shorter detour seemed to be on the northern side but I had not prepared for such a northerly route and wasn’t familiar with the landing areas.  So I decided to try a southerly detour, which would keep me in glide range of Cheyenne and Owl Canyon.

OD and first rain east of Laramie as early as 12:50 pm. My route to TP 2 (Scottsbluff) would have been directly through the rain (left of the nose).

South-east of Cheyenne I had made it past the rain cell and could see a street towards Scottsbluff.  However, looking back towards Boulder, the foothills west of Fort Collins were already heavily overdeveloped with lots of dark clouds and it was only 1:30pm.   Virga and rain had also started to fall from some of the clouds over the plains.

I did  not want to tempt land-out fate and decided to give up on the task and make my way back towards Boulder while heavy rain fell over the foothills west of Carter Lake. Slightly drier conditions to the south allowed me to continue past Boulder and almost reach Mount Evans before returning back home, landing at 3:20pm.

Would a completion of my task have been possible?  I am confident that the answer is no.   Overall there was no new lesson to be learned.  Completing a 750 km flight requires the whole soaring day and if the day gets cut short by heavy over-development there simply isn’t enough time to finish the task.

With 528 km my flight was the longest from Boulder on that day.   My flight track is here.

Attempt #7 – Don’t Take Safety Risks!

Attempt # 7 was on July 31, 2020:

  • Start: Ward
  • TP1: Medicine Bow Peak – 159 km
  • TP2: xBuffalo Drive (south of Hartsel) – 274 km
  • TP3: Colorado/Wyoming Border – 229 km
  • Finish: Ward – 104 km

Task Distance: 766 km

July 31 was a convergence day with a strong ground inversion over the prairie. I launched at 11:15 am and crossed the start line at Ward at 11:51 am at 12,000 ft. While some other pilots struggled to get connected I felt lucky to get underway relatively quickly.

Cloud bases were still somewhat low and conditions relatively soft but I made steady progress, crossing from Trail Ridge Road into the Never Summer Range.   Cloud bases dropped below 16,000 as I headed north but the line of lift was well-marked.  At 1:30 pm I rounded my northern-most turn point above Medicine Bow Peak.

Turning Medicine Bow Peak in Wyoming.

As I began to head back south, some clouds already showed signs of significant vertical development, which did not bode well for the conditions later that afternoon.  But for the moment I enjoyed strong lift of 6 kt average and a glide ratio of 113:1 as much of my leg to the south followed the convergence line along the Front Range and into South Park. My average speed on this leg was almost 150 kph.

Following the convergence along the Front Range. Longs Peak is below and ahead.

By the time I reached Mount Evans, the clouds had begun to darken with clear signs of over-development.  However, the sky ahead into South Park still looked promising and the convergence line extended ahead, fairly well-aligned with my route to turn point 2 south of Hartsel.

Cruising past Mount Evans into South Park. The clouds have intensified but the convergence line is well defined with a clear path to my turn point (and past it towards Salida).

The prudent thing to do would have been to give up at the task at this point. However, the allure of a quick line towards TP2 was very strong.  Having a clear path towards the airport of Salida gave me the confidence to continue.

I rounded turn point 2 at 3:18 pm and turned back north. The clouds had continued to build up but there was a well-marked way back towards Mount Evans and so I took it.

Returning towards Mount Evans across South Park. Boulder is below the dark clouds on the horizon to the right of the nose. These clouds started to trouble me and I began to consider alternative landing sites such as Granby and Kremmling (ahead to the left of the nose beyond the mountain range).

As I got closer to Mount Evans I could see sunshine beyond the virga line ahead.

Snow hit the canopy as I flew via Guanella Pass through some virga west of Mount Evans. Sunshine beckoned ahead towards Georgetown. Boulder is below the big cloud in front. There was very strong lift as I cut through the virga.  I even extended the spoilers before flying across so I would stay at least 1000 ft below the clouds as required by visual flight rules.
Snow and rain fell above Mount Evans. The big cloud on the left towards Boulder worried me more.

At this point it was more than evident that there was no safe way to continue to turn point 3 at the Colorado / Wyoming border.  Heavy over-development and storms blocked the way to the north and I abandoned my task.

At this point my only question was whether to head back to Boulder or to land at Granby, west of the Continental Divide.  After intense radio communications with other pilots I opted for a return to Boulder where the winds were still calm.

However, the final approach towards Boulder was more exciting than I had imagined.  The big cell above Boulder had evolved into a thunder cloud and it’s full extent was difficult to see from my location. But once I had committed to Boulder there was no longer an alternative.   I had to cross below the virga line that marked the storm front.

Lighting flashed overhead just as I was about to cross below the virga line. The Flatirons are ahead to the left of the nose and the path towards Boulder is clear to see. The lightning was a big scare for me and forcefully reminded me to not underestimate the power of nature.

Fortunately there wasn’t much turbulence below the virga line.  I reached Boulder safely and there was little wind on the ground at the time of my landing.  However, I clearly learned a vital lesson: it is absolutely not worth taking safety risks to achieve a sporting challenge.  More specifically: I should have turned back to Boulder an hour earlier – before passing Mount Evans and flying into South Park when I could already have anticipated the possibility of the storm that developed.

My flight track is here.

Conclusion

What did I learn from these failed attempts ultimately preparing me for a successful run:

  1. A 750k is not just a little longer than Diamond distance (500 km).  To succeed you need to take it seriously – in planning, and in execution.  A declared 750k is also a lot harder than an OLC plus 750k; in my opinion it is roughly on par with a 900-1000k OLC plus flight.
  2. You will most likely need the whole soaring day.  This means you have to start as soon as possible and well before the lift is great. You will also still be flying when the lift is no longer great.
  3. Take a higher tow if it allows you to get on task quickly.  If you waste 30-45 minutes trying to connect, chances are that you will come to regret it at the end of the day.
  4. You need a long soaring day. This means conditions should allow for an early launch – ideally before 11am – and last into the evening.  May through August will normally be the only months where such a task is possible, with the best opportunities in June and July – close to summer solstice.
  5. You need a day with reliable weather.  The weather obviously can’t be too stable for the lift wouldn’t be good.  But it also can’t be so unstable for there to be widespread overdevelopment, virga, and rain.  Ideally you want a high cloud base and just enough moisture to generate nice cus wherever you plan your task.
  6. Stay away from days when there is a risk of thunderstorms.  You can fly around localized showers but you should not try to attempt a long task where you may have to fly through lightning, hail, and storm outflows.  Do not take safety risk to achieve a sporting goal.  It is not worth it!
  7. Days with light winds are much better than days with strong winds.
  8. Out and returns or triangle tasks are most demanding but tasks with three turn points give you the best chance to succeed. If you plan a 3 turn point flight the first turn point should be furthest away from the start and turn points two and three should be planned in such a way that the last ~200 km of the flight is relatively close to home.  This greatly reduces your stress level and will encourage you to keep trying until the end.  If the last TP is outside of glide range from your home airfield, you may have to give up early even if there is still a chance to be successful. This is especially true if you are flying above unlandable terrain.
  9. Align the task with the best weather.  Some pilots like to design a few tasks at the beginning of the season and then pick the one that seems best suited for the given day.  The mental exercise of designing tasks upfront can be helpful but you should remain flexible and willing to design a custom task the night before the flight, possibly revising it in the morning to be most aligned with the latest weather forecast.  Take full advantage of the features of modern weather forecasts – especially make sure to use the time slider to determine what parts of the task area are best early, during peak hours, and late in the day. (Forecasts are obviously not always accurate but that’s not a good reason to ignore them!)
  10. Account for the wind when planning your task: ideally use the best part of the day to fly into the wind, and make sure that you’re not fighting a headwind on the final glide home. If there are significant differences in wind speed and direction within the task area, consider them in your task planning.
  11. Be careful to ensure your task complies with all FAI sporting rules (1 km start line, 45 degree turn sectors, valid flight declaration in a valid flight recorder, finish no more than 1000m below the start, etc.) and make sure you observe all air space restrictions including TFRs.
  12. Once underway you must make good forward progress to not run out of time.  Understand what contributes most to a high average speed: (1) continuing forward on task, (2) flying in lift (e.g. along ridges, convergences, cloud streets, or other energy lines – even if it involves taking small to medium detours) and (3) avoiding weak climbs.  Boomer thermals with 10+ kts help but they are not essential.  5-6kt thermals are perfectly fine.  Just try not to put yourself in too many situations where you have to take 1-2 kt climbs.  On a 750k task you will do a lot of circling – 80,000 feet if your average glide ratio is 30:1.  A pilot who always takes 5 kt climbs is much faster than one who alternates between 1 kt and 10 kt climbs.  Do the math of how long it takes to climb 80,000 feet at various different climb rates if you don’t understand why.  If you do a great job following energy lines you may cut the necessary circling down to 50,000 or 60,000 ft – a big time savings!
  13. Make use of water ballast for you will be faster.  Days where ballast is of no advantage are not suitable for 750k tasks to begin with.
  14. There will be segments along your flight where the conditions are not as strong as you expected.  Try not to let that discourage or frustrate you and make the most of the hand you’re dealt with.  While it is unlikely that you will succeed on your first attempt, you might never succeed if you wait for the perfect day when all stars remain aligned from beginning to end.

 

A Beginner’s Guide to Scoring Well in the OLC Speed League

What Strava is for runners and bicyclists, OLC is for glider pilots: a place where you can upload, share, and compare your flights with those of other soaring pilots. At the end of a soaring day, it’s fun to see where your friends were flying, and to check how you did in comparison.

Such comparison is not limited to a specific soaring site.  With the help of OLC, pilots can analyze their performance against the flights of other pilots nationwide, and even globally.  Weather conditions are obviously very different from day to day and from site to site.  However, over the course of an entire soaring season many differences tend to even out and the overall performances become more comparable.

OLC scores multiple different contests, both at the individual level and and at the club level.  In this article, I want to focus on one specific type of competition: the OLC Speed League.

Final results of the 2019 US Gold League when Boulder finished in third place behind Moriarty and Minden.

The Speed League (the rules are here) has a number of unique characteristics that make it particularly fun and accessible to everyone:

1. It is a team contest that is scored at the club level. On each weekend during the Speed League Season (which normally runs for 19 weeks starting on the 3rd weekend in April), the top flights of three different club members count for the team score in each round.  On some weekends only two or three pilots are available to fly, which means that you don’t have to be an experienced contest pilot to contribute; in fact, every club member has an opportunity to contribute to the club’s overall performance.

2. It’s a great way to practice for soaring contests. You practice flying in less-than-stellar conditions (because every weekend of the season counts, no matter the weather).  You practice all the skills necessary to improve your speed, e.g. quick thermal centering, finding and following energy lines, flying at the optimum speed-to-fly, judging course-deviations, etc.  And you learn to fly with specific goals in mind rather than just meandering around.

3. You don’t have to fly extraordinary distances or get far away from home to score well.  The four fastest legs during a 2:30 hours soaring window count for your flight.  For those flying from Boulder it is often possible to achieve a good score without ever getting out of glide range of the home airport!  Scores are handicapped based on the glider’s performance, which means you also don’t need to have the fastest racing machine. You can achieve a competitive score with any of our club gliders, even the ASK 21.

My club, the Soaring Society of Boulder, has a long tradition of performing very well in the OLC Speed League.  E.g., in 2019 SSB finished in third place among all US Clubs, in 2018 SSB finished second, and in 2017 the club came in first place.

This past weekend was the first of 13 rounds of the (shortened) 2020 season and SSB is in # 1 position of the US Gold League and in #9 position globally – a great start to the season!

Results after Round 1 of the US Gold League for 2020.

To do well as a club, it is critical that enough pilots come and fly on the weekends, especially when the conditions are ok but not great.

In this Beginner’s Guide I am offering 12 tips to help anyone contribute to our club’s performance. These suggestions are particularly geared towards new participants who want to stay within glide range of the home airfield.  But they may also be relevant for everyone else, especially on mediocre days when most pilots will want to stay relatively close to home.

Here’s a link to my first-ever speed league flight attempt in April 2018 at a time when I my total experience was just a little over 100 hours in gliders. It was weak day with low thermal heights over the hills and I wasn’t able to get to the west side of the convergence.  My speed was just barely faster than the required 40 kph minimum for the Gold League but I had the third best flight among those flying from Boulder and the flight earned valuable points for our club.

Some of the tips are fairly specific for the conditions in Boulder, Colorado.  However, many are perfectly applicable to other soaring sites as well, and those that aren’t can be adjusted for typical site-specific conditions.

(1) Be Prepared and Have a Plan

First, look at the weather forecast (I like to use Skysight but RASP is perfectly fine also), and decide whether Saturday or Sunday is the better day.  (Or, if you can fly on both days, your better score will count.)

Once you’ve picked a day, decide on your best soaring window and plan a tentative route based on where and when the best conditions are. Remember that you need to fly up to four (more or less straight) legs over a 2 1/2 hour time period in order to score well.

OLC does not require a flight declaration.  You can simply take off and follow the best lift lines.

However, personally I like to declare a Turn Area Task (TAT) in my flight computer that is aligned with the fastest projected routes for the day.  This forces me to figure out upfront what the best route is likely to be and it is great preparation for contests because I get to practice flying TATs (the most frequently used task type at US contests.)

Skysight has a very handy “Route Forecast” tool that, in conjunction with the “XC speed” screen, is of great help in identifying the fastest projected routes and picking the best start time for the task.

This is a screenshot of Skysight’s “Route Forecast” tool for this coming Sunday (June 7, 2020). Note from the left pane that I have “XC Speed” selected as the underlying display, which shows graphically where the fastest possible flying speeds are predicted. I have mapped out a flight starting at Bighorn Mountain (which is just inside the 15km OLC Start Cylinder), heading first to the south at the edge of the dark red area (just south of Idaho Springs), then heading north over the Poudre, from there back south to a point slightly further east (conditions are expected to be best in that area later in the day), and from there back to Bighorn Mountain. Total distance is 335 km. If I can fly it in 2 1/2 hours that would yield a speed of 134 kph. I can considerably vary my exact route during the flight but it helps to have a general idea where the best potential routes are likely to be. At the top right of the screen you can see a tool that suggests an early start at 10:30AM would yield the best average speed.  The barograph at the top shows the attainable thermal heights, the presence of cumulus clouds, and the heigh of the underlying terrain.  Once you’ve picked a route, you can change the underlying display to take a closer look at additional aspects of the weather along the flight route at any given time (just move your mouse indicator along the barograph slide from left to right to see the changes in the conditions throughout the day).

I usually use three turn areas as this will help me generate four legs.  The minimum task time must be at least 2 1/2 hours but more often than not I plan a somewhat longer task and use a minimum flight duration of at least 3 hours.  OLC will then automatically pick the fastest 2 1/2 hour segment (using four legs).  I keep the radii of the turn areas quite large (e.g. 25-40 km) so I have sufficient flexibility to use the best available energy lines, even it the forecast is considerably off.

For start and finish, I set up a 15 km cylinder centered at the takeoff airport.  This helps ensure that I get a valid start (see tip #3 below).

I can always abandon my task to follow better energy lines once I am underway but I found it much better to have a plan that I can modify, than to have no plan at all.

In addition to having a plan for your flight, also make sure to check for TFRs (temporary flight restrictions), especially during wildfire and football season.  And make sure that you have a valid flight logger and that it is turned on a few minutes before the flight. (It must start recording when the glider begins to move on the ground otherwise OLC will not accept your trace.)

(2) The Most Basic Flight Is Often the Fastest

The most basic (and yet often the fastest) speed league flight from Boulder is a four leg yo-yo up and down the Front Range.  (The entire flight path is often roughly parallel to the Peak-to-Peak Highway.)  Especially good speeds can be achieved if the typical “convergence line” sets up over the foothills. This flight can be accomplished entirely within glide range of Boulder, even on days with modest conditions.

This chart shows a basic TAT for a three turn area flight within glide range of Boulder. You can see the 15 km start cylinder around Boulder. The actual flight will likely start on the western edge of that turn cylinder as conditions are almost always better over the hills. From there it is shown to go south into a wide turn cylinder around Meridian Hill, then north into an equally wide turn cylinder around Lookout Mountain, back south into the turn cylinder around Meridian Hill, and from there back to Boulder.  (It is of course equally possible to start with a first leg to the north rather than to the south.)  Turn areas are set up as “Assigned Areas”, i.e. the actual distance will be calculated based on how far you go into each turn cylinder. You can see at the top right, that the shortest possible task distance is 76.4 nm and the longest possible task distance is 268 nm. This provides a lot of flexibility to adjust the course based on where the best energy lines are.

The basic strategy for this flight is as follows: 

a) Initial climb: After releasing from tow, climb into the convergence (if there is one), or up to cloud base (if there isn’t).  This may take a while and your speed along this stretch is usually poor. Think of the point when you are finally “connected” (with the clouds or the convergence) as the true start of your speed league flight. This is the point when your 2 1/2 window should begin. Make a mental note of the time and your altitude (or write it down on a notepad). (It will be very important that you remember this at the end of your flight!)

b) Pick a Direction for Leg 1: Once you are connected, decide whether to go north or south along the convergence (if there is one) or along the best lift line that you can make out.  (You should already have an idea from the weather forecast which direction will likely offer the better conditions early in the day (e.g. higher cloud bases, and/or stronger lift early in the day). If OD is forecast in either direction, it is usually best to go there first.

c) Leg 1: Follow the convergence (or other energy line) in more or less the same direction (north or south) until you are no longer comfortable to continue or until the conditions get too soft (whichever comes first), then turn around. This will be the first leg of your flight.

d) Leg 2: Your second leg will typically backtrack your first leg although the position of the best energy lines may have shifted somewhat.  Follow the best energy line past Boulder in more or less the same direction and once again keep going until you are no longer comfortable or until the conditions get too soft.  It is likely that the conditions will have improved from the beginning of the flight (higher cloud bases, more cus, stronger lift) so try to go a bit further away from Boulder than on your first leg (provided that you can do so safely). Then turn around.

e) Leg 3: Your third leg will likely mirror your second leg – just in the opposite direction. If conditions allow and you are comfortable, push a bit further than you did on your first leg. Then turn around.

f) Leg 4: Now is a good time to check your watch from the time when you first connected (i.e., the start of your first leg).  If 2 1/2 hours have already passed and you have maintained your direction on each leg reasonably well, you should already have a good score!  However, more likely than not, the 2 1/2 hour mark will still be in the future.  If that’s the case, you should try to get a good fourth leg by backtracking your third leg (and possibly beyond) until the full 2 1/2 hours have passed.

e) Finish: At the end of your 4th leg, make sure to climb up to the altitude when you started your first leg.  (You must be at least as high at the end of your fourth leg as you were at the beginning of your first leg!)

(3) Get a Valid Start

For OLC Speed League flights to count, the start of motorless flight must be within 15 km (9.3 sm, 8.1 nm) of the center of the takeoff airport.

Boulder pilots have all flown on days when there is a powerful ground inversion over the plains and a high tow is needed to get into lift above the mountains. Sometimes that tow will take us beyond the 15 km start cylinder.  (For reference: the top of Bighorn Mountain (west of Lee Hill) is just within the start cylinder, the town of Gold Hill is just outside the cylinder.  Lower Nugget Ridge is inside the cylinder, Jamestown is outside the cylinder.  Bear Peak is inside the cylinder, Gross Reservoir is just outside the cylinder.)

A great way to make sure that your motorless flight takes you into the 15km start cylinder is to set the correct start cylinder on the flight computer.

If you have towed (or motored) beyond the start cylinder you can still get a valid start by flying back into the start cylinder before you head out on your first leg.  To do that, climb high enough first and then come back, “nick” the edge of the start cylinder, and fly back to where the lift is.

This chart shows an extreme example of a “nick back”. It is from this flight last year. The convergence was very far to the west – almost over the Continental Divide – and there was no lift at all east of the convergence. I took an epic tow almost to Idaho Springs where I connected with strong lift. After climbing up high, I “nicked back” into the 15km start cylinder (shown in red), before heading back west to reconnect with the convergence. The yellow arrow indicates the flight path that was necessary to get a valid start for the Speed League.

Getting into the 15km start cylinder after release from tow is critical because your flight will not count at all for the Speed League until your flight path includes a location “fix” within the start cylinder after release from tow.  (This rule is Speed League specific and does not apply for OLC plus.)

(4) On Each of the 4 Legs, Always Fly Forward In The Same General Direction

This should be pretty obvious but it is the most crucial thing to do to get a good result.  Nothing destroys your speed as much as getting low being forced to backtrack to the previous thermal.  You’ll quickly end up with too many short legs and you will not be pleased by the average speed calculation.  If the conditions ahead look weaker, try to stay higher and fly slower.  But move forward whenever it is safely possible and you are fairly certain that you will find lift ahead.

(5) Move On When You Can’t Climb

When I started out I often tried to milk every lift as long as possible.  This meant that sometimes I would keep circling without climbing at all.   Needless to say that I wasted a lot of time doing that.  You only gain distance and points if you move forward, not if you stand still.

It’s also worth considering that you lose a lot of time in very weak climbs.  Whether you can climb at 5 kts or at 10 kts matters much less than whether you can climb at 1 kts or at 3 kts.  Think about it: let’s say you need to gain 3000 ft to close your course.  If you climb at 10 kts it will take you about 3 minutes; at 5 kts it will take you 6 minutes; at 3 kts, you need about 10 minutes, and at 1 kt you need a full half hour!  The difference between climbing 3000 ft at 5 kts and 10 kts is only only 3 minutes.  But the difference between climbing 3000 ft at 1 kt and 3 kts is 20 minutes!

Average climbs tend to be very good climbs overall.  It’s the very weak climbs that will destroy your speed!

(6) Always Follow Energy Lines

“The best speed to fly is the one where you can fly forward on course without having to stop to thermal.” (Sebastian Kawa; watch this video to get Sebastian’s tips on how to fly faster).

One of the great advantages of flying from Boulder is the frequent presence of strong lift lines that allow for straight forward flight without having to stop and turn.  I had already two flights this year where I was able to fly more than 250km in a straight line without ever having to stop to thermal.  Such flights automatically result in excellent average speeds even if your cruise speed isn’t particularly fast per se.

If there are well-marked energy lines such as this convergence line, you can achieve high speeds by flying straight over long distances without having to stop and circle.

Let’s say you’re cruising in a club Discus at a modest indicated airspeed of 65 kts.  If you’re flying at 15,000 feet, your true airspeed is 84.5 kts!  Even if you’re loosing as much as 20% due to some course deviations and having to crab into a cross wind, your ground speed  is still 67.6 kts (125 kph).  And if you don’t have to stop to circle, that speed will be your average ground speed.  If you can maintain this way of flying for 2 1/2 hours you will achieve 117 pts for the speed league (125 kph / 1.07 (Discus Handicap)).  Not bad!  And you can obviously do even better if you fly faster through any sink and slower through areas of strong lift.  Three flights like this on a particular weekend will inevitably guarantee your club a top result in the Speed League!

If you look at flight traces of fast flights, you will often see that they are not directly straight. This chart shows the trace of my flight on May 31, 2020 where I flew over 200 miles without a single circle. I highlighted one of the legs in yellow but you can look at each northbound and southbound leg and see that the trace weaves along the convergence that had set up parallel to the Continental Divide. The line isn’t exactly straight because the divide isn’t exactly straight either. Also, the heights of the peaks along the divide varies as well, which causes the strength of the westerly wind to vary, thereby shifting the line further to the east or further to the west.

In Boulder, the most frequent and most reliable energy line is the convergence line that sets up when there is a westerly airflow aloft coming across the Continental Divide, and thermals over the foothills generate an easterly airflow over the plains.  Read this article to learn more about how you can climb into the convergence, identify it, and follow it.  For Boulder pilots, being able to locate and follow the convergence is perhaps the single most critical skill to achieving good speed league results.

During the summer season we also often see powerful thermal streets setting up, e.g., over the Poudre, into South Park, and west of the Divide towards Kremmling and beyond.  In spring, fall, and winter wave conditions may create even more powerful energy lines.

Look for such energy lines (especially convergence) in the weather forecast and then seek to follow them during your flight.  The better you’re able to do that, the higher your average speed will be.

A convergence line often sets up on blue days as well.  It is then obviously much more difficult to locate but there are great rewards if you can find and follow it.  Certain flight computers (e.g. the Naviter Oudie) will allow you to download the weather forecast before your flight and display the projected location of the convergence line at the correct time while you’re flying.  Provided that the forecast was accurate, this can be of great help!

(7) Stay in the Lift Band

In Boulder we frequently benefit from high cloud bases.  In fact, the bottom of the clouds is often 10,000 feet above the ground, sometimes even more.  Things are often great when we can cruise under clouds.  However, everyone has experienced that getting “connected” with the clouds can sometimes be quite difficult and take a while.  To achieve high speeds we have to be careful not to lose the connection once we’ve made it.  Otherwise, if we “fall out of the band”, we have to go through the time-consuming process of working our way back up again. Needless to say that this will negatively impact our average speed.

When you are “connected” with the clouds, western soaring conditions can be incredibly strong. Here I am cruising at >110 kts at 17,000 ft under a cloud street on a flight on June 5 2020. 20 minutes later I made a mistake and let myself drop below 13,000 feet over the Poudre. At that time it was almost game over and I had to work very hard to prevent a land-out or a motor start.

It is not always easy to determine how deep the good lift band is.  If you divide the distance between the ground and the cloud base in thirds, a rule of thumb is that the upper third almost always works and the lower third is almost always difficult.

E.g., let’s say the cloud base is at 16,000 feet and we’re flying over the foothills over terrain that is at 10,000 feet.  The altitude band between 14,000 and 16,000 tends to work best and the band between 10,000 and 12,000 ft is likely very challenging.  The area between 12,000 and 14,000 is the “murky middle”.  On some days, conditions are great, or others not so much at all.

E.g., this past weekend, cloud bases were around 15,500 ft and I struggled mightily until I broke through 13,000 feet.  From then on I managed to stay high and did not test the lower sections of the band.  Looking at the traces from other pilots suggests that conditions improved in lower levels and that good lift could later be consistently found even at only 12,000 feet.

I tend to err on the cautious side and stay relatively high at the expense of climbing more often in less than optimal lift.  Others are more aggressive, stop less frequently, and assume a greater risk of “falling out”.  On some days one strategy works better than the other and luck can also be a factor.  If you’re relatively new to cross-country flying you’re probably better off with a somewhat more conservative approach: more altitude gives you more options to find good lift, reduces the likelihood that you have to waste time digging yourself out, and also minimizes your land-out risk.  You might not be the fastest but you will be more consistent and sometimes just as fast as those who push their luck a bit more. Your flight will also be a lot less stressful.

(8) Successfully Cross Blue Gaps

When I started to venture further away from my home airport, I was very concerned about blue gaps between clouds. When I came to the end of a street with a 5-10 mile gap ahead of me I often got cold feet and turned around.

The problem is that crossing blue gaps is often inevitable if we want to score Speed League Points (or fly XC in general).   Otherwise we may end up with too many legs over the 2 1/2 hour scoring window.  I.o.w., our best four subsequent legs won’t add up to a lot of miles even if we otherwise had a good and fast flight.

Blue gaps can be tricky like in this picture taken south of Granby heading west. Don’t just head straight to the next good looking cloud. Always look for small wisps above and fly exactly underneath them as you fly towards the nice cloud. Chances are good that this will allow you to arrive much higher at the cloud than if you had flown straight.

So how can we deal with blue gaps?

First, we should always look ahead so that we are not caught by surprise when we come up to a blue gap. The last cloud in a street may not work so well, so it is always a good idea to get close to cloud-base well before we reach the end of the street.

Second, we should assess the nature of the gap as best we can.  Does the gap mark an area of sink or is the air just dryer?  This may not be obvious but it is always a great idea to look for any kind of cloud activity.  Often there are tiny wisps across the gap and those are usually a good indication that we won’t fall out of the sky if we follow those wisps.  E.g., along the convergence it is fairly common (especially early in the day) that we run into areas with lower moisture but the convergence line is not interrupted at all.  We have to look for any signs of clouds across the gap, connect the ones we can identify into a line in our imagination, and then fly along this imaginary line just as we would if the gap did not exist at all.  More often than not, this works much better than we think!

Third, if we’re not confident that an existing lift line extends throughout the gap, we should treat the gap as a “transition”.  This means we should start high and “downshift”, i.e. fly more conservatively if there is a risk that we might get to the lower end of the lift band.  We must still accelerate through sink and slow down in lift but we should fly less aggressively than we would otherwise.  E.g., if we used MC 5-6 before to determine our Speed-to-Fly, we may decide to now use only MC 2-3 until we are confident that we are able to connect with stronger lift on the far side.

Fourth, a good way to monitor our glide performance throughout a gap is to set up a NAV box on the flight computer that shows the Current L/D.  I find this a better way of understanding the actual glide performance that I can achieve through the gap.  Understanding this is especially important in case I have to decide to turn around and fly through the same air again.

Fifth, if the gap is so wide that we don’t know for sure that we can cross it successfully we should decide upfront at what point we will abandon our attempt and turn around even if it means that we won’t achieve a good speed-league score. E.g., let’s say we want to make sure that we stay within glide range of Boulder.  In that case, we can set Boulder as our “Go-to” airport into your flight computer even if we’re heading away from it.  We should use a safe MC setting (i.e. one that is relatively high, let’s say 4 or 5, and keep track of the arrival altitude on your flight computer so we can turn around before we get out of glide range. (Also we must always make sure that we have set an appropriate arrival altitude.  The club recommends 1,500 ft AGL so we have an extra cushion and can still fly a normal landing pattern even if we encounter some sink.)

(9) Thermal Strategically

Every textbook on gliding has good tips about thermal centering and I won’t repeat those here.  It goes without saying that flying consistent, well-coordinated 45-degree bank circles at a consistent airspeed is a critical skill that we all must practice over and over again.  It’s also self-evident that we will do much better if we only stop for stronger thermals, center them faster, and continuously adjust our circles so that we are in the best area of lift.

In addition to these “standard rules” here are a few tips that are more specific to our conditions.

First, if in doubt, turn into the wind.  The best thermals are usually on the upwind side of the convergence line.  When we follow the line, we necessarily fly in a cross-wind (usually out of the west).  That means that on northbound legs we should typically turn left if we stop to climb, and on southbound legs we should typically turn right.  There can be exceptions of course but they tend to imply that we did not fly along the optimal line to begin with.

Second, observe where the best lift can be found under clouds.  The best lift tends to be on the upwind side and/or the sunny side. Fortunately for us, typical Boulder conditions mean that wind and sun tend to be fairly aligned with westerly winds aloft and the sun in the afternoon in the south west.  So more often than not, the best lift is in the south-west corner or along the western edge of the clouds.  However, if you notice it to be different on a particular day under one cloud, check if that is true for the next cloud as well. Chances are good that it is.  E.g., at one of my flights this year there was a 20kt wind from NNW and the best lift was consistently under the NW corner of the clouds.

Third, large clouds often have multiple cores.  If you find lift under a big cloud this does not mean that you have found the best lift under that cloud.  The best lift can be on the upwind/sunny side or underneath the darkest, flattest (or even concave) portion of the cloud. It makes a big difference to your overall speed whether you thermal at 2-3 kts or at 7-9 kts.

Fourth, if the lift is very strong under a cloud street, fly 1500-2000 feet below the cloud bases.  This way you can pull up in strong lift and fly faster through areas with weak lift or no lift. If you’re too close to cloud base, you’re forced to fly fastest through the strongest area of lift (so you won’t get sucked into the cloud) and fly slower through areas of weak lift or sink.  It should be obvious that the first technique will result in higher speeds.

Fifth, in strong positive surges it pays to turn into the wind and gently pull up (using the flaps if you have them).  If the surge persists, you can then bank steeply and might get the core on the first turn.  If the surge goes away quickly you can turn back on course and pick up speed again without loosing a beat.

Sixth, remember that it is always the weakest climbs that destroy your speed.  If you take all the climbs that are average or better you might not be the fastest of the day but you will do very well because you drastically reduce your risk of having to dig yourself out from down low in very weak lift.

(10) Optimize Course Deviations

Notice that I did not say “minimize” course deviations.  Flying straight is obviously the shortest way to go but very rarely the fastest.  If you can follow a lift line without having to stop and turn, course deviations of up to 30 degrees will almost always pay off.   (John Cochrane showed that a 30 degree deviation implies a detour of only 13%.  Smaller deviations have minimal negative effects.)  If there is a strong convergence, you may sometimes need to make deviations of 40 degrees from the course line and it will often still be be better than flying straight.

During my Diamond Distance flight last year, a convergence line near the end of a long soaring day saved my flight.  I was very happy to follow it despite a 40 degree course deviation.

(11) Strategically Decide When To Change Directions

The most important factor to scoring well in the Speed League is to not have more than three major course changes over the 2 1/2 hour soaring window so we generate four more or less straight legs.

Our best strategy is to follow a clear lift line for as far it is working well and to turn around and use the same line in reverse.

Sometimes we get to the end of the lift line but are in need of more miles in the same direction.  In this case it makes sense to stop in the last good lift, climb up high, continue in the same direction even if it means flying in no lift or slight sink and turn around at a point that will still allow us to get back to the same climb that we left before.  E.g., sometimes, going northbound, the good lift line will stop north-east of the Twin Sisters but we may need more northbound miles otherwise our leg is too short.  In this case we can take a high climb east of the Twin Sisters, head out further north (often in the blue), and then turn southbound in time to have enough altitude to connect with the climb that we previously left.  (We may also find out that we’re able to connect with the next lift line and continue further north over the Poudre.)

If there is a strong headwind or tailwind component, another tactic is to change course direction when we are low on an upwind leg, and when we are high (e.g. right after a climb to cloud base) on a downwind leg.  This way we benefit from the wind drift while climbing in both directions.

(12) Climb Back Up At the End of Leg 4

I already mentioned that the end of your 2 1/2 hour scoring window must be at an altitude equal to or higher than your altitude at the beginning of the scoring window.

This is very easy to overlook and a frequent cause for an unnecessary loss of Speed League points.  Hence it is very important to remember how high you were flying during the early parts of your flight and that you climb up to your low points during those early parts of the flight.

Pilots who’s flying style involves a lot of climbs and descents tend to have less of an issue with this rule than pilots (like me) who tend to stay relatively high.  If you go on Final Glide after TP 3, the portion of your last leg that is below the altitude at the point when your scoring window started, will not count for the Speed League!

Bonus Tip for OLC Plus Scoring: If you climb up high at the end of your fourth leg you will not only make your fourth leg count, you can then also use the extra altitude to turn your flight into a bonus triangle.  (This will count for OLC Plus but not the Speed League.)  To do that, head out into the plains to the edge of Class B airspace and then return back to the point where you released from tow to close your triangle.  (To close the triangle you do NOT need to be at or above release altitude.  You just need to cross any previous portion of your glide path that is necessary for your triangle to be “closed”.)  If you succeed in closing the triangle you will get 1/3 of your FAI triangle distance as bonus points for OLC Plus scoring.  (Note: This may not be practicable on days when you released far west and never had a trace near Boulder.  It helps to display the full trace of your flight on your moving map screen (and not just the last few minutes) so that you can easily locate the best place to close the triangle.)

Be Safe and Have Fun

Learning to fly competitively focuses your brain and is a lot of fun.  However, it must never mean that you relax your personal safety standards.  Do not become single-mindedly focused on optimizing your score.  Safety must always come first.  Always maintain a Plan B and a Plan C if Plan A does not turn out as you hoped.  If you can’t get a great score on a particular day you can learn from your mistakes and try again on another day! Not so if you ruin your glider or even your health.

Be safe and have fun!

Climbing Into the Boulder Convergence

This past Saturday we had another textbook convergence line form above the foothills west of Boulder.  Climbing into convergence was quite tricky – as it often is – but there are amazing rewards for those who can make it.

I was able to video tape my flight and since there were outstanding markers that showed exactly where the convergence formed, I thought I would put together some in-depth explanations for how to get there and how to follow the lift line once you’ve made it.

You can find all of that in the following video:

In addition, I have tried to summarize 10 key lessons for flying in Rocky Mountain convergence lift from Boulder.

(1) Find a good climb after releasing from tow and climb as high as you can.

If your first climb takes you to 14,000 feet you are probably already set and can head straight to the convergence.  However, on most convergence days, the thermals east of the convergence line will top out at much lower altitudes.  Above the lower foothills it is common that the lift will only extend to about 1,000 – 3,000 ft AGL.  It is therefore very common that your first climb may only take you to 8,000 or 9,000 ft MSL.

On Saturday there was no ground inversion and I was able to release in good lift right above the airport and climb up to cloud base, which was at 10,000 feet MSL.

Note: when there is a ground inversion over the plains there might not be any lift near the airport. If that’s the case you probably need to take a mountain tow to get into the first good thermal that can take you to cloud base.

(2) Once you’re at cloud base, head west towards the hills and look for lift that can take you a bit higher.

The goal is to get high enough to reach the convergence line.  How high you have to get depends on where the line is located and, therefore, what altitude you need to get there safely and be able to return to Boulder should you be unable to connect with lift.

If the lift tops out relatively low to the ground (at about 2,000 ft AGL or even lower) you will likely need multiple climbs as you head west.  Each climb is likely to take you a few hundred feet higher, commensurate with the increase in altitude of the terrain below.  E.g. 2,000 feet above Nugget Ridge will take you to 9,200 ft.  The same altitude AGL above Gold Lake will take you to 10,600 ft.

The convergence line might be as far east as the first hogback or it might be as far west as the Continental Divide itself.  The altitude needed to reach it safely obviously differs greatly based on how far west the line is located. Most of the time, the line is within a few miles (east or west) of the Peak-to-Peak Highway.

Weather forecasts can help you determine where the line is likely to be.  E.g., Skysight has a dedicated page for Convergence and will predict the location of the convergence line throughout the day in 30 minute intervals.  You can get essentially the same information by looking at vertical velocity on the RASP forecast. Note, however, that the position of the convergence is notoriously difficult to predict so expect the forecast to be off by several miles.

On Saturday, I found a climb over the foothills to the northwest of Gross Reservoir under a cumulus cloud that took me to cloud base at about 11,000 ft MSL.

(3) Look for markers that indicate where the convergence line is likely to be.

The convergence may or may not be marked.  Blue days are difficult because the line can be very hard to find and following it is also very challenging.  If there are no clouds at all, all you may have to go by is the “feel of the air.”

More often than not, there are at least some cloud indicators that show the position of the line. However, they are not always as easy to spot as this past Saturday.

This is what the sky looked like when I left my climb at Gross Reservoir at 11,000 ft MSL and continued to head west towards Nederland (at the right edge of the picture).

  • Overhead on the left of the picture are remnants of the cumulus cloud that marked the thermal I just left.
  • Left of the nose (towards Thorodin Mountain) are additional thermal-marking cumulus clouds, which have a similar base as the cloud that I’m just leaving.
  • But the most interesting clouds are the scraggly-looking clouds further west. In addition to their different shape and appearance you can also notice that the base of these clouds is considerably higher.  They are not ordinary cumulus clouds but are “curtain clouds” marking the location of the convergence.

Confronted with the situation shown in the picture above, it is evident that I have some ways to go before I reach the convergence.  (The curtain clouds appear to be further west than Nederland although differences in distance between clouds and ground features can be hard to judge.  Looking for cloud shadows may help make this assessment.) Also, it is critical to consider that the lift will not be directly underneath the curtain clouds but to the west of them!

(4) As you head further west, pay very close attention to any lift or sink and commensurate changes in your altitude and formulate a Plan B and a Plan C in case you don’t find the expected lift.

Knowing where lift and sink are can become critical if you are not successful finding a climb and have to head back east.  On days with sink you will need a much bigger safety margin than on days when the air is generally good.

In this picture I am now west of Nederland and rapidly approaching the curtain clouds.  Note that I am at 10,700 feet.  This feels quite low for the location where I am flying and I am mentally prepared to turn around immediately should I hit any sink.

However, I draw some reassurance from the fact that I only lost 300 feet since leaving the cloud near Gross Reservoir – seven miles further east.  The rim of Boulder Canyon is at 8,500 feet – this means that even if I lost more than 1,000 feet heading back east , I would still be more than 1,000 feet above the Canyon rim.  On some days (e.g. west wind days with the potential of wave or rotor) this would not be an acceptable margin at all but given the specific conditions of the day I decide to continue towards the west side of the curtain cloud and pledge to turn around as soon as I drop below 10,500 ft.

Note: I find it very important to always consider my safety margins well before approaching a critical decision point. Key factors that go into the decision are (1) the day’s conditions, (2) my skill, experience, and recency level, and (3) the performance of the glider I’m flying. I like to set hard rules for myself before approaching a somewhat marginal situation so that I won’t hesitate to take action before the situation becomes unsafe. (I also had a Plan C – to land at Caribou Ranch – in the worst case scenario of hitting substantial unexpected sink on the way back east.)

(5) Know where you need to be to connect with convergence lift.

The following sketch illustrates how I think of the process of getting connected with convergence lift.

The glider is approaching from east to west.  It climbs in thermal lift (shown in red) under a cumulus to cloud base somewhere over  the foothills.  From there it keeps pushing further west in the hope to reach the convergence lift (shown in green).

The scraggly curtain cloud is shown to the east of the convergence lift.  The curtain cloud always forms at the edge of the two air masses.  The eastern air is typically more moist than the western air.  Therefore the cloud forms on the eastern side.  The best lift is always west of the curtain cloud because the curtain cloud forms where the eastern airmass blocks the dryer western air from advancing east.  I think of the curtain cloud as a barrier for the westerly wind: the west wind has to move up in front of the barrier almost like it has to move up along a mountain slope when you’re flying in ridge lift. (This isn’t entirely correct because the eastern airmass is obviously not as solid as a mountain but this model is very helpful in establishing a mental framework for what’s going on.)

Note that convergence lift is very unlikely to come up from the ground because it forms as a result of two wind streams coming together.  At ground level there is too much friction and turbulence to form usable lift.

This means that the key to connecting with convergence is to be high enough to get into the (green) convergence zone.  If you’re not high enough you will not find a climb.

It is therefore important to take every opportunity to climb as high as possible when you are close to the convergence.  In the illustration I have shown a thermal (in red) just below the convergence lift.  The glider enters the thermal and climbs up to the top of the thermal.

You’ll often notice that at the top of the thermal the lift becomes very weak and unorganized because it gets sheared off by the west wind and and the air becomes more turbulent.  But very often you are now right at the cusp of making it, and with a little bit of luck you can continue your climb into the convergence.

When you analyze your flight afterwards you’ll notice that the wind drift in your climb changes half-way through.  As long as you were in the thermal, you kept drifting from east to west and as soon as you enter the convergence lift, the wind drift changes from west to east.

In the picture above I am approaching the top of the thermal that is right below the convergence.  The wind drift is still from east to west.  Seconds later, the climb rate weakens as wind shears the thermal off.

In the post flight analysis you can recognize the change in the wind drift half-way through the climb.  (You can best see this on the left side of the chart above that shows a 3D image of the climb.  Note how I drifted from left to right (east to west) in the bottom half of the climb, and how I started to drift right to left over the past three circles.)

(6) Be careful to conserve and top up altitude until you are solidly connected.

The illustration above has shown why a minimum altitude is critical to reach the bottom of the convergence.

One complication can be that the first contact with convergence may not be good enough to let you climb much higher.  If that is the case, you need to explore nearby to see if you can gain more altitude before you start to fly along the convergence.

If the convergence line is marked by clouds this should not be too difficult.  Look for any signs of air moving up and make your way to the upwind side of such markers.

In the picture above I am heading to the upwind side of the curtain cloud just to the left of the nose.

I turned as soon as I found lift and climbed up to 14,000 feet MSL.

You can now see that the wind drift is much more significant and firmly from west to east.   This is a clear sign that I am now established in the convergence.

(7) Once you’ve made it, everything becomes easy: just follow the line on the upwind side!

Depending on the strength of the convergence, you may be able to cruise fast in straight flight without circling at all.  Always stay on the upwind side of any marker clouds!  If the convergence softens, you may need to decrease your cruising speed, and if the convergence is weak or if there are big gaps in the line you may need to stop in stronger lift from time to time to top up altitude.

In this picture I am cruising northbound along the convergence from Mount Evans to Longs Peak.  I flew the entire ~45 mile stretch without a single circle and lost only 2,300 feet – an effective glide ratio of almost 100:1 at about 80-90 kts.  Not bad!

(8) Make sure you don’t fall out of “the band”.

We’ve discussed earlier that convergence typically does not reach all the way to the ground.  Therefore you must maintain a minimum altitude to stay in convergence lift.

The flying technique is similar to flying in ridge lift.  The best lift along the ridge tends to be at ridge top – not higher and not lower (unless there are differences in the steepness of the slope).   In convergence lift there is obviously no visible ridge top but I found that the lift tends to be best somewhere between the bottom and the top.  It rarely pays to fly at the top of the lift band because the lift tends to be weaker.  And you have to be very careful not to drop too low and fall out of the band!  (If you do, you have to begin the process of climbing up into the line all over again.  This is likely just as difficult and time consuming as it was when you entered the line and if the conditions change it might even become impossible.)

Be particularly careful if there are big gaps in the line of curtain clouds. Sometimes such gaps are just the result of reduced moisture and the convergence lift continues unabated between the clouds.  But sometimes gaps can also mean that the lift line itself is interrupted.

Approach such gaps with some caution and think of them as transitions, just as you would approach gaps along a ridge line.  You do not want to keep pressing ahead at full speed and then arrive at the next marker cloud too low to reconnect.

(9) Watch the lower lying clouds and always maintain an escape route

Flying in convergence may allow you to fly much higher than the cloud base on the downwind side.  In this sense, it is similar to flying in wave.  Always observe what is happening below you, especially if the cloud layer is becoming thicker and more dense.

On Saturday, the convergence line moved further west during the day and ended up directly above the spine of the Continental Divide.  At the same time, upslope conditions over the plains caused increasing low level clouds to the east.  When the sky to the east looked like this I decided it was time to pull out the spoilers and begin my descent below the lower lying clouds to the east.

(10) Have fun and fly safe!

Convergence conditions offer some of the most rewarding soaring in Boulder.  Flying in convergence is easy and fairly safe provided you stay away from other aircraft (a transponder and Flarm are highly recommended).  However, as discussed earlier, getting into the convergence can be fraught with risks – especially if the convergence line is west of the Peak-to-Peak highway and the thermal lift to the east of the line does not extend much beyond 11,000 feet.

I’m always trying to set safety margins that are appropriate for my skills and experience, the performance of the glider I’m flying, and the conditions of the day.  A large percentage of accidents happen because pilots delayed a critical decision and found themselves in situations that simply offered no safe way out.  Know your margins and always maintain a Plan B and a Plan C that you know you can execute safely if necessary.

My flight track is here.

A link to the video of the flight (with explanations) is here.

Condor – From Starting to Racing: A Brief Guide for Beginners

I’ve previously written about why Condor is a great practice tool for soaring pilots and recently I followed up with a tutorial for Condor pilots interested in joining multiplayer racing. Both assumed some basic level of familiarly with Condor.  This article is for anyone who would like some more basic help to get started.

Flying a Discus 2a during a multiplayer race at the border between Slovenia and Austria

What do you need?

Here’s what you need to get started:

  • A computer with a reasonable graphic card. (You do not need a high end gaming machine.)  Condor only runs on Windows but you can use it with a Mac under Bootcamp.  (That’s what I have).  You find the specific requirements here.
  • A decent joystick.  In my opinion, the best one for Condor by far is the Microsoft Sidewinder Force Feedback 2.  Other joysticks work but this one is the best.  It is long out of production but you can get one on eBay.
  • The Condor 2 software.  You can buy and download it directly from the source, or, if you’re in the US and would like to benefit from Paul Remde’s excellent support, you can buy it from Cumulus Soaring.  The standard version is perfectly fine but if you already know that you will want to fly a lot of different gliders, you can go straight to the Pro version.

In addition, although not necessary, I highly recommend that you get:

  • Rudder pedals.  This is particularly important if you fly (or intend to fly) gliders in real life because you will want to build the right muscle memory.  If you are not a real-life pilot you can use a twist joystick to control the rudder.  The ones I use are no longer available but any brand should do.
  • Infrared Head-tracking. This is huge because you control what you see on the screen by slightly moving your head.  Without it, you have to use the head switch on the joystick or your mouse to control what you see on the screen.  Neither of these options is intuitive and either increases your workload when flying. The head-tracker is expensive but hugely improves the experience. Before you buy it, check that there is no direct sunlight coming in from behind where you will be sitting when you use Condor.  Sunlight confuses the tracker and it will not work.
  • An external hard-drive to store additional sceneries.  There are dozens of Condor sceneries (landscapes) freely (!) available for most soaring areas around the world so you can fly in lots of great places!  These are very detailed and get larger and larger.  The biggest one is >200 GB.  And that is just one landscape.  I have a 3TB external hard drive where I store all my sceneries and I keep the software itself on the main drive of the computer.

If you want to go all-in on an immersive experience consider a VR headset.  Some people absolutely love them as everything is truly in 3D and you might forget that you are not in a real cockpit.  However, they are not for everyone. I have tried a headset and I much prefer the head tracking option and a regular computer screen instead.  (I find the headset heavy and uncomfortable, I do not like to have a screen directly in front of my eyes, and I like to be able to look at a print out of the task on a map while I’m flying.)  If you go for a headset, you will obviously not need an infrared head tracker.  Sunlight will be no issue for the headset.  Before you buy one, I recommend that you try one first.

OK, I have everything.  How do I set it up?

Setting up Condor has become fairly straightforward.  Just follow the installation instructions in the manual.

Ridge running in Slovenia during a multiplayer race. You can see two gliders ahead and two just behind on the screen of the flight computer.

Condor comes standard with a scenery for Slovenia (that’s where the company is based).

If you want to install additional sceneries (aka landscapes) go to the website of the European Condor Club, then go to the Landscapes  tab, and click on the link to install Condor Updater.  This is an excellent tool that will automatically install landscapes for you.  (This used to be a complicated process and is now totally intuitive.) You can see that there are many dozens of landscapes available already and additional ones are being added all the time.  (These are created by volunteers and are offered free or charge.  It takes a huge amount of effort to build one. Consider donating a little bit of money to the scenery creator if you find a scenery that you like a lot.) Also, do consider subscribing to the club.  This will give you more bandwidth on the server and reduce the time it takes to download sceneries.

You do not need to install additional landscapes before your first flights but once you’re hooked you will want to try other top soaring locations such as New Zealand, the Alps, the American West, South Africa, or the Andes, just no name a few.

After installing the software, and before you can fly, follow the instructions in the manual for “Setting Up Condor”.  The Graphics option allows you to tailor the detail to the power of your computer.  The better your graphics card and processor, the higher level of detail you can pick.  You may have to experiment a little bit.  If the software runs sluggishly, come back to this screen and reduce the level of detail.  If it runs perfectly fine, you can try to increase the level of detail.

This is the Setup Graphics Screen. You can see that my 2016 iMac (running Windows under Bootcamp) is perfectly capable of handling a high level or detail.

Work your way through each of the tabs.  I suggest you leave the default settings in most cases until you find that you really want to alter anything.

The main exception to that recommendation is the Input Tab (see below).  There you will want to make sure that you click “Assign Controls” (on the right side under “Options”) and program the buttons on your joystick.

The following screenshot shows the “Assign Controls” dialog.

Before you start to change things around, think about what functions you really want to have on the joystick vs. which ones you want to keep on the keyboard.  This depends in part on your joystick and how many buttons it has.

I recommend that you prioritize the buttons based on how often you expect to change things during a flight.  E.g., retracting/extending the gear, releasing water ballast, or using the wheel brake are all things that I typically only do once during a flight and which I have kept on the keyboard.  On the other hand, things that I do most often during a flight I have moved to the joystick, this includes: moving the flaps up or down, centering the trim, moving between screens on the flight computer,  zooming in and out on the flight computer, toggling the vario between lift/and cruise mode, and operating the spoilers (I use a lever for that on the joystick).

If you’re just starting out with Condor and are beginning with School or Club Class gliders (e.g. no flaps) your list of things that you do most often may be a bit different from mine.

Some things can be a little confusing.  E.g., some gliders have stick trim while others have a trim handle.  (The same is true in real life!)  There are different commands based on what trim the ship has.  If something does not work quite as you would expect it to, chances are good that you find the answer on the FAQ page.

When you’re done with the setup, I recommend that you make a list of the keyboard commands on a sheet of paper.  Appendix 1 in the manual provides a list of the default commands.  Be sure to note which ones you have reprogrammed!  There are so many commands that you may find this daunting.  In practice you won’t use all of them and you will soon have memorized the ones you need.

I’m done with the setup.  How can I get in the air?

Well, it is important to know how gliders work.  If you’re a real pilot this part will be fairly easy but there are still things you may find challenging at the beginning.  (E.g., I find aerotowing and landing to be harder in Condor than in real life.)

If you already know how to fly a glider you can jump right in.  On the main menu you find a button for Free Flight.   This will take you to the Flight Planner and the following window will pop up.

In the flight planner (look at the tabs on top) you set up a task (the route you plan to fly), determine key weather parameters, and pick a plane from the hangar (and set ballast and CG position).  Look at the “Free Flight” section in the Condor manual to learn to use the flight planner.

Under Notam you can pick other options related to your flight.  E.g., you can select between aerotow, winch launch, or airborne start (if you want to fly right away and not spend your time with launching).  Also take a look at the Realism settings.  If you’re only starting out you may want to enable thermal helpers for your first few flights.  These will miraculously show you where the thermals are.  There are also some other useful miracles for beginners such as plane recovery, height recovery, and mid-air collision recovery.  (In online races miracles are usually not allowed or their use is so heavily penalized that you cannot compete if you use them.)  You may not think you need a magic wand.  By all means try without one first.  However, you may soon find out that it can be quite handy when you’re just starting out!

If you are not a real glider pilot, your learning curve will be longer but you should be able to learn everything you need to fly Condor by working your way through Flight School.  You can find a link for Flight School on the main menu.  Start with Basic and work your way through all the lessons.  Flying is not easy but Condor makes the learning process as accessible as possible.

Even if you master Condor you will of course still need real life flight lessons before you can fly a real glider, but the chances are good that you will need fewer of them and your training will be less expensive.  Especially if you take the Condor lessons seriously and avoid  taking any shortcuts.  (E.g., if you’re starting in Condor with an eye towards learning to fly in real life, please use rudder pedals from the beginning.  Coordinating the control inputs from your arms and legs correctly is absolutely critical and you would have to unlearn muscle memory later and this could make your real flight lessons longer and more frustrating.)

I think I have mastered the basic flying skills in Condor. What should I do next?

Once you have worked your way through Flight School (or have otherwise mastered all the skills that are covered there) you should be ready to fly cross country.

Pre-start gaggle before a multiplayer race from Omarama, New Zealand.

Just like in real life, a great way to test your skills is to earn your soaring badges.  The Condor Club website makes this easy to do.  Go to Badges and Diplomas and fly the suggested tasks that are listed there.  Work your way through to earn your Silver, Gold, and Diamond Badges.

(Tip from a recent Silver Badge pilot: not all planes are allowed for all badges. Read the fine print to avoid disappointment.  E.g., for the Silver Badge you must fly a School Class glider without PDA (i.e., you must navigate by compass and ground features although turn point helpers are allowed – press “J” to see them) and you have to press S to take turn point pictures over your wing when you are in the turn sector just like it was done in the olden days (before GPS). )

Once you have done that (or you are at least confident that you can do it), congratulations!  You are ready for the pinnacle of Condor fun: multiplayer online racing!

There are a lot of online contests on offer.  The best way to check what’s available and suitable for your time zone is on the Competitions tab of the Condor Club.  Some races are more geared towards beginners while others are more suitable for experts.  Read the descriptions of the race series you’re interested in – they usually provide some clues as to who they are seeking to attract.

The Condor community is very friendly and welcoming to newcomers.  You can join a race even if at first you don’t want to fly the task.  It’s cool to learn some gaggle skills while flying with so many other pilots in the start area.  There’s no need to feel intimidated.  However, if you are, a totally “private” way of flying against other pilots exists as well: you can download a particular task from any of the race series and fly that task by yourself.  And you can even download the flight traces of others who have flown that task and set them up as “ghosts”.  This way you can see them on your screen while you are flying the task.  This is also a great way to practice getting faster.  Download the traces of a few good pilots and try to follow them around the course.

But sooner rather than later you will want to start to join your first live multiplayer races.  Whenever you’re ready, read this tutorial to shorten your learning curve.

Have fun!  I look forward to seeing you on the Condor race circuit!

 

PS: Here are some additional resources to find more information about Condor:

Condor Racing Tutorial for Newbies

As most of our gliders are grounded due to the Coronavirus pandemic, lots of pilots are flocking to Condor to spread their virtual wings and get their fix of soaring.  You can have a good time flying by yourself but the real fun starts when you fly with others.  And the pinnacle of fun is multiplayer online racing.  The racing environment is very welcoming and friendly but the learning curve can be steep – especially at the beginning.

Big gaggle before the start of a Condor multiplayer race during the “US Nightly Soaring” contest on March 27.  Not only can you fly with top pilots including National Champions and World Championship attendees, you can also enjoy the latest racing machines. Pretty cool!

Helping you to shorten the learning curve is the purpose of this article.  It assumes that you are already a proficient glider pilot (whether in Condor, in the real world, or both), that you are acquainted with the concepts of cross-country flying,  but that you have no or only limited racing experience.  You should also be familiar with the controls in Condor and make sure you have a suitable computer setup.  (Read this article to learn more about Condor – at the end you will find my recommendations for hard- and software.) Hopefully the following tips will help and encourage you join the fun of multi-player online contests.

The Basics

The purpose of racing is obviously to go fast.  In Condor, most races are “racing tasks”, i.e. the pilot who can get around a set course the fastest, wins.  Most of the scoring is based on the familiar 1000 pt model used in real world FAI gliding contests.  (There are exceptions such as “Grand Prix” style races and Assigned Area Tasks but both are rare.  This article focuses primarily on FAI racing tasks and what you can do to try to minimize the time you need to fly around the course.)

First, remember what you learned in your real life training about finding lift because Condor tries to simulate the real world (and does so quite well).

Ridge lift obviously forms on the wind-ward side of ridges and the strength of the lift depends on the strength of the wind (stronger is better), the angle between the wind direction and the ridge (perpendicular is best), the shape of the ridge (steeper is generally better), and your position relative to the ridge (all else being equal, the best lift will be near the top of the ridge). (Here is more information about ridge soaring in general).

Thermal lift is stronger in the mountains than over the flats. The best lift will be near the top of sun-exposed slopes, especially if the wind direction is the same as the direction of the sun.  If you look for lift under clouds, the best lift will be on the windward side of the cloud, especially if that is also the sunny side.  Conversely, be careful looking for lift under clouds in the lee of mountains, especially if you’re also in the shade.  Such clouds rarely work and if they do, the lift may only be close to cloud base.  Always, always pay very close attention to the wind and the sun.  Also bear in mind that clouds with a higher cloud base tend to indicate stronger lift than clouds with lower cloud bases.  And newly forming clouds tend to provide better lift than aging clouds.  (Did I say it was just like real life? It is.)

Wave lift forms in the lee of mountains under certain conditions.  A detailed explanation would go beyond the scope of this tutorial but again, remember what you learned.  (Here is more information about wave flying in general.) Most of the Condor races tend to be primarily a mix of ridge and thermal flying.  It is not very often that wave is a big factor.

Condor does not (yet) model convergence lift so this is one complexity less than in real life.

To race effectively, you have to first internalize these basics because only then will you have sufficient mental band-width to concentrate on all the other decisions you have to make.

Preliminary Route Planning

Just as in real-life you should plan your flight ahead of time.

First of all, you should read the briefing that is automatically emailed to you when you sign up for a race.  If you have a printer, I highly recommend that you print out the map of the task that comes as part of the briefing.  (Depending on the contest, the full briefing including the map may be available right away, or it might only become available 15 minutes before the server starts. In either case, print the map.)

The first thing you should do after printing the map is to draw a wind arrow on the map and take note of the wind strength. You cannot plan your flight route without that.  You should also take note of the maximum start height and any unusual turn-point properties.  (E.g., sometimes a minimum or maximum height is stipulated for a particular turn point, and sometimes a minimum height is stipulated for the finish.  You will get mad at yourself if you overlook one of those things. Ask me how I know.)

The next thing you should do is plan your intended course line.  Just like in real-life the biggest factor determining your speed is how effectively you take advantage of “energy lines”.  E.g., you want to fly in ridge lift wherever possible.  Even if the wind is so weak that you can’t climb, flying along ridge lines will help you sustain altitude and you will need to make fewer stops to climb.  And even if there is no wind at all, remember that the air will move up along sun-facing slopes.  So fly along such slopes if you can, not in the middle of the valley!  Remember that there will only be sink in the lee of any slope, so avoid those areas as much as possible.  If your route must take you through the lee to reach a turnpoint, anticipate that you will lose a lot of altitude while crossing those areas.

As you plan your route, pay very close attention to transitions between different parts of the task.

Your first transition typically comes right after the start because the start altitude is often well below cloud base.  Think about how you get going efficiently.  E.g., can you glide straight to a ridge or will you have to take a thermal first?

When you transition from the flats into the mountains, think ahead where the most likely spots are going to be that will allow you to gain the altitude you need to get close to the ridge tops.  (You do not want to find yourself near the bottom of a steep valley – you will lose a lot of time to dig yourself out from there – it you’re even able to do it.)

It is crucial that you identify any upwind transitions across mountain ridges.  I usually mark the altitude of the ridges (or passes) that I have to cross on my map and I estimate how high I want to be at the most logical point to climb before the transition so that I have enough height to get across.   There is nothing more frustrating than to approach a ridge from the lee and then have to turn around at the last moment.  You can easily lose 20-30 minutes with one such mistake.  (Or you might even crash.) If you’re having trouble judging how much altitude you need to make it over a ridge, this is a skill you can practice.  Daniel Sazhin suggests some specific Condor exercises for this.  You can find them here.

You should also think about transitions from areas with stronger lift (i.e. mountainous terrain) into areas with weaker lift (i.e. flats).  If you have been driving hard because the conditions were so strong it is very tempting to keep pushing as conditions deteriorate only to find that you get stuck and have to take a slow climb.  Thinking ahead pays off.

If there is significant wind, you should also consider the impact of the wind on the altitude at each of the turn points, especially on thermaling tasks.  Since you will drift with the wind when you’re circling you want most of your circling to happen when you are on a downwind leg and minimize any circling on upwind legs.  That means, all else being equal, you should round downwind turn points high, and upwind turn points low.  I usually write “Hi” or “Lo” next to each of the turn points on my map.

Finally, pay attention to the final glide.  This is just another special transition.  Think ahead as to where the final glide is likely to start.  E.g., if the finish is somewhere in the flats where the lift is weak you will want to start the final glide in an area where the climb rates are likely to be better.  Carefully look for terrain obstacles on final glide or the likelihood of sink if you have to fly in the lee of mountains.

Not all of the things mentioned above are equally important for every race.  Below is the map I marked up in preparation for the race on March 26.  With a bit of practice it only takes a few minutes to prepare.

You can see the start and finish is at the right edge of the map. The start sector is shown in green. I noted “14” in the start sector because the maximum start height for this task was 1,400 m. (I fly with my instruments set to metric but you can use Imperial measures as well.) My wind arrow is at the bottom. “19” denotes the average wind speed in kph. The black line is my intended course line. You can see that I planned to exit the start sector at the southern-most corner so I would be able to get right onto some of the low-lying ridges. (I wasn’t sure how well they would work, but at least they would help sustain my flight.) You can see how my intended course line follows the ridges along the entire first and second leg of the flight. Early on the second leg I marked “Hi” because there was going to be a transition to higher terrain ahead and I did not want to get too low in that area. (This may have been a bit too conservative as the winners seemed to gain on me in this area.) Just before the second turn point I marked “FG!” for Final Glide. This means, I intended to get enough altitude in this area to glide from there all the way to the finish. (The reason is that the area ahead was in the flats with weaker conditions. Also, the third leg was into a headwind and it is never a good idea to thermal on an upwind leg if it can be avoided.) The final leg is once again drawn to take advantage of small ridges to increase the average speed to the finish line.  (At the top left of the map, I marked SW: 20 min to indicate that there would be a 20 minute start window. I did not write down the settings for thermals and wind but I had looked at them carefully before the start.  If you’re just starting out it may help you to write those down. More about this in the next section below.)

Other Pre-Flight Decisions

As soon as the “join time” begins, you should connect to the server.  This will start Condor and load the task.  However, don’t jump into the flight right away!  Instead, take a close look at the Flight Planner where you find additional information about the day’s conditions.  Reading this is critical to finalize your route planning and to make decisions about the glider you intend to fly (what glider, how much ballast, and CG position).

In particular, pay close attention to the “Weather” tab and each of the four sub tabs: wind, thermals, wave, and high clouds.  E.g., in addition to wind strength and wind direction, you will learn how much variability there will be for each of those factors.

Take a close look at each of the 4 tabs in the Flight Planner under “Weather”. The wind is obviously one of the most critical factors affecting the flight.  If there is a significant variation in wind speed, assume that the wind will be stronger at altitude and weaker near the ground. In general, the wind in Condor is more consistent than in real life, which makes ridge running more predictable.

On the “Thermals” tab you can find crucial information about the presence of cumulus clouds, the height of the cloud base, the strength and width of the thermals, the overall thermal activity, how much activity you can expect in the flats, and if there will be thermal streets.  Also note the variability of each of these parameters.

This screenshot shows the “Thermals” tab. In multi-player contests you obviously must not change any of the settings but it is critical that you read them carefully.

E.g., if there is high flats activity, if the thermals are wide and well-marked, and if streeting is high, you can expect that you will be able to do a good amount of dolphin flying, especially on task legs that are well aligned with the wind direction.  Your risk of having to land out will be very low.  On the other hand, if you’re dealing with blue thermals, the flats activity is low, and the thermals are narrow you can anticipate that any section over flat terrain will be very challenging.  In this case make sure to gain as much height as you need before you enter any flat section and fly more conservatively. Take a look at the wave tab to see if you should expect wave activity in the lee of mountains.  This is important to note even if you don’t plan to use wave lift during the flight because the presence of wave may cause some unexpected sink, especially if the wave is not marked by lenticular clouds.

The “High clouds” tab shows how much cirrus cover you should anticipate on the flight.  (In the real world, cirrus will cause thermal generation to be suppressed although I am not 100% sure to what degree this is true in Condor as well.)

Once you have taken note of these parameters and determined how they affect your route plans it is time to go to the “Hangar” tab and pick your plane.

If there are no handicap rules, pick the highest performing plane that is permissible by the race.  You can compare the performance of different gliders by looking at the polar graphs under “Settings” on the “Hangar” tab.  You can also look at prior contests that were held for the same plane class and see what gliders the winners used.   If there is a handicap in place the decision gets more difficult and depends heavily on the task.  E.g., if maneuverability is critical such as when having to thermal close to rock faces in high mountains you will want a different glider than when there are vast stretches of weak lift where you want maximum glide performance.

Ballast or no ballast?  Almost all Condor races that I have ever flown were won by pilots who flew with full water ballast.  I would say, definitely start the race with full ballast and only drop ballast if you can’t average more than 2-3 kts in climbs and there isn’t much ridge flying involved. If you drop ballast, it’s best to do it early in the race, ideally at the end of your first cruise / the beginning of your first climb.  If you hang on to full ballast for most of the race, it makes no sense to drop it towards the end because you will miss it on your final glide.

With respect to setting the CG there are many different opinions.  In my view, the overall performance difference of different CG positions is probably fairly minor.  In general, gliders tend to circle better with the CG aft and run better with the cg forward but I doubt that this is a big factor for the overall race outcome.  Experiment with different CG positions and find out what you like.  I tend to fly with a medium aft CG unless the task involves mostly ridge running and/or significant turbulence (you can see this upfront in the flight planner) in which case I put the CG forward.

On the “Hangar” tab you can pick your preferred glider. Then go to the “Settings” sub-tab and move the slider for water ballast. As you do so, you can see the effect this has on the glide polar. In most cases you will want to fly with full ballast. Then use the horizontal slider to adjust the CG position backwards or forwards.

The Start

Once you’ve finished the route planning and picked your glider, ballast, and CG it’s time to join the flight.  Most Condor races start “airborne”, i.e. you won’t have to aero-tow or winch to get up.  This is to safe all participants a lot of waiting time before the race gets underway.

At the left top of the screen a count down will tell you how much time is left for others to join the game.  Once the count down reaches zero there is a short delay until the start gate opens.  The delay is usually a few minutes and the duration is specified in the briefing email.  This is then followed by the start window time, i.e., the length of time that the start gate remains open.  This is also specified in the briefing email.  It could  be as long as an hour or as short as one minute.  If there is a “Regatta” start, the clock starts ticking for everyone as soon as the window opens.

Use the time between joining the game and the start of your race to get a feel for the day as you would in real life.  Sample a few thermals to get a sense of the thermal strength so you can set your MC to what you expect to achieve at the first thermal out on course.  If you have the time you may even fly out on task for a little while to check the conditions ahead, or, if the start is also the finish, you can take a closer look at the terrain on final glide.  The briefing may have specified a particular turn direction in the start area – it is usually left turns only. (Out on course you can turn in any direction unless you join someone else in a thermal – in that case you must circle in the same direction as those who were there before.)

Also, remember the maximum start height from the briefing.  The start sector on your Condor flight computer (typically a half-cylinder) is marked in red before the task opens.  Once the start is open and you are in the sector, the sector will turn green as soon as you descend below the maximum start height. Your race time will start running as soon as you exit the sector (except for Regatta starts).

Before the start you should decide where you want to cross the start line.  You should have already considered this in your route planning (based on wind direction and terrain) but other factors may come into play (such as the look of the thermals out on course).

Another tactical decision is to pick the right start time.  If you are the first to start you have no-one ahead of you to mark any thermals for you.  Instead, you will be marking thermals for everyone else.  On the other hand, if you start last and can’t catch up to anyone else you will have a lonely flight and can’t take advantage of other gliders at all.  So if you’re a relative newbie it may be a good idea to start early (although not first).  This way you have someone ahead of you and you will be able to take advantage of the fastest pilots as they catch and pass.  It’s a good idea to know who the fastest pilots typically are as this gives you a better idea who you may want to try and follow for a while. The fastest racers will often start at the back because this means they can use others ahead of them as thermal markers.

When it’s time to start, you will want to cross the line with maximum energy.  This means, the ideal start is at Vne and just below the maximum start height (obviously with flaps fully negative).  Doing so takes some practice. Condor is not very forgiving when you fly too fast.  You will flutter and your ship may break apart.  So be careful!  There is a good reason this type of start is no longer used in real glider contests! I usually approach the start line from a few miles back, close to VnE and I control my height with the spoilers.  (In real life you do not want to open your spoilers at VnE, so in this respect Condor is a little more forgiving.)  As soon as you cross the start line, ease the speed back to your intended speed to fly.  A common mistake is to fly too fast for the first few miles and unnecessarily destroy energy.

On the flight computer you can see that the start sector just turned green as I descended below 1500 meters (the maximum start altitude for this particular task). I am just about to cross the start line. You can see I’m a little slower than I should be. The ideal start is at VnE and just below the maximum start height.

If you didn’t like your start you can go back and restart as long as the start window remains open.   The last start counts.

Out On Course

Once across the start line you constantly have to make tactical decisions – just as you would in real flying.   How fast do you fly?  What climb rates will you accept?  What route do you pick above the terrain?  Do you divert from course to get to an attractive cloud or do you go straight?  What is the right altitude to leave a particular climb?  Your speed over the duration of the race is ultimately a function of all these decisions.

Some specific things you want to consider: not all climbs are created equal.  You only want to stop for the best ones unless you are so low that you have no choice.  How can you tell which ones will be best?  Again, consider the terrain, the angle of the sun, and the wind:  the best climbs will come off wind-ward, sun-facing slopes.  Clouds with high bases are better than clouds with lower bases.  New clouds are better than aging clouds.  Decaying clouds often only have sink under them. Watch the development of the clouds and get a feel for the cycle time.  If a cloud off in the distance looks great, it may be in decay by the time you get there.  Look for newly forming clouds as they often work best.

Centering lift takes time.  You don’t want to do it too often.  Beginners often try to take every climb to stay high.  This is inefficient, not only because you’re taking climbs that are weaker than average, but also because you have to center more often and each time you center you’re wasting time.  If you can anticipate where the best lift under clouds can be found, you will become more efficient because you will approach slightly to the side of where you expect the core to be and decisively turn the correct way.  Even better is the situation when other gliders are already centered in a thermal ahead and you can see them go up quickly.  If that’s the case, approach on one side of the circle and then turn so that you are directly underneath them.   (Make sure to observe their direction of turn as you approach – you must turn the same way for safety reasons.)

While taking too many climbs is inefficient, getting too low is inefficient as well.   First, you may be forced to take a below-average climb because that is all you can find within your remaining glide range, and second, thermals tend to be weaker, broken, and narrow as you get closer to the ground. (Once again, this is no different than in the real world!)  Furthermore, as clouds age, they may still indicate lift up high, but there may no longer be any lift coming from the ground.  So the lower you get, the less you can trust the clouds.  For all these reasons, almost all soaring literature will advise you to stay within the “working band” – this is the altitude band in which the average climb rates tend to be best.  Contest soaring – especially thermal contest soaring – is a game of chance and you have to constantly assess uncertainties and probabilities as you examine the sky ahead.  Which clouds look good?  How many of them are likely to work? What are the odds that they still work when I get there? What are the odds of new clouds forming or finding lift in the blue? If you’re interested to learn more about this fascinating topic, I recommend Daniel Sazhin’s articles “Soaring is Risky Business” and “Modeling Gear Shifting“.

If you are on a cross-wind leg and you anticipate the need to thermal stay on the upwind side of the direct course line for any wind drift will make you move to the downwind side.  Your total flight route will be shorter if you account for this in anticipation.

To determine the best speed to fly take advantage of the built-in flight computer and set MC to the value of the anticipated average rate of climb in the next climb ahead.  Don’t pick the best (20 second) avg. climb rate that you expect to see in the next thermal but the total average that you anticipate to achieve from the moment you enter to the moment you exit, including any inefficiencies while centering.  I tend to use about 75% of the anticipated best climb rate in the next thermal. You can obviously get much more scientific than that.  I recommend this article by John Cochrane if you’re interested. (It’s about real life soaring but applies perfectly to Condor as well.)

Use the flight computer to find out at what speed you should fly given your MC setting but do not try to constantly “chase the needle”.  Constant speed changes are inefficient.  You want to fly with minimal control inputs when you’re cruising to minimize drag.  You can also use Condor’s auto-pilot functionality to let the computer fly the plane between thermals (pressing “P” during a race will turn the auto-pilot on and off).  You just need to make sure that it is trimmed to the right speed. (This only makes sense when there is no advantage to be gained by following obvious energy lines – either cloud streets or terrain features.)  Also make sure that you fly well coordinated and are not inadvertently slipping.

When you are flying in ridge lift, MC theory is of little relevance.  What matters most along the ridge is that you fly in the best area of lift.  Generally you want to be near the top of the ridge.  If you fall below it is important to slow down to get back up quickly so you can take advantage of the best air.  When you are well above the ridge you should speed up because you can fly faster if you stay near the top.  However, there are exceptions.  E.g., if you have to transition to higher terrain ahead, or if you prepare to cross an area of weak lift, you may want to slow down and climb well above the ridge as high as you need to.  Try to do that along sections where you anticipate the strongest lift.

Navigation is also crucially important.  Complex mountainous terrain can be confusing.  If you’re not careful you may find yourself in a different spot than you thought you would be at.  You may even suddenly find yourself in the lee of a ridge when you thought you were on the windward side.  One such mistake can easily be the end of your chances and it might even result in a land-out, or even a crash.  I always use the map view on the flight computer when I fly in the mountains and I compare what I see on screen to the map that I printed out before the flight.

Should you divert from course or go straight?  As with anything else, it depends 🙂  The factors that matter are how much better you expect the lift or the energy line to be along the course deviation, and how big the deviation is (in terms of angle from the direct course line).  The cost of a 10 or 15 degree course deviation is very minor and almost always pays off if you’re reasonably confident that you will gain even just a little bit of height (or lose less height) relative to going straight. Even larger deviations of 30 degrees or more often pay off.  On the other hand, if you’re moving 90 degrees off course you are no longer moving forward so this will only make sense if you are either desperately low of you just spotted an extraordinary opportunity (or both).  Personally, I probably tend to deviate a bit too much but most newcomers fall into the other category, i.e. they deviate too little.  Remember, what matters is the angle of the deviation from the course line, not the absolute distance from the course line!  Soaring champ and math guru, John Cochrane, demonstrated scientifically when deviations make sense.  Check here if you’re keen to dive deeper into this subject.

Always think ahead and be prepared to “switch gears” if the conditions ahead on course are likely to change.  It is easy to keep speeding along when you have been doing it for 15 minutes non stop even though the conditions ahead are likely to drastically soften.  Conversely, it is easy to remain too conservative when you have struggled to stay aloft and are entering an area where you should be ripping along at high speed.  Always fly based on what’s ahead of you, not based on what you are currently experiencing or what you recently experienced.  This is easier said than done as we all tend to be biased towards our most recent experience.

Also, do not blindly follow the herd.  Just as you are subject to recency bias, everyone else is as well.  It takes a lot of discipline to slow down and gain altitude ahead of a soft area when the folks you have been racing with for the last 15 minutes continue to press ahead.  It is much better to fly your own race than to blindly follow someone else.   The best learning takes place when you make a different decision than someone else and then compare the flight tracks after the race.  Did your decision pay off?  If the answer is yes, you clearly made a better decision than the the other pilot.  If the answer is no, what did the other pilot see that you had overlooked?

Final Glide

If you want to be fast you have to race until the end.  This means, don’t take a weak climb up to cloud base if stronger climbs are likely ahead.  Your last climb should be at least as strong as those that are likely to come.  How high should you climb? Use your flight computer!  Set MC to the actual rate of climb in the thermal that you are in and keep climbing until you are on final glide.  You may want to take one extra turn because you are going to lose a few hundred feet just to accelerate to cruising speed.  Exit the climb as efficiently as possible and get going.

Unlike real races that usually end at a safety altitude (e.g. 1000 ft AGL), the finish line in most Condor races is at the ground level of the airport where the race ends.  Normally you cross the finish line at high speed, pull up, drop your water, fly an abbreviated pattern, put the gear down, and land.

Since your life is not at stake, there should not be a mental hurdle to trust the flight computer.  There tends to be less unexpected sink in Condor than in the real world and it is very rare that someone ends up coming short. (Just be a bit more careful when the final glide is in the lee of ridges, especially if your MC setting is low.)

Once I am on final glide, I go to the final glide screen and make any fine adjustments to the MC setting such that my arrival altitude is exactly zero.  Once I have done that, I simply adjust my speed just to keep it that way.

Here the flight computer shows the final glide calculator. To race to the finish as fast as possible you can move your MC setting up and down until the red dot is right in the center of the target grid. In this case you can see that this is the case at a MC setting of 5.0. The arrival altitude is shown as -6m, i.e. basically at field elevation.  If your arrival altitude drops below zero, slow down a bit, and if your arrival altitude increases above zero, it’s time to speed up.  You want to arrive just at field elevation.

Even on final glide it is still very important to closely watch the terrain ahead, taking account of the sun and wind.  Small route deviations that keep you in good air will pay off nicely because they allow you to increase your speed.

A special case exists when portions of your final glide are likely to be in lift, e.g., when you are able to follow a windward ridge.  In this case, there is no need to take your last climb all the way to final glide altitude.  You can often get going with a significant negative value and make up the difference en route to the finish line.  Unfortunately there is no hard and fast rule for how soon you can get going because it all depends on the strength of the lift you anticipate to find along the way.  With practice and experience you will become better at estimating this.

Post Flight Analysis

The fastest pilots are likely to have a lot of experience and you are unlikely to get near the top of the score sheet until you have built some experience yourself.  The good news is that Condor-Club gives you easy-to-use tools to compare your flight to those of others.  It is very interesting to find out where you lost time against the winners.   If you want to take it to the next level, you can even download the flight traces in .igc format and compare them using See You or other flight analysis software.

Condor Club lets you compare your flight trace against those of others. It is very interesting to compare your choices against those that others made during the race and find out where you gained and lost ground against your competitors. It is often surprising to see how big the route deviations are between pilots who finish within seconds or minutes from one another.

Condor also allows you to use a downloaded trace from a competitor and set it up as a “ghost” that you can fly against.  You can even refly a task against your own “ghost” and see how much you can beat your previous time.

Conclusion

I hope this little tutorial has been helpful and inspires you to join the Condor racing circuit!  There is no doubt in my mind than many of the skills learned here will make you a better cross-country pilot in the real world (whether you’re racing or not).  However, please always keep in mind that this is just a simulator!  Condor encourages you to take risks that you should never assume in reality.  Make sure that stays front and center in your mind.

Now, come and join the fun!

My Soaring Goals for 2020

The purpose of this short post is to review my progress as a soaring pilot in 2019 and to lay out some objectives and aspirational goals for 2020.

Flying SSB’s DG505 with Gregg Davis above Mount Nebo near Nephi, Utah.

My Progress in 2019

Basic Stats

  • 39 glider flights (12 in DG 505, 27 in Discus CS)
  • 120 glider hours (my new total is 319 hours)
  • My average flight duration was just over three hours.  My longest flight was 7 hours and 14 minutes. 9 of my flights were longer than 5 hours.
  • Soaring sites: KBDU (Boulder) and U14 (Nephi)

Badges and Certificates

  • I got one step closer to attaining my Diamond Badge by completing Diamond Distance (a pre-declared 500km flight) on my 6th attempt (the only component missing is Diamond Altitude, i.e. a 5,000 meter altitude gain upon release from tow).
  • Upgraded from private pilot to commercial pilot by obtaining my commercial pilot certificate.

OLC Results

  • I flew on 8 out of 19 OLC Speed League weekends and finished six times among the top three pilots flying for the Soaring Society of Boulder. These six scores were (beginning with the most recent): 1/9 (first out of nine contenders); 3/9; 2/8; 3/8; 2/5; and 3/4.
  • Speed League Championship: worldwide I finished the year among the top 1000 pilots for the OLC Speed League (rank #942 out of 10,830 participating pilots). In the United States I came in at rank #122 out of 756 participating pilots and in Boulder I ranked #11 out of 37 participating pilots.
  • OLC Plus Championship: worldwide I achieved rank #1,357 out of 14,087 participating pilots. In the United States I came in at rank #71 out of 1,043 participating pilots and in Boulder I ranked #6 out of 46 participating pilots.

Contest Preparation

  • To prepare for future soaring contests I attended the OLC camp in Nephi in June/July of 2019.
  • I conducted extensive research into understanding terrain, weather, and land-out areas at the locations where I will be flying my first contests (Montague, Nephi).
  • Before the soaring season I participated in a few soaring contests on Condor, which I find to be an excellent practice tool.

Safety and Risk Management

My Soaring Goals for 2020

  1. Stay safe by always heeding my own advice.
  2. Move up to flapped gliders, fly with water ballast, and learn to responsibly use an engine.
  3. Have fun flying my first soaring contests (I’m signed up for the 2-seater Nationals in Montague, CA; and the Region 9 Sports Class in Nephi, UT). My goal is to complete all tasks provided that I can do so without taking any safety risks. (My position on the score sheet is secondary given that these are my first contests.)
  4. Contribute to my club’s OLC Speed League results by scoring among the top three Boulder pilots on 10 or more Speed League weekends. My stretch goal for the OLC Speed League is to score among the top 5 Boulder pilots and among the top 50 US pilots overall.
  5. Complete a flight of more than 750km. My stretch goal is 1000km.
  6. See goal #1.

Competing and Survival: Managing Risks in Soaring Contests

Glider racing above unlandable terrain in Utah, United States

As I am preparing for my first soaring contests in 2020 I have been thinking a lot about managing risks in soaring competitions.  Will I be tempted into taking risks that could threaten my safety?  How can I recognize risks in advance?  Are all risks bad and must be avoided? Won’t I have to take risks in order to compete? Are the winners typically those who take the greatest risks? Is it even possible to compete and stay safe?

It took me a while to sort through these questions and I may not have all the answers.  But here’s an attempt at addressing them and I am satisfied that it leads to a good place.

When we talk about risks and soaring we usually refer to Safety Risks, i.e. the likelihood that a person will be harmed (injured or killed) by participating in a hazardous activity.  I recently published two articles on this subject entitled “The Risk of Dying Doing What We Love” and “Does Soaring Have to Be So Dangerous?“.  For obvious reasons we want to keep our safety risks as low as possible.

But, like most sports, soaring also involves another kind of risk that is best referred to as Sporting Risk.  Sporting Risks should be understood as a player’s gamble in a competitive game:  if the bet is successful, the player stands to gain in competition; if the bet is unsuccessful, he or she stands to lose. E.g., a tennis player who places his shots close to the lines takes the gamble that his balls will land inside the court and be difficult to return.  If the gamble is successful he stands to gain the point, if the gamble is unsuccessful, he loses the point.  A slalom skier who takes tight turns around the gates takes the gamble that she will ski the most direct line and round each gate correctly. If the gamble is successful she stands to win by scoring the fastest time, if her gamble is unsuccessful (i.e., if she misses only one single gate) she fails to complete the course and loses the race.

While we must keep our Safety Risks as low as possible, this is not the case for Sporting Risks:  a tennis player who plays only safe shots makes himself vulnerable to attacks from his opponent, and a slalom skier who gives each gate a wide berth will be too slow to win a race.  Conversely, a very high risk strategy might pay off now and then but it is unlikely to succeed in the long run: a tennis player who places every single shot close to the line will accumulate too many unforced errors, and a slalom skier who tries to round each gate within fractions of an inch will not complete enough runs.  Sporting Risks must be optimized instead of minimized.  The player has to find the right balance between offense and defense.  A “Goldilocks” approach wins.  (Watch Mikaela Shiffrin, already one of the greatest slalom skiers of all time, getting this balance perfectly right.)

Sporting Risks in Soaring

If you practice soaring as a sport, i.e. as soon as you venture beyond a safe gliding distance to your home airfield (you don’t even have to fly in a contest), you are confronted with sporting decisions and Sporting Risks.  John Bird and Daniel Sazhin recently published a scientific paper that specifically proposes a (sporting) risk strategy for Thermal Soaring.  A simplified version appeared in two parts in the March and April 2019 editions of Soaring Magazine.

My summarized interpretation of their work is this: when we leave a source of lift and glide out on course of a cross-country task we can never know with certainty whether we will find another thermal. If we don’t, we have to land out.  Our likelihood of having to land out is a function of our sporting decisions: the course line we choose (e.g. how many clouds we sample through course deviations), our inter-thermal cruising speed, and how selective we are with respect to accepting lift.  The more aggressive we fly, the greater our potential task speed, and the higher our odds (our Sporting Risk) of having to land (and failing to complete the task).  John Bird and Daniel Sazhin show that our land-out risk compounds the more glides we need to complete the task because each glide is an independent event, i.e. we will be forced to land even if we fail only once to find another climb.  If we fly in a multi-day contest where even one land-out can destroy our chances of performing well, our Sporting Risk compounds across all the glides needed to complete all contest tasks. To succeed, we must find the right balance:  if we are too cautious we will leave points on the table; if we are too aggressive we will end in a field and blow the contest result.  When conditions are strong with multiple reliable lift sources ahead we can fly fast and direct; when conditions weaken we must quickly “shift gears” and switch our focus on staying aloft.  In short: we must always strive to optimize our Sporting Risks and get the risk balance just right. The Golidlocks approach wins in soaring as well.

This is also illustrated by the following chart, which shows the attainable task speed on a XC flight as a function of a pilot’s sporting risk and his or her skill level.

Here is how to read this: the chart assumes a task where the maximum attainable task speed for a top pilot is 70kt. You can see that the pilot has to find the optimal sporting risk balance to achieve that speed. If she is more or less aggressive, her speed will remain shy of the 70kt. The chart also assumes that the minimum average speed to complete the task is 40kt. Pilots who are unable to reach 40kt will run out of lift at the end of the day and not be able to finish. Pilots with medium skill can only get to 60kt even if they get their own risk balance perfectly right. (Setting realistic expectations based on one’s skill set is therefore important, and inexperienced contest pilots should not be disappointed with themselves if they can’t get close to the performance of the top pilots even if they perceive that they have done everything right.)

John Bird and Daniel Sazhin have taken the question of how to optimize the Sporting Risks in soaring one step further and proposed that we should adopt one of two different mind frames or “gears” depending on the situation we are in: if the conditions ahead look promising, we should focus on “racing”, i.e. progressing forward on task as directly as prudently possible while flying at MC speeds; if things look bleak, we should shift down and focus primarily on avoiding a land-out while still trying to move forward on task if possible.  Their thinking is supported by thousands of computer simulations, which show that this approach is likely to yield a winning strategy.  I like the approach also for its practical simplicity: two gears are a lot easier to operate than many.  Look up their work as it explains this in a lot more detail.

Risk Management in Soaring is More Complex Than It Is In Other Sports

One aspect that makes soaring different and particularly challenging is the unusually complex interplay of Sporting Risks and Safety Risks.  Various sports tend to fall into one of the following categories:

(a) Sporting Risks can be Independent of Safety Risks.  In many sports the safety risks are completely unrelated to an athlete’s decision making during a competition.  E.g., while tennis players have an elevated risk of getting injured, that risk is not a function of how aggressively they place their shots.  When they decide to play, they accept the Safety Risk (which isn’t very high to begin with) as a given and can focus entirely on managing the Sporting Risks.  (The same is true for sports where the Safety Risks are negligibly small.)

(b) Sporting Risks and Safety Risks can be Aligned.  In many high-risk sports the Safety Risks are a direct function of the Sporting Risk.  E.g., a race car driver must manage his Sporting Risk by driving right up to the edge of where the car remains on the track (but not beyond).  When his Sporting Risk increases, his Safety Risk increases as well.  The two types of risks are perfectly aligned, which means the driver can keep his entire focus on going as fast as possible, just not any faster.

(c) Unfortunately, in some sports, the Sporting Risks and Safety Risks are Misaligned.  Soaring falls into this category: in our sport, the relationship between these two types of risks is highly complex. This is problematic because the pilot must constantly manage (i.e. minimize) their Safety Risks, while also trying to manage (i.e. optimize) their Sporting Risks.  This challenge can be confusing and at times even overwhelming.

The Complex Relationship of Sporting Risks and Safety Risks in Soaring

The following characteristics make soaring risk management particularly challenging:

(1) Not every Sporting Risk involves a Safety Risk

A pilot who rips through the air at 90-100 kts and skips all but the strongest thermals will certainly take a high Sporting Risk.  However, if she always keeps a landable field in safe glide and readily switches from thermaling to landing mode when she’s down at 1000 ft AGL she is not taking a Safety Risk at all.

(2) Life-threatening Safety Risks exist even in the absence of Sporting Risks

A very conservative pilot who flies at MC 0 with a safe arrival altitude of 1,500 ft programmed into his computer might run into a 2-3 minute stretch of 500 fpm sink on final glide, lack the energy to reach the airport, try a low thermal safe two miles shy of the runway, stall and spin in.

It’s critical to notice that the “conservative” MC 0 setting actually contributed to the accident. From a safety standpoint, MC 0 is the riskiest setting to calculate a final glide because it presumes a still airmass and that we are able to fly perfectly at best L/D.  A more “sporty” setting of MC 3 or 4 would have been a much safer choice because it would have given the pilot an additional built-in margin. If you’re not sure why that is, I recommend you read John Cochrane’s article “Safer Finishes“.

(3) Sporting Risks can quickly become life-threatening Safety Risks

Consider the following example (from “Perspective: One Contest Pilot’s View…” by Dave Nadler, Soaring Magazine May 1987).  “First day of the contest. … I leave the ridge near the turn point, seeing a gaggle. Everyone in the gaggle knows that this thermal will make the difference between a completion and a land-out, on day 1. Pressure’s really on. But the gaggle is not going up. I leave, hoping the others will call it quits and final glide out to the beautiful fields in the central valley, while they can still get past the low obscuring front ridge. I coast down to the turn, click my photo and coast up the valley, picking fields. Pattern altitude, and a nice landing on a lovely golf course fairway. As I taxi off, the panicky radio calls start. Somebody tried to hang on too long in that gaggle, refusing to admit that the day was over until too late. The violent crash was seen from the air. Nobody dares land to offer assistance, the ‘field’ is way too dangerous. Which one of our friends is dead now? Just one day, 3.5 hours of flying, already one dead and two crashes.”

If your mind is focused on the task and making choices to optimize the sporting risks, it can be easy to overlook that a particular choice is no longer just a sporting bet but also a potentially life-threatening safety risk. In the example above, Dave Nadler himself clearly recognized the safety risk in time and switched from Sporting Risk Optimization to Safety Risk Avoidance.

However, it is quite possible that the fateful pilot who tragically lost his life was entirely focused on flying the task and decided to join the gaggle as a sporting move (his priority set to “staying up”) without even noticing that he was too low to “get past the low obscuring front ridge” and “glide out to the beautiful fields in the central valley”.  By the time he realized it, he may have already been trapped in an unlandable area.  And so he kept trying to dig himself out until it was too late!  Up to a certain point in time he could have saved himself by deciding to execute a controlled crash landing in an ill-suited field, or by jumping out with the parachute.  But who can really be certain that they would make such a choice under extreme stress and while being entirely focused on trying to climb?

How Can We Manage both Sporting Risks and Safety Risks?

If we consider this complexity and the stress that can arise in the cockpit we can understand why even highly experienced pilots routinely maneuver themselves into situations from where there is no escape.

But understanding alone isn’t enough.  We need a recipe, a decision making model, that we can apply in the cockpit to help ensure that we think the right thoughts and do the right things!

As I began working on this I got good input and feedback from Daniel Sazhin who helped me realize that our observations, our judgements, our decisions, and ultimately our actions are all guided by our priorities.  If our priorities are wrong or even just unclear, we might not even see what we need to see; we might not form judgments about the things that need to be judged; we won’t decide the things we need to decide; and our actions will not get us to where we really need to go.

Even if our priorities are right, there is plenty of opportunity for us to make mistakes at each of these subsequent steps (observing, judging, deciding, and acting), but if we have our priorities wrong, we might already be doomed from the start.

The following schematic illustrates how all our decisions and actions flow from our priorities:

Let’s go back to Dave Nadler’s example.  If the fateful competitor had his top priority set to “I have to prevent a land-out”, he would have scanned the sky for clues that might help him achieve this objective.  When he saw the gaggle, he might have made a snap judgement that there must be a workable thermal allowing him to realize his objective. So he quickly decided to join the other circling gliders.  Only after he got there did he realize that the air actually was not going up and that a ridge obstructed his glide out to the land-able fields.  (This is of course speculation since we can’t ask the deceased pilot.  But it’s easy to see how it could have happened exactly like this.)

What could have prevented this outcome? It’s actually quite simple: he would have needed a different priority!  Had his top priority been “I must be safe if things go wrong” he would have scanned the sky and the terrain differently.  He surely would have looked for land-able areas and noticed the ridge that ended up blocking his glide to the fields.  He would have formed judgments about how high he would need to be when joining the gaggle in order to keep a field in safe glide.  As a consequence, his decisions and actions would likely have been very different.  (Btw – if you’re certain that you would have noticed the ridge even if your focus was squarely on preventing a land-out, remember this experiment.)

We always say that safety is our number one priority.  But this is just an abstract statement unless we make it actionable. How can we do that?

I would like to propose a simple and practical way to do this by stack-ranking our priorities like in Maslow’s hierarchy of needs.  Our first priority, which must guide every single decision, must always be to stay safe.  Only if and as long as this need is satisfied can we concentrate on our Sporting Risks.  Our second priority is staying up, i.e. preventing a land out. And only if we are high enough that we don’t have to worry about having to land out can we concentrate on racing, i.e. going fast. Our pyramid looks like this:

Aside from being very simple and easy to remember in the cockpit this basic model has a number of key benefits:

(1) It ensures that we think ahead and consider potential Safety Risks whenever we consider a particular plan of action (and not only once we find ourselves in trouble!).

(2) It clearly delineates “Being Safe” and “Staying Up”.  These two priorities are easily confused but they are absolutely not the same.  Trying to stay up when it is no longer safe to do so is the single most frequent cause of fatal accidents (as I’ve demonstrated before).  We must only focus on Staying Up as long as it is safe to do so!

(3) It gives us a blue-print to prioritize our Safety Risks and our Sporting Risks and it is aligned with the “gear-shifting” model as proposed by John Bird and Daniel Sazhin.  If the conditions on course ahead are poor we should focus on staying up while continuing to progress forward on course, but only if and as long as it is safe to do so.  And if the conditions ahead are strong and we are high enough that we don’t have to worry about staying up, we can concentrate on racing, but also only if and as long as it is safe to do so.

The following flow chart illustrates how we can apply these priorities to formulate, assess, and constantly revise our plan of action as we learn new information. (The colors are aligned with those used in the pyramid chart above.)

When we’re in the cockpit we are repeatedly assessing our situation and are making plans for what to do and where to go.  This is shown by the blue box in the upper center.  Thereby we must always test our plan of action against our priorities.

(1) We must always test the plan for safety first and ask “Will I be safe if things go wrong?” If the answer is no or even if we’re not sure, we must try to adjust our plan to eliminate the safety risk, or incorporate a contingency plan, i.e., an alternative Plan B or Plan C if Plan A does’t work out as we hope it will.  If we can’t think of any way to do either of these things, we are already in a precarious situation: we have no choice but to execute a plan that could endanger our safety.   If that is the case, we should also make an emergency plan to safe ourselves in case our only plan does not work out.  (E.g.: the pilot in Dave Nadler’s example could have saved himself by bailing out in time or by executing a controlled crash landing. Check with your parachute rigger at what altitude you can still deploy your chute.  You might be surprised how low it will work!)

(2) If our plan passes the safety check, we’re ready to test it against your Sporting Risk tolerance.  If we’re concerned about having to land out we should be flying in our low gear and focus on staying up while trying to progress on task only as far and as fast as our Sporting Risk tolerance allows.

(3) If we are satisfied that our land-out risk is below our Sporting Risk tolerance threshold, we can focus on racing, i.e. we can fly at McCready speeds and follow the best energy lines.

As we execute the plan, we must watch out for new information that could change our assessment.  Our next step will be to test our plan for Safety again so we know we have to look out for information that could impact our safety assessment.

The model is a continuous loop and requires us to cycle through this thought process on an ongoing basis.  We tend to get in trouble when we are so wrapped up in execution that we fail to take in new information, especially new information that would change the results of our safety test.  E.g., it is possible that the pilot in Dave Nadler’s example joined the gaggle at a time when he was still high enough to glide to safety and that he then got so focused on thermaling in unworkable lift that he did not notice that he had dropped below an altitude at which he was no longer able to cross the ridge and reach a field. Had he reassessed the situation at the time of joining the gaggle and tested  his plan for safety he would have surely noticed the ridge and the importance of leaving the gaggle when a safe glide out was still feasible.

We must also remember that we are always testing our plans and not just our current situation!  This is an important distinction because it requires us to “stay ahead of our aircraft”.  If we do this consistently we can avoid getting into a situation where a dangerous Plan A is our only option.

The practical application of the model works best if you have considered your Personal Safety Minimums and your tolerance of Sporting Risks before you get into the cockpit.  This is shown by the two boxes at the upper left of the flow chart.

Your Personal Safety Minimums should be appropriate for your skill level, your experience, your equipment, the terrain you’re flying in, the weather conditions, etc.  They might include criteria such as “I will never thermal below x feet AGL”, “I will never fly closer than x wingspans from terrain”, “I will never blindly follow another glider”, “I will always keep a landable field in a glide assuming MC 3 or higher and an arrival altitude of x feet AGL.”  Having these minima in place will make it easier to answer the question “Will I be safe if things go wrong?”  If you’re confident that you’ll stay within your personal minima you should be pretty safe.

Your Personal Sporting Risk Tolerance is primarily about your willingness to accept a higher or lower land-out risk.  E.g. if you are attempting to set a new speed record, you will need to have a high risk tolerance and it may take you several attempts until you succeed (the other times you will land out).  If you want to win a multi-day competition with long daily tasks all of which you have to complete, your risk tolerance will have to be much lower. Your experience and skills might play a role as well; however, you should be comfortable with the possibility of a land-out before you go on any cross-country flight. Your Sporting Risk Tolerance helps you answer the question, “Is my land-out risk acceptable?

If you consider the flow chart too complex to use in the cockpit then try to remember at least the simple hierarchy of needs as shown in the pyramid chart.  The most important thing is to always ask “Will I be safe if things go wrong?” before you get into a situation where this is no longer the case.

Do We Have To Take Safety Risks To Win A Soaring Contest?  In Other Words: Do Reckless Pilots Have a Competitive Advantage?

The history of soaring is full of stories of bravery (or lunacy, depending on your perspective), where soaring pilots “polished the rocks”, “dug themselves out from the height of a barn”, “scraped across the ridge”, or “pulled up over the trees with no energy to spare” to glide to victory.

It is easy to see why pilots may have benefitted competitively by taking such safety risks.  Such behavior must have helped pilots prevent land-outs, or cross the finish line minutes earlier than they would have been able to do had they stopped for another climb.  They scored higher points and may have even garnered the win on a contest day by flying recklessly.

But does this also mean that pilots who are willing to take such great risks are gaining a competitive advantage in the long run (provided they survive)?  If so, we should find that the winningest pilots are also the ones who take the greatest risks.

Last I checked, pilots didn’t wear badges that show how how many life threatening gambles they have already survived. Accident statistics are also not a good source because a single accident is often enough to end a particular contest pilot’s career (or life).

Unfortunately, I don’t think real life provides the data that would allow us to answer this question conclusively.  But there is a next best thing to study: Condor.  More specifically: the accident rates of pilots participating in the highest level of multi-player Condor racing.

Insights from Condor Racing

Wanting to find an answer to this nagging question, I analyzed the results of the last three years of a race called “Condor World Cup”.  It is hosted by the European Condor Club and has been the most competitive race series over the past three years with almost 300 participating pilots who completed a total of 3,683 race flights.  122 of these pilots finished at least 10 individual races in this particular competition.  These are the ones I decided to study.  In particular, I wanted to know if those who consistently achieve the highest average point scores are also the ones who have the highest crash rates.

The results are very clear but they show exactly the opposite!  Pilots who consistently achieve the best scores actually have the lowest crash rate: pilots who scored more than 900 points on average per race only had a crash rate of 4%; those who scored less than 600 points on average per race had a crash rate of 30%. The following chart shows the crash rate of pilots based on the average point scores that they achieved in the races that they completed successfully.

The chart shows the average crash rate for competitors that achieved average point scores within the indicated ranges. Only completed races count for the calculation of the average score per race. I.e., if a player crashed during a race, their (zero or even negative) score for that particular race is not included in the calculation of the average. This ensures that the calculation does not penalize a pilot for crashing, and it makes the results even more astonishing: even if there is absolutely no penalty for crashing, those who win most often are those who crash least often.

This is great news for us because it shows that we do not have to take great risks to win a soaring contest! In fact, the opposite is true: those who take the greatest risks tend to end up at the bottom of the score sheet, and those who fly the safest are also the ones who tend to score the highest.

As expected there are some cases where pilots with high crash rates occasionally won a single race.  But those cases are a rare exception and these pilots will typically score very poorly on average!

There are of course limitations to using Condor as a proxy for the real world. By far the most important one is the fact that there are actually no Safety Risks in Condor at all.  Even crashing is just a Sporting Risk because those who crash will get a zero point score or may be assessed a point penalty. But they can fly again the next day even though in the real world they would have destroyed their plane or even killed themselves.  But does this mean the results are not relevant for the real world? I don’t think so: if there were an advantage to be gained from flying recklessly, surely it would be greatest in an environment where the penalty for recklessness is tiny when compared to a real soaring contest.  And yet we see that even in an environment that is completely free of Safety Risks, recklessness does not pay off at all!

But WHY Is There No Sporting Advantage To Flying Recklessly?

The data from the Condor study are as clear as they could possibly be, yet they may still feel counterintuitive.  What about the pilots who dug themselves out from the weeds or who scraped above the tree-tops to a low energy finish?  Why aren’t those the pilots who typically win contests?

I believe the answer can be found in the model that I introduced earlier.  Take another look at it, and this time, focus on the green racing box.

The only time when we can focus on racing is (1) when we don’t have to worry about survival, and (2) when we also don’t have to worry about landing out.

In other words: to race we must be flying safe and high enough that we can give our undivided attention to following the best energy lines and maintaining racing speeds.   Once we drop down low, we must accept detours and fly at slower speeds.  And once we recognize that our safety is at risk, every other consideration goes out the door completely.  When we find ourselves in these situations we will most likely not be moving fast towards the finish line!

This does not mean that pilots can never get a benefit from a reckless maneuver.  The Condor study does show that pilots with a significant crash history will occasionally win a contest day. But more often than not, reckless flying gets us into situations that will slow us down or even grind us to a halt.  To win contests we must avoid these situations!

While we can thus surmise that staying safe is necessary to win contests, it is of course not sufficient. The winningest competitors are those who not only stay safe, but who also manage to find the right balance with respect to their Sporting Risks, and who furthermore have the necessary piloting and racing skills.  (The latter are not a subject of this article).

Conclusion

In this article I propose a simple yet holistic model for managing our Safety Risks and our Sporting Risks in soaring contests. One that helps us stay safe and compete.

The model is informed by the basic insight that our observations, judgments, decisions, and actions are framed by our priorities.  If our priorities are wrong, chances are that what we see, judge, decide and do will be wrong as well.

Our core priorities in a soaring contest are actually quite simple:  in order to go fast we must stay safe first, and stay up second.  I call this the hierarchy of soaring priorities: stay safe; stay up; go fast. It means that we can only race when the two more basic/vital needs are satisfied.

To manage these priorities during our flight, we must continuously formulate plans and test them against our priorities, always starting with “stay safe” at the bottom of the pyramid.   Our Safety Risk Tolerance should be informed by our Minimum Safety Standards, and our Sporting Risk Tolerance should be specific to our sporting objectives and the length of the task/competition.

We must remember that in soaring, Sporting Risks and Safety Risks are not directly related. Safety Risks exist even in the absence of Sporting Risks, and Sporting Risks can become Safety Risks.

Safety Risks must be avoided (principled approach).  A good question to ask ourselves is,”Will I Be Safe if Things Go Wrong?”

Sporting Risks must be balanced (Goldilocks approach).  A good question to ask ourselves is, “Is My Land-Out Risk Acceptable?”

Taking Safety Risks can provide a short-term benefit in competition (provided we don’t crash), but it does not convey a competitive advantage in the long run; not even over the course of a multi-day contest. In fact, the opposite is the case:  reckless competitors tend to find themselves at the bottom of the score sheet.  We must stay safe before we can even focus on staying up.  And we must stay up before we can even focus on racing. To be fast, we must maximize the time when we’re racing, and minimize the time when we are looking for lift down low or even trying to survive.

Staying safe is necessary but not sufficient to win races.  The winners will be those who fly safe, who appropriately balance their Sporting Risks, and who have excellent piloting and racing skills.

The great news is that we not only CAN stay safe and win.  The fact is that we MUST focus on staying safe if we want to have a chance at winning at all!

And that makes me feel better about flying my first contests.

 

 

Post Scriptum

I’d like to give special credit to Daniel Sazhin.  Daniel kindly critiqued my article “The Risk of Dying Doing What We Love” and encouraged me to think more about how we as glider pilots can reduce our safety risks.  When I responded with “Does Soaring Have To Be So Dangerous?“, he once again gave me something to think about when he pointed me to John Boyd’s OODA loop decision model, to which he added the critical insight that our observations, judgments, decisions, and actions flow from our priorities.  He also challenged me to explore if our frequent “failure at situational awareness” as discussed in “Does Soaring Have to Be So Dangerous?” isn’t just a consequence of us having the wrong priorities to begin with.  This was very instrumental in pushing myself towards developing the integrated risk management model presented here.  And this model could not have been coherent without heavily borrowing from the scientific paper “Bounded Rationality and Risk Management in Soaring” which Daniel Sazhin and John Bird published together earlier this year.  This work is referenced frequently throughout.

As I mentioned before I do not pertain to have all the answers.  But I am convinced that we can make our sport safer by giving more thought to the questions discussed. I welcome further critique and inspiration as it will help me and hopefully others to become better and safer soaring pilots. Have fun and stay safe!

Does Soaring Have To Be So Dangerous?

My last post titled “The Risk of Dying Doing What We Love” presented the results of a statistical analysis where I compared the risk of flying sailplanes to other things we love to do such as cycling, horse back riding, paragliding, etc.

I showed that the risk of dying in a soaring accident is approx. 1 per 50,000 flight hours, which makes soaring per activity hour about 2x as dangerous as riding a motorcycle, 25x as dangerous as cycling, 40x as dangerous as driving a car, and almost 200x as dangerous as traveling on a commercial airline flight.

The post struck a core. Within just a few days, it was read tens of thousands of times and many of you have shared your thoughts and asked really important questions. Perhaps the most important ones were:

Does soaring have to be so dangerous?

How can each of us make it safer for ourselves?

 

To answer these question I read, interpreted, and analyzed about 250 glider accident reports.  My main sources were Germany’s Bundesstelle für Flugunfalluntersuchung (154 reports since 1998) and the United States’ National Transportation and Safety Board (93 reports for the past five years).  I chose the US because that’s where I do most of my soaring and also because it’s a very large country with varied soaring conditions including flatland, ridge, mountain, desert, and wave soaring. Germany was a logical choice because it accounts for about one third of all soaring activities worldwide, and also because the quality of its accident reports is particularly high. In addition, I also reviewed the equally detailed soaring accident reports for Austria since 2010 (25 reports) and read the 2019 EASA Safety Report.

Classifications in the EASA Safety Report

The European Union Aviation Safety Agency (EASA) provides a statistical analysis of aviation accidents between 2008-17 in its 2019 Annual Safety Report (gliders are covered starting on page 108) that classifies glider accidents as follows:

a) By phase of flight.  21% of European soaring accidents happened during takeoff, 50% during landing, 12% on the landing approach, and only 17% en route.

b) By type of operation.  6% of accidents occur during competition, 22% during flight training, and 72% during pleasure flights.

c) By Safety Risk. The EASA report breaks fatal accidents between 2014 and 2018 down by what happened: 26% of accidents were the result of a “Stall/Spin”, 17% were a “Collision with Hill”, 10% were due to an “Incomplete Winch Launch”, 8% were due to “Loss of Control”, another 8% happened in “Other Flying”, 7% were “Mid-Airs”, 7% “Technical”, 5% “Misuse of Controls”, 4% “Aerotow”, 4% “Medical”, and 4% “Other”.

Each of these classifications conveys some useful information. E.g., we need to be particularly careful during takeoff and landing. Most accidents occur during normal pleasure flights. Flight training needs to ensure that student pilots learn to fly coordinated and at the appropriate speed. We have to be particularly careful near hills and mountains, etc.

However, none of these classifications actually tell us why accidents really happened. What was it that caused the pilot to fly so slowly that she stalled and spun in? What made him collide with the hill? What caused her winch launch to be incomplete?  Could he or she have avoided these outcomes? How?  To answer these questions, we have to dig one or two layers deeper and get to the root causes.

(Btw – the soaring accident reports of the National Transportation Safety Board in the US frequently mention “Loss of Lift” as the defining event of accidents.  Don’t we experience loss of lift all the time when we go soaring?  This really should not be viewed as a reason for an accident!)

What causes soaring accidents really?

My analysis shows that approx. 90% of soaring accidents were caused by pilot mistakes. (10% were not and we will get to those also.) Four fundamentally different types of pilot mistakes accounted for the vast majority of accidents:

a) Accidents where – through improper decision making – the pilot had maneuvered him- or herself into a situation where proper handling of the aircraft was either impossible and/or no longer sufficient to avert a bad outcome. That’s why I’m calling them “Fateful Decisions.” In most instances the pilot didn’t even actively decide to take on a great risk, he or she simply failed to make a decision that could have prevented the accident.  In other words, he or she allowed the safety margins to erode until it was too late. Examples include delaying the decision to land (at an airport or in a field); relying on an engine, flying too close to mountainous terrain; failing to stay within gliding distance to a save landing area; failing to interrupt a final glide when the altitude was not sufficient to reach the airport; failing to descend from a wave flight before the cloud layer closes; etc.

b) Accidents that were caused by improper handling of the aircraft and could have been avoided in the moment by good Basic Piloting Technique alone.  E.g., failing to maintain sufficient airspeed during a winch launch; flying uncoordinated through a turn; cycling the gear instead of extending the airbrakes; not knowing how to stop a spin at altitude; getting out of position behind the towplane; etc.

c) Accidents where the pilot’s Pre-Flight Negligence resulted in a situation where good piloting technique alone was of no help to prevent a bad outcome. E.g., assembly mistakes such as failure to connect the controls and/or conduct a Positive Control Check (PCC); failure to go through the pre-flight checklist; failure to communicate the presence of water ballast to the tow pilot, etc.  A very important special case of pre-flight negligence is the failure to have a specific pre-takeoff emergency plan.  Many premature release accidents were caused by the pilot waisting precious time and altitude before deciding what to do and where to land.

d) Accidents that were caused by Insufficient Situational Awareness of the people involved.  Most but not all of these were mid-air collisions that could have been avoided.  Insufficient situational awareness might mean inadequate radio communications, insufficient look-out, or simply the failure to observe warnings that are there in plain sight.

If you look at past accidents through this particular lens, the following picture emerges:

Approx. 88% of accidents can be explained by the three types of pilot mistakes outlined above.

Fateful Decisions / Eroded Margins account for ~40% of accidents and are the single biggest factor.

Basic Piloting Mistakes accounts for ~30% of accidents.

Pre-Flight Negligence is the main cause of ~12% of all soaring accidents.

Insufficient Situational Awareness accounts for ~6% of soaring accidents, most of them mid-air collisions.

The remaining 12% of accidents are either unclear (e.g. the cause of the accident could not be identified) or they were truly unavoidable.

The following chart summarizes my findings.  A more detailed analysis and discussion follows below.

Let’s examine each of these types of accidents in more detail and discuss what we can do to avoid them.

1) “Fateful Decisions / Eroded Margins” or: the Failure to Resist Temptations

Soaring requires constant decision making and decisions have consequences.  It is not surprising that the largest group of accidents (40% overall for the data I looked at, in the US the share is even greater at 44%) are the unavoidable consequence of a decision that the pilot had previously made or failed to make during the flight. In other words: by making a wrong decision they had gotten themselves into a situation where good piloting technique alone was not enough prevent a bad outcome.

There is logically no limit to the kinds of decisions that could get us into trouble.  However, a close look at accident reports reveals that most of these “fateful decision accidents” can be traced back to just a few types of mistakes.  Let’s look at each of these in more detail, approx. in the order of frequency in which they occurred, starting with the most common ones first.

Delayed Airport Landing – Failure to make a timely decision to land and stick to it

It may seem surprising but many fateful decision accidents happen right next to the home airfield when the pilot is trying to extend their flight beyond the time when they should have made the decision to land. Here are some examples:

There are many more accidents that follow this same pattern.  About two thirds end with a “stall and spin” and most of the other ones end with the glider colliding with a tree, power line, or another obstacle.

To avoid “stalls and spins”, student pilots are usually taught to fly coordinated and at a proper airspeed. This is of course good advice but it is not sufficient.  These accidents were typically not caused by pilots who did not know that they had to fly faster and coordinated.  The problem was that they had already maneuvered themselves into a situation where they were no longer able do that.  E.g., a pilot who finds themselves within feet of the tree tops on their turn to final is already in an impossible situation.  They could either keep the speed up and crash into a tree or they could attempt to get over the trees by pulling the nose up and using the rudder to keep the wings level.  They will of course try the latter but it is also the best recipe for a stall and spin.

These accidents continue to happen even though they should be quite easy to avoid.  All the pilot has to do is to enter the landing pattern at a safe altitude where the temptation to fly too slowly and/or too uncoordinated doesn’t occur to begin with, and where they have enough altitude/energy reserves to deal with unexpected sink or headwind on final.

What is a safe pattern entry altitude?  In my experience there is no standard rule of thumb that fits all situations.  In normal soaring weather and light winds a pattern entry at 800 ft AGL will be adequate most of the time.  However, I have personally experienced that even 1000ft can be too low for comfort.  And under extreme circumstances, you may want to be even much higher than that.

Delayed Land-Out – Failure to make a timely decision to land-out and stick to it

All of the accidents mentioned above happened right next to an airport.  Similar accidents also occur frequently during XC flights when the pilot delays a decision to land in a field.

In some ways, these accidents are just special cases of failing to make a timely decision to land. All of the considerations above – especially the need to make the decision at an appropriate pattern entry altitude – apply here is well.

However, land-outs must be given special attention because the decision to land in a field is much more difficult to make than the decision to enter the landing pattern at the home airfield.  Landing out is inconvenient. Selecting a field is stressful.  There is a higher risk that the glider gets damaged. The prospect of having to deal with the land owner may be off-putting. The pilot may feel embarrassed that they did not make it back home.  In gliding contests, there is an even greater impetus to stay aloft.  In short, most pilots view the prospect of a land-out as a big negative. To avoid it they are tempted to keep searching for lift well beyond the time when they should have made a decision to land.

Daniel Sazhin, a PhD student of cognitive psychology, and one of the best contest pilots in the United States, explained in this excellent article that this is exactly the kind of situation in which pilots are likely to gamble and take the greatest risks.

The only reason that these accidents aren’t even more frequent is the fact that only the minority of pilots ventures beyond gliding distance of their home airport.

If you decide to fly cross-country, anticipate – in John Cochrane’s words, that “you will be tempted”.  I.e., the only way to avoid these accidents is to resist the temptation(s).   But how do we do that?  I’ll get back to this question at the end of this chapter on fateful decisions.

Out of Glide Range – Failure to stay within glide range of an airport or a landable field

Making a timely decision to land obviously pre-supposes that the pilot stayed within glide-range of an airport or a landable field to begin with.  Doing so is one of the most fundamental lessons all glider pilots are taught.

When flying above flat terrain and cultivated farmland, staying within glide range of a land-able field can be quite easy – land-able fields might be found every few miles in all directions.  But in different circumstances it can be very challenging: e.g. the mountainous areas and deserts of the Western United States are often completely unlandable, and airports may be 50 miles or more apart. High terrain may be in the way between your position and the nearest landable area even though your flight computer shows it to be within glide. Severe sink may degrade the attainable glide ratio of a 40:1 glider to 10:1 or even less.  Bad weather may move in and make your only landable area inaccessible, etc.  Considering these challenges, I found it surprising that not more accidents can be traced back to this root cause.

Relying on an engine

Glider operating handbooks typically state that a glider’s self-launch or sustainer engine must only be regarded as a convenience and not as something that the pilot can rely upon.  Pilots are advised to only attempt an in-flight engine start when they are within glide range of a suitable land-out field that can be easily reached even with the engine mast extended (which degrades the glide ratio to varying degrees based on the specific glider). The accident reports reveal that many pilots failed to heed that advice. The temptation to keep going because the glider has an engine is often too great.

These accidents are just special cases of the pilot’s failure to keep an airport or a land-able field within glide.

Misjudging the Final Glide

Misjudging the final glide and coming short is also a special case of failing to stay within glide range of an airport or a landable field and in some cases it can also be viewed as a special case of delaying the decision to land-out (provided that adequate fields were available along the final glide route). These cases tend to occur more frequently in a racing context, especially when there is no minimum altitude to finish the race. (If you also fly Condor multi-player races you will be very familiar with this).

Impacting Mountain – Failure to Maintain Sufficient Distance and/or Airspeed when Flying Close To Ridges or Mountains

Ridge running and mountain soaring is likely to be more dangerous than flatland flying although it is impossible to demonstrate this because there are no reliable data available that break down all soaring activities into flatland vs. ridge and mountain soaring.  However, a significant number of accidents happen because pilots fly in close proximity to mountainous terrain and without maintaining extra airspeed.  The most typical case involves a pilot circling below the top of the ridge or just slightly above it, then getting unexpectedly close to the ridge (e.g. due to unexpected sink / lack of expected lift), pulling up, stalling, and spinning in. The temptation to fly too close and too slowly is greatest in weak conditions when flying at a safe speed and at a safe distance from terrain can make it impossible to climb.  Here are some examples:

Probably all of these accidents could have been avoided had the pilot followed the basic rules of 1) flying figure 8s instead of circling below the top of the ridge and until a safe distance to the top of the ridge is reached; and 2) maintaining extra air speed when flying close to terrain.

Flying into Clouds – Failure to Stay Clear of Clouds

These accidents tend to occur in wave flying conditions when pilots fail to make a timely decision to descend and the cloud layer closes below.  Examples:

Other Decision Mistakes

The examples above account for the vast majority of all accidents that can be traced back to wrong in-flight decisions.   Other decision mistakes happen as well but are quite rare.  Here are some examples.  All of them are one off occurrences.

How Can We Avoid “Fateful Decisions” And Resist Temptation?

To answer this question we must first consider that practically all decision mistakes in soaring are preceded by the temptation to do something that we know is objectively unsafe. (But somehow we are doing it anyway.)

There are three important factors at play that determine how hard it is for us to resist the temptation and do the right thing:

(1) how strongly we are tempted;

(2) how great we think the risk is;

(3) whether we have to take an active decision to to something that’s dangerous (e.g. deliberately fly low over unlandable terrain) or if the danger is coming at us and we would have to take an active decision to get out of it (e.g. deciding to switch from thermalling to landing in a field as we get closer and closer to the ground)

We are most likely to make a fateful mistake if the temptation is high; our subjective assessment of the risk is low; and if the risk is coming at us such that we have to take a pro-active decision in order to avoid it.

Consider the following (fictional) scenario: a contest pilot is in first place on the last day of a national competition.  He knows that he doesn’t need to win the last contest day but he has to complete the task: landing out would not only cost him the overall win, he would most likely be off the podium altogether.  He would also miss his chance to compete in the World Championships, something he has aspired to his entire flying career.  In short: his temptation to avoid a land-out is about as high as it can be.

During the flight, he made a minor tactical mistake and on the final leg he finds himself lower than he would like to be.  No big deal, he has been in this situation many times before.  In his club he is well known for his flying skills. He has thousands of hours of experience and has never had an accident. In other words: his subjective assessment of his personal risk when thermalling close to the ground is likely to be fairly low.

As he keeps looking for lift he is surprised (and increasingly annoyed) that he gets lower and lower as he continues on course.  All he needs is one good climb and he can make it home.  Somewhere between two fields that don’t look great but are probably land-able he finally finds some weak lift.  He is down to 450 feet.  This has got to work! He has gained back 600 feet when the lift dies.  He’s got to move on and there’s a newly forming cloud just ahead.  This is perfect! There also seems to be some kind of field right there.  He pushes for the cloud.  He’s down to 400 feet again when he encounters lift. He turns. Dammit – wrong turn direction. That hardly ever happens to him.  Why now?There’s some big sink – he’s down to 250 feet.  The field is within reach but he notices a power line running through it as he tries to center the thermal. This lift is narrow!  But it will work!  While he tries to center the turn, flying close to stall speed to keep the turn radius as tight as possible, he also tries to get a look at the field and the power line to figure out how he would land should this become necessary. Suddenly there’s a gust from behind, the glider stalls and spins in. The last thing our pilot sees is the ground rushing at him.  And he hasn’t even made an active decision to do something that’s risky!

(1) The Strength of the Temptation

When we fly we can be tempted either by our desire to achieve positive flight outcomes (e.g. a personal best, more OLC points, peer recognition) or by our desire to avoid negative outcomes (e.g. having to land out and losing a contest, losing peer respect, missing an important meeting).

Recognizing that “you will be tempted”, as John Cochrane puts it,  is the first and perhaps most crucial step towards making better piloting decisions. As John writes, “it’s much wiser to realize that you will be tempted and start preparing now to overcome that temptation, rather than just pretend you’re such a superior pilot it won’t happen to you.”

In applying Prospect Theory to soaring, Daniel Sazhin explains that the two types of temptations – positive and negative – are quite different in terms of human psychology.  “People take the biggest risks when they are confronted with losses rather than gains.” I.e., the temptation to avoid a negative outcome is much stronger than the temptation to achieve a positive outcome. That means, for example, that a pilot who wants to achieve a new personal best is significantly less tempted to take great risks (there will be another opportunity!) than a pilot who thinks that he will get reprimanded or ridiculed for landing out.

What really matters, however, is not so much the situation per se but how we as individuals think about it. If you are thinking of a land-out as something that you must avoid at all costs, it’s not surprising that you are likely to wait far too long before you decide to switch from thermaling into landing mode. But you can choose to think about it differently!  E.g., one of my fellow pilots in Boulder thinks of land-outs as opportunities to have a great adventure.  This is a great way of re-framing the same situation!  Instead of being something to be dreaded, a landout becomes something positive.  If you can convince yourself to think about it this way, you are much less likely to take great risks when you find yourself low above some farmer’s field!

(2) Our Perception of the Risk Involved

If we think that a particular course of action could put us in grave danger, we are obviously much more likely to resist the temptation than if we think that nothing will happen.

The problem is that most of the time we don’t actually know how risky a particular situation or maneuver is.  Instead we rely on our own subjective risk perception.  And our perception is primarily shaped by our own experiences.

This means, if we make decisions that rarely but regularly lead to disastrous outcomes, and which Martin Hellman calls 99.9% safe maneuvers, they will appear to us as less and less dangerous because each time we made such decisions “nothing happened”.  A glider flies until is doesn’t and we pay no price for repeating risky behaviors over and over again until the one time when it is too late.  That’s when we become complacent.

Daniel Sazhin explores the psychology of this in more detail in his article “Experience Can Kill You” where he illustrates why we are prone to underestimate the risks of relatively rare events especially when our decisions are based on past experience.

To stay safe, we must remain aware that dangerous situations and maneuvers are, well, dangerous.

(3) Risks That Find Us vs. Risks We Decide To Take

One way to look at soaring decision accidents is to examine if the pilot deliberately flew into a dangerous situation, or whether the pilot failed to make a timely decision that would prevent him or her from getting into danger.

The accident data shows that only very few accidents were caused by pilots who actively decided to get into potentially dangerous situations. One such accident happened after the pilot had flown two low passes and then stalled and spun in during the turn to land; one involved a pilot who decided to fly into a line of squall line thunderstorms; and two or three cases involved pilots who actively decided to continue their flights over unlandable terrain without keeping a land-able field in glide.

In the vast majority of cases, the pilot did not actively invite the risk; the risk found the pilot, and the pilot failed to make a timely decision that would have prevented the accident.

This is bad news for those who might have thought that accidents primarily happen to thrill seekers.  That is simply not the case.  There are some thrill seekers in this sport who deliberately lead dangerous lives, but they represent a small minority.  Most accidents happen to pilots who are generally risk-averse.

Ironically, being risk averse might make us even more likely to get into an accident in situations where the necessary evasive action carries some inherent risk as well.  This is particularly the case when we are low and confronted with a familiar dilemma: should we decide to land in a field and risk hurting ourselves; or should we keep trying to thermal and risk hurting ourselves?  Our fear of botching the land-out just adds to the temptation to keep trying to stay aloft, and the temptation continues to grow the closer we get to the ground. We are inclined to delay and delay the decision to land until one way or another, it is too late and we crash.

To stay safe, there are two lessons here: first, we must remember that the risks will find us without us having to go looking for them. We must make the timely and pro-active decision to take preventative actions. Second, we must mentally prepare ourselves for the possibility of having to land in a field.  This goes without saying for anyone flying cross-country but it is even true for those who intend to stay close to their home airfield.  Remember: eventually the risk is going to find you!

Strategies to Avoid Fateful Decision Mistakes

John Cochrane, Daniel Sazhin, Martin Hellman, and many others have proposed various strategies and I have added my own.  I don’t think that there is a single silver bullet that works for everyone.  I suggest you pick the ones that will work for you or even develop your own.  The key is that you are not only able to think about this while you are on the ground, but that you remain firm in your resolve when you have to make the tough decisions while in the air.

(1) Remember that you will be tempted and try to direct your mind to keep the temptation as low as possible.

  • E.g., if you think of landing out as something to be dreaded, try to reframe your perspective and channel your mind to think about all the positive experiences that you can gain from it.
  • It you’re flying in a contest, try to focus on the immediate activity to be performed (and not the day or the overall result).  Be like a tennis champion who is able to stay focused on each point and not get wrapped up in thoughts about the set, match, or the championship. If the task before you requires a safe land-out, execute it like a champion would. If your mind wants to go back to the bigger picture, broaden your perspective further and think about your family and the many years of soaring ahead.  Remember that today’s flight outcome is insignificant provided you stay safe so you can fly again tomorrow.
  • I also like John Cochrane’s suggestion that you pick a hero story to help you reduce the temptation:  he recounts the tale of his hero, John Seaborn, who refused to fly into a line of thunderstorms during the 2001 US Nationals, thereby forgoing the contest win and a chance to participate in the World Championships. Be like John Seaborn!  (Btw: this story continued.  At the 2018 US Nationals, John was in first place until the last day of the competition when he ran out of lift and executed a safe landout.  Then, one year later, his patience paid off and he finally got his reward and won the 2019 US Nationals.  Again: be like John Seaborn!)

(2) Regularly remind yourself that certain maneuvers such as thermalling low (even next to an airport), flying close to ridges without an adequate safety margin, circling below ridge-tops, crossing unlandable terrain (with or without an engine), low-energy final glides, terrain transitions at low altitude, etc, are – and will always remain – dangerous. This is true even if – and especially if – you have a lot of experience.  Here are some things you can do to remind you that these risks are real:

  • Regularly invoke your memories of situations when you scared yourself.  How did you get into these situations and what are you doing differently now to prevent them from happening again?  E.g., I write flight reviews with lessons learned to help me avoid repeating my own mistakes.
  • Try to learn from the experience of others, especially those that have perished while giving in to temptation (e.g. by reading accident reports). Do not dismiss what happened to them by thinking that you are better then them.  Instead, imagine how they got into these situations and how this might happen to you as well.
  • Invite flight instructors and peers to critique your flying and tell you if they notice any risky behavior. Correct it before it becomes a habit and your brain tricks you into believing that repeating a dangerous maneuver makes it safer (it doesn’t).
  • Recency matters so repeat those exercises from time to time. You can also ask yourself on every flight “what can possibly go wrong” and fly as if everything that could go wrong would come to pass.

(3) Plan ahead because the risky situations will find you and you will have to act to prevent them.  Pre-plan the most difficult decisions so when the time comes, your mind is already made up and all you need to do is execute your plan.

  • Decide what safety margins you will maintain.  E.g. “I will keep a minimum distance from mountainous terrain of at least x wingspans and I will never fly slower than x kts;  I will never attempt to thermal below x feet; I will not circle along a ridge until I am at least x feet above; I will always keep a landable field in glide with an arrival altitude of x feet and assuming a glide ratio of x:1 (or a MC setting of at least x); for final glides I will use a safety altitude of x feet and and MC setting of at least x;  I will never extend the engine unless I am at least x feet above a landable field.”  Write these safety standards down, and promise your spouse and your friends that you won’t violate them. Review your flight logs to see if you kept your promises.
  • Some situations are less suitable for such simple decision rules because they require constant adjustments in flight. However, you can still make commitments that will help you stay ahead of the game and avoid the other frequent “fateful decision” mistakes.  e.g. a good general rule is the familiar plan A/B/C paradigm: “whenever I decide to attempt something that is not 100% certain (e.g. a terrain transition, flying above unlandable terrain, approaching a ridge, soaring above clouds, etc.)  I will always maintain a plan B and a plan C that I can fall back on if plan A does not work out.”
  • Pre-planning is especially important for land-outs where our temptation to delay the decision is the greatest. Promise yourself that “when I am x feet above the ground I will land, and I will not change my mind”
  • Note that the same set of rules will not work for everyone and everywhere.  Your minimums should reflect terrain and site-specific considerations and must be appropriate for your glider and your skill level.

2) Basic Piloting Mistakes

This second category accounts for ~30% of Soaring Accidents. All of the skills necessary to avoid these accidents are regularly taught as part of basic flight instruction. You might ask, why then do these mistakes still occur? I had the same question.

One of the most interesting overall findings is that even the most basic piloting error accidents are rarely caused by true beginners!

In fact, only 10% of all improper aircraft handling accidents involve pilots with less than 50 hours of flight experience, and another 10% were caused by pilots with more than 50 but less than 100 hours of flight experience. The median level of experience of pilots involved in these accidents is 416 flight hours.

That means flight instructors overall do a pretty good job teaching the mechanical skills of flying.  The main problems can be found elsewhere!

What leads even experienced pilots to make basic flying mistakes?

Once again, I’ve tried to look at these accidents based on the root causes that got the pilot into a situation where they were unable to react properly and steer the plane.

You might notice that many of these cases also involve some level of negligence or improper decision making.  However, I classified all of them as “improper handling of the aircraft” because good piloting skills alone should have been enough to avoid the accident – even if the accident was preceded by carelessness and/or a poor decision.

I am discussing them in the order of how frequently they occurred:

Reaction to Emergency – Failure to React To Standard Emergency Situations

Pilots frequently run into trouble when they encounter a standard emergency situation that they have not personally experienced or trained for in a long time.  Many of them occur during winch launches where an immediate reaction is required.

Interestingly, pilots seem better prepared to deal with the clear-cut case of a standard cable break, than they are prepared to react to irregularities in the winch’s operating speed.  If you think about it, this makes sense because we have trained for cable breaks and our reaction in this case is more instinctive.  When the winch just slows down our instincts don’t work quite as well because our first reaction may be to hang on and figure out what’s going on. By then the glider may have already stalled and our reaction comes too late.

Extensive flight experience is not a good preparation for these types of emergencies.  Hundreds of uneventful winch launches make us drop our guard because we are not expecting a problem.  In fact, the data suggests that a student pilot who has just gone through cable break exercises is more likely to react correctly in these situations than someone who hasn’t experienced a winch problem in a long time.

Overconfidence and Complacency

Experienced pilots, even when somewhat rusty, are more likely than beginners to overestimate their flying skills.  Here are some examples of accidents where the pilot’s plane handling skills perhaps weren’t quite as good as they thought. These accidents could have been avoided had the pilot been a little more humble and avoided maneuvers that required more proficiency.

Inexperience – Basic Piloting Errors By True Beginners

Of course there are several cases involving students who lacked the necessary training to react appropriately. Here are some examples:

Unfamiliar Aircraft – Insufficient Familiarization with New Aircraft

Several accidents happened after experienced pilots transitioned to an unfamiliar aircraft.  Their experience might have contributed to making them less diligent in acquainting themselves with their new equipment.  Several of the cases happened after a transition to a more complex motor glider.

Inattention 

Experienced pilots are likely more relaxed than beginners.  While this means that they are less likely to suffer from tunnel vision, the downside is that it can also make them less attentive.  Four of these accidents happened when the glider pilot did not pat attention and accidentally climbed too high on tow.

How Can We Avoid Basic Piloting Error Accidents?

Basic piloting errors should be relatively easy to prevent.  However, since most of them happen to experienced pilots, who likely consider themselves to be least susceptible, the biggest obstacle to reducing their numbers is likely complacency.

Before we are willing to do something to address this risk we must first believe that it is us who are vulnerable!  Once that is accomplished, the remedy itself is relatively easy.

(1) Regularly practice standard situation emergencies such as rope breaks spin entries, and irregular occurrences, especially on tow

E.g., if you have not had a winch failure or an aero tow failure in some time it’s a good idea to fly with an instructor and have them pull the release on you when you least expect it.  Ask to also practice unexpected things such as a power reduction of the tow plane or an irregular winch speed.  These emergencies happen close to the ground and require immediate recognition and an almost reflexive reaction.  If we are stunned by what’s happening and are trying to figure out what is going on, the glider might have already stalled and it is too late.  Recognizing spin entries is easy to practice on our own at altitude (as long as you really know what to do if the glider does spin in and you first make sure that there’s no one else below you. Practice with an instructor first if you’re not 100% certain.) The important thing is that we instantly recognize what’s happening and reflexively do the right thing to stop it.

(2) Really get to know your equipment.

When you transition to a new glider be as diligent as you were when you transitioned into your first single seater. Do not underestimate the complexity of your new glider, especially if it has an engine or other unfamiliar controls and instruments.

(3) Stay current.

If you have taken a break from soaring for a few months, take a check ride with an instructor before you get back into your own ship. Read the operating handbook again and make sure you know exactly how everything works before you move the glider onto the runway.

(4) Worry – at least a bit.

If you tend to feel very relaxed when you get into the cockpit ask yourself what could go wrong: think of traffic, wind, weather, equipment failure, etc.  Imagine the worst and how you would handle it.  This will make you pay attention.

(5) Stay humble, seek critique, and critique yourself.

Reflect back after every flight: what did you do well? what could you have done better? what was the most dangerous situation? what could have happened in the worst case? what could you have done to avoid it? When you fly with an instructor, ask them to be ruthless in critiquing your flying.  If we develop bad habits (and we all do), chances are that we won’t notice until someone tells us.

3) Pre-Flight Negligence

12% of all soaring accidents are the direct consequence of things that the pilot did or did not do before they even took off.  In other words: once the launch process was underway, even the best piloting skills might not have been sufficient to prevent an accident.  The chain of events that led to the bad outcome was already in motion.

Once again, these accidents happen primarily to experienced pilots.  In fact, 85% were caused by pilots with at least 100 hours of experience and the median flight experience of the pilots involved was 700 hours.

Almost all of these accidents fall into a few groups, listed in order of frequency of occurrence:

Failure to properly assemble the aircraft and/or conduct a Pre-Flight and Positive Control Check (PCC)

The most frequent of these types of crashes involve disconnected control surfaces (mainly elevators or ailerons) and most could have been detected through a proper PCC. Examples:

Failure to consider a specific pre-take off emergency plan before launch

We were all taught to have a pre take-off emergency plan in place before each launch that includes what we will do in case of an emergency.  Unfortunately, as we experience one uneventful takeoff after another, we tend to become complacent and ignore or forget that lesson. Sometimes we maintain a vague plan but it is not specific enough and does not cover all eventualities. The problem is that if a take-off emergency does occur there is usually no time to think.  We find ourselves at a low altitude and in a situation where flying a normal landing pattern is impossible.  We may even be too low for a 180 degree turn and a downwind landing.  The land out options at the airport we are flying from might be poor and we may not have reviewed them in some time (or maybe not even at all).  We’re also over-stressed which means that neither our decision making skills nor our flying skills are as good as they would otherwise be.  And every second we lose altitude and our options get worse.

Many of these accidents could have been avoided had we already pre-decided what to do. But without a clear and specific plan in place we tend to waver and wander about until it is too late. Examples:

Failure to review the pre-takeoff checklist

These accidents typically involve either the canopy or the air brakes opening during takeoff.  Examples:

  • This airline transport pilot with 24,000 hours of flight experience took off without closing the canopy and airbrakes.
  • In this case the canopy opened on the downwind leg. Due to increased drag the pilot landed short of the runway.
  • Canopy opened on aerotow at 300 ft.  Instead of staying on and flying the plane, the flight instructor released and slipped into ground.

Failure to properly prepare a Cross-Country Flight

A few accidents (all in the American West) involved flights where a landing place shown on a map did not exist or could not be found by the pilot.

How Can We Prevent Pre-Flight Negligence Accidents?

Similar to accidents caused by poor basic piloting skills, these accidents are easily avoided if we realize that we are susceptible and are willing to be consistently diligent in our flight preparations.

(1) Always use and follow checklists.

The most important ones are: assembly checklist; pre-flight check including PCC; pre-take off checklist; pre-landing checklist.  Start over if you get distracted. Never ever skip the PCC!

(2) Have an emergency plan for each takeoff.

Be very specific and consider all eventualities. E.g., what do I do during ground roll if: the wing touches the ground; the towplane won’t climb, the winch slows down. Once airborne, what do I do if the rope breaks or if the tow plane/winch fails at different altitudes. For me, the best tactic is to actually call out loud what I would do “now” if the rope were to break: e.g. land straight ahead; small field 90 degrees left; larger field 30 degrees left; 180 degree turn to the left.  This way I know exactly what to do and can focus entirely on executing the plan that is already in place.

(3) Never fly into the unknown.

Even if the sky ahead looks great! You must positively know before the flight where you can land. Also: always keep a landable place in glide.

4) Accidents Caused By Insufficient Situational Awareness

About 6% of accidents are caused at least in part by a pilot’s failure to maintain situational awareness either through audiovisual observations and/or (radio) communications.  Most, but not all, of these accidents are mid air collisions that could have been avoided.

Failure to Maintain Visual Awareness

Failure to Communicate

Many of the following accidents could have been avoided if the pilots involved had been communicating more pre-actively and/or listened more carefully to the communications of others. Here are some examples:

How Can We Prevent Insufficient Awareness Accidents?

The simple answer is to always pay attention, maintain a good look-out, and communicate pro-actively.  That is true but probably insufficient advice.   We can’t tell from the accident reports why the pilots did not do those things.  It’s probably safe to say that we should

(1) Only fly when we are healthy and well rested so that we are able and willing to pay attention

(2) Ensure that our eyesight and hearing are up to the task. This is particularly important in countries (such as the United States) where pilots do not need a medical to fly gliders.

(3) Train ourselves to make regular position announcements on the radio, especially when we approach or fly in areas where we expect other air traffic. We must consider that glider pilots tend to seek out the same energy lines and are therefore frequently cruising towards each other at high speeds and at similar altitudes when it is close to impossible to see one another.

(4) Equip our gliders with compatible collision warning technology, especially when we fly in areas with other glider traffic.  This could have prevented several accidents and probably has already prevented numerous others.

(5) Speak up when we notice something that could get others into trouble even if we’re not directly affected.  This includes reminding others to pay attention or to communicate when we notice an opportunity for improvement.

(6) Pay close attention not just in the air but also on the ground.

5) Unavoidable Accidents

Like with any activity that involves dangers we must face the fact that some accidents really cannot be avoided by the pilot (unless of course they avoid to fly at all).

Fortunately, they represent the small minority of the cases.  My analysis shows that approx. 8-15% of all accidents could not have been averted by even the most proficient and diligent pilot.

Most of those fall into one of the following four categories (in order of frequency of occurrence)

Technical Failures

These are rare but they do happen from time to time.  I found this to be the cause in 9 out of 247 accidents (3.6%). This does not include issues that could have been detected by a thorough pre-flight check or failures that were caused by operating the plane outside its limits.  I’m also not counting cases here where the engine of a motor glider failed to start. Here are some examples:

  • In this relatively recent case, the rudder of an Arcus got uncontrollable at 17,000 feet causing the glider to enter an irrecoverable spiral dive.
  • In this case, a wing of a Duo Discus broke in mid flight at a perfectly normal operating speed due to a manufacturing defect.
  • And in this case, the connection between the controls and the elevator of a DG100 disconnected inside the fuselage after takeoff, making the plane uncontrollable.

Medical Conditions

Medical conditions that result in the pilot passing out during the flight could only have been prevented by the pilot not flying at all.

  • There were at least four cases where the pilot suffered an in-flight heart attack. Here’s an example.

Certain Midair Collisions

Some midair collisions are avoidable through pro-active radio communications and better situational awareness.  I have covered those under point 4) above.  However, there are midair collisions that even the most diligent glider pilots would  probably not have been able to prevent. These include cases where the other aircraft involved was not equipped with collision detection technology.

  • In this extreme case a glider was hit from behind in Class E airspace by a military aircraft traveling at 410 kts.
  • Multiple cases exist – such as this one – where two gliders collided head-on and where it was also practically impossible for one to see or take note of the other before it was too late.

Human Mistakes of Third Parties

In some cases an accident is caused by someone else and there is really nothing the glider pilot could do to avoid it.

  • One such case involves a winch launch, where a crew member incorrectly attached the cable in such a way that it could not be released by the glider.  Unfortunately the winch cable cutter was defective as well and the pilot had to try to land while remaining attached to the winch.

Methodology

Accident reports often just present what is known about the facts of an accident and sometimes even that is very little.  In the case of fatal accidents there may be no witnesses. And in other cases, the accident pilot may have had an incentive to rationalize their own mistake(s) and attribute the accident to bad luck.

To understand how we can prevent accidents we have to get to the underlying reasons.  In particular, I wanted to identify if the pilot had made a mistake or lacked basic skills that made it impossible for him or her to avoid the accident. This requires an act of interpretation, which is of course at least somewhat subjective.  Obviously, no one can really know what went on in the pilot’s mind and in many cases, there are several contributing factors and sometimes a series of mistakes that led to the accident. However, after reading and re-reading so many accidents, clear patterns emerge, and I believe a reasonably accurate interpretation is possible. Someone else might interpret any one individual accident differently, but they would likely arrive at the same themes.

After interpreting each accident, I analyzed and categorized the results to develop recommendations and strategies of what each of us can do to minimize the likelihood of becoming part of the accident statistic.

Conclusions

As I pointed out at the beginning, once every 50,000 flight hours a soaring pilot dies.  For every fatal accident there is also at least one accident with injuries.  That means serious accidents where people are harmed happen about once every 25,000 flight hours.

The fatality rate of our sport makes it 2x as dangerous as riding motorcycles and 40x as dangerous as driving cars.

However, a careful analysis of accident reports shows that soaring does not have to be so dangerous.  Approx. 90% of accidents are avoidable.  If we were successful in doing that, we would reduce the risk of the sport by an order of magnitude such that it would only be 4x as dangerous as driving.

Unfortunately, such a dramatic reduction of accidents is unlikely to happen.  However, each of us has an opportunity to drastically reduce the risks for him- or herself.

If you have read this entire post you have already realized that there are no silver bullets.  You also know that experience alone is certainly not sufficient – in fact, it probably works against you.   The median experience of the pilots involved in all these accidents is 522 hours.  34% of the accident pilots had flown more than 1000 hours. The following chart shows the distribution:

Here is a summary of the things you can do to help reduce your risk.  I have organized them based on the types of mistakes that caused the most  accidents, and the recommendations are listed based on my assessment of which ones are likely to have the biggest impact.

40% of accidents are caused by “fateful decisions” and “eroded margins”.  Most of them are made by generally conservative pilots, not by daredevil thrill-seekers.  How you can avoid them:

(1) Remember that you will be tempted to do something that’s dangerous and train your mind to keep the temptation as small as possible, e.g. by reframing potentially negative outcomes that you want to avoid at all cost (such as landing out) into positive opportunities (e.g. to have an adventure).

(2) Regularly remind yourself that certain maneuvers are always dangerous and that they do not get safer with experience. You may even be performing some of them regularly and no longer think of them as dangerous because nothing has ever happened. This is a dangerous trap that you have to get yourself out of!

(3) Pre-plan the difficult decisions such as when to stop thermaling and start landing; what you will do and not do when you’re in weak lift along a ridge, when to interrupt a final glide, etc. Your mind should already be made up when you get into these situations so you can focus on executing your plan.

 

30% of accidents are caused by basic piloting errors.  Contrary to popular belief, even basic mistakes are most often made by experienced pilots. How you can avoid them:

(1) Regularly practice standard situation emergencies such as rope breaks and spin entries but also power reductions on tow and irregular winch speeds.  We tend to be too slow in responding to situations that require a reflexive reaction if we have not experienced them in a while.

(2) Really get to know your equipment. Transitions to new and more complex gliders (e.g. motor gliders) often causes serious problems.

(3) After a break from soaring take a check ride with an instructor before you get back into your own ship.

(4) Worry – at least a bit. If you’re too relaxed there’s a real risk that you become inattentive. E.g., several people have dies because the glider pilot did not pay attention on tow.

(5) Stay humble, seek critique, and critique yourself.

 

12% of all soaring accidents are caused by Pre-Flight Negligence. The median pilot experience was 700 hours.  How you can avoid them:

(1) Always use and follow checklists. Never ever skip the PCC or the Pre-Takeoff Checklist!

(2) Have a very specific emergency plan for each takeoff that covers all the things that could go wrong. “I can turn around at 200 feet” is very often not enough!

(3) Plan your flight, know where you can land, never fly into the unknown.

 

6% of accidents are caused by insufficient Situational Awareness.  Most of these accidents are mid air collisions. How you can avoid them:

(1) Only fly when well rested so you can pay attention to the sky and the radio.

(2) Ensure that our eyesight and hearing are up to the task.

(3) Make regular pro-active position announcements when flying in areas with other air traffic. Expect other gliders to fly along the same energy lines.

(4) Equip your glider with Flarm and other traffic awareness technology.

(5) Speak up when you notice something that could get others into trouble.

(6) Pay close attention on the ground as well.

Soaring does not have to be so dangerous.  If you train your brain to resist the temptations; if you practice and are self-critical; and if you are diligent before and during your flights, you can dramatically improve your odds.

The Risk of Dying Doing What We Love

Many of us participate in activities and sports that are at least somewhat dangerous.  However, most of us also do not have a full appreciation of how risky these activities really are, especially compared to other things that we could be doing instead.

We just love our favorite pastime and facing up to its risks can be stressful because we also want to be safe while having fun. Psychologists call this type of stress “cognitive dissonance”, and we intuitively look for ways to remove the discomfort of our conflicting emotions, often by downplaying the risks to ourselves and to others. 

E.g., when I became a glider pilot some 35 years ago, my instructors used to proclaim that “the most dangerous aspect of the sport is the drive to the airport”.  This was a widely held belief at the time even though it could not have been further from the truth. And while the slogan was famously debunked by the prominent German pilot Bruno Gantenbrink in his speech “Safety comes first“, our instinct to downplay the risks to ourselves (and to others) has of course remained.

Given our natural inclination to deceive ourselves, it is not surprising that good data about the factual risks of many activities can be difficult to come by.  And even if data are reported, they are often accompanied by statements that soften, blur, or contradict the facts, frequently through the use of misleading comparisons.

Here is just one such example from scuba diving in which the author asserts that scuba diving is safer than driving a car. She does this by comparing the statistic that 1 in 5,555 people were killed in a car accident in 2008 with the statistic that only 1 out of 212,000 dives ended deadly.  Did you catch the fundamental flaw?  The comparison would be ok only if each driver would drive just once a year.  In reality, each driver makes on average 2 trips per day, i.e. 730 car trips per year, which means that the 5,555 drivers drove in aggregate about 4 million times (5555*730).  I.e., 1 in 4,000,000 drives ended deadly vs 1 in 212,000 dives. By this – still not perfect, but definitely more comparable – measure diving isn’t safer than driving but instead about 19x more dangerous! No matter the sport or activity, you’ll quickly find similar examples of apples to oranges comparisons and a conscious or subconscious attempt to downplay the risks.

When I looked for data on risky sports and activities, I also found the other extreme: a Google search will return plenty of articles listing “the most dangerous sports in the world,” almost all of which try to make most sports sound insanely dangerous. However, more often than not these articles are just click-bait to generate ad revenue and lack any serious effort to get to the facts.  Even the most well-intentioned ones that actually quote their sources tend to suffer from one of two major problems: either they lack a common denominator and therefore compare stats that are just not comparable; or they use a denominator that isn’t all that meaningful such as the general population while ignoring the differences in participation rates among different sports.

I wanted to know the honest truth and so I set out to do the research myself.  The most important decision that I had to make at the outset was to select the most appropriate basis of comparison and hence, what denominator to use.  I concluded that the most meaningful datapoint to me is the risk of dying (and the risk of getting injured) per hour of participating in a particular activity.  There are two reasons I picked this risk per participation hour as the most sensible base of comparison: First, it allows me to compare different choices for my spare time, e.g., the risk of spending an afternoon riding a mountain bike vs the risk of spending the same afternoon flying a sailplane. Second, it gives me a sense of how serious the risk really is and therefore how carefully I should prepare to mitigate it.

The graphic that we’ll get to below shows what I came up with.  To facilitate the readability of the comparison, I benchmarked all activities against traveling on commercial airlines, which happens to be one of the safest things you can do when you leave your home:  only once in 10 million passenger hours (i.e., once in 1,141 years) will a passenger die when traveling on a commercial airline.  In other words, the chance of a person dying within their next 1,000 participation hours is only 0.01%.

Other activities that I participate in regularly such as driving, cycling, skiing (on and off piste), or marathon running aren’t nearly as safe as traveling on an airliner but they are still quite safe.

Unfortunately, my favorite sport, flying sailplanes, aka soaring, is one of the more dangerous activities.  There are no reliable participation data available for the US but I found quite solid information for Germany and France where soaring is much more practiced than in the US.  In both countries the sport has a fatality rate of 1 in 50,000 participation hours; i.e., the risk of dying within the next 1,000 hours of participation is 2%, about twice as high as the risk involved in riding motorcycles.  It also means that an active pilot, who flies about 100 hours per season, has a 1 in 50 chance of dying in the sport within the next decade, and it makes soaring about 200 times more dangerous as traveling on a commercial jet. Other air sports tend to have similar risks:  flying powered airplanes is just a little bit safer whereas hang-gliding and paragliding are somewhat more dangerous.

Some of the data surprised me.  E.g., I found driving, skiing, and cycling to be safer that I expected, whereas climbing the Tetons and especially Mt Everest is actually much more dangerous than I anticipated.  Not surprising to me was the insanely high risk involved in Base Jumping, which is shown to be 480,000 times more dangerous than commercial aviation, with an expected death per 21 hours of participation, and practically no chance at all to survive the next 1,000 hours of flying through the air.  If you’re a Base Jumper you are likely to complain that my methodology of counting only the short duration of the jump (and, e.g., not the time you spend climbing up the mountain) puts your sport into an unfair light.  To that I say feel free to count differently if you want to convince yourself that jumping is safer than it really is.  As I pointed out above, you certainly won’t be alone in your desire to deceive yourself.

Unfortunately, all the information in the chart below only refers to the risk of death and does not account for the risk of injuries.  The reason is simply the fact that data about injuries are extremely unreliable since the great majority of sport injuries are never reported and/or accounted as such.  (The omission of injury information also means that activities that tend to have a relatively high injury to death ratio (e.g. skiing, equestrian eventing, marathon running, riding motorcycles, hang gliding, paragliding, downhill mountain biking) might look relatively safer than they really are, and activities that have a relatively low injury to death ratio (e.g. general aviation, soaring, skydiving) might appear relatively more dangerous than they really are.)

Without further ado, here is the chart:

Another way to look at the same data is to compare them to the normal risk of dying (of any cause) at different life stages.  Life insurance companies keep track of these risks as they seek to adjust their premiums based on the age of the insured.  It should be intuitive that an 18 year old person has a much lower risk of dying within their next 1,000 life-hours than a 90 year old.

Below is a chart that shows how this normal risk of death increases as you get older. E.g, the odds that an average 18-year-old American male will die within their next 1,000 life-hours is about 0.01%.  This happens to be exactly the same odds as traveling on a commercial airliner, once again illustrating how save commercial air travel has become. A 90-year-old male, by comparison, has a 1.9% chance of dying within their next 1,000 life hours.  You can see how the slope of the curve remains fairly flat until the age of 50, and how it really steepens around 75. If someone manages to survive until the age of 119, their odds of dying within the next 1,000 life-hours will have risen to 10.2%.

(The source of this information is the US Social Security Administration.  Note that they report the risk of dying within the next year, which I converted to the risk within the next 1,000 life hours, i.e. 41.7 days.  Note also that the risk level tends to be slightly lower for females since their life expectancy is higher, but for our purposes the gender differences are negligible.)

So how do the risks of the various activities compare relative to the normal day-to-day risk of dying at different ages?

To illustrate this, I placed the activity icons onto the same chart (see below).  Once again, you see that commercial air travel is the safest of these activities. Driving, skiing, cycling, back-country skiing, and marathon running are all along the relatively flat part of the curve.  The risk of dying per hour when swimming in open waters or while participating in equestrian eventing is about 0.3%, equivalent to the risk that an average 71 year-old person faces in their day-to-day life.

As you move right and up along the curve, the risk level increases much more noticeably. Scuba diving is about as dangerous as being 80 years old, and motorcycling corresponds to the normal risk of being 85.  Several air sports come next: general aviation, flying sailplanes, hang gliding, and paragliding.  Each of these is about as risky as the normal lives of people aged 88 to 95.  Downhill mountain biking also falls into this category.

As you continue further up the slope you can see two outliers: skydiving is about as dangerous as the normal life of a 107 year-old and climbing the Tetons is about as dangerous as being 119 yeas of age.

Three activities from the initial graphic above are still missing: Formula 1 racing, Climbing Mt. Everest, and Base Jumping.  The dangers of these three sports are so great they are literally off the chart because the Social Security Administration does not compute death risk statistics for anyone older than 119.  (You probably don’t know anyone of that age either.)  Since Formula 1 racing is about 2x as dangerous as Climbing the Tetons and Climbing Everest is another 2x as dangerous, you can roughly imagine how high up the risk curve you have to go.  With Base Jumping even that becomes impossible: it is more than 100x more dangerous than climbing Mt. Everest!

Why put all this information together?  I believe we should all be fully aware of the risks that we take, and that we should let our awareness of these risks be an incentive to take the appropriate preparations and precautions to reduce these risks as much as possible.  Most of the fatal accidents in sports are at least in part the result of human error and could have been avoided. If we close our eyes to the risks (as we are naturally inclined to do in order to remove this pesky thing called cognitive dissonance), we are also unlikely to do what it takes to keep the risks contained.

Commercial aviation is a great example that risk mitigation really works. After the invention of powered flight in 1903, flying was certainly one of the most dangerous things humans could possibly do. Gradually and over time, this risk has been reduced to such an extent that commercial air travel is now one of the safest things we participate in.

The concrete risks and the strategies for risk mitigation are obviously quite specific to each of the different activities and discussing them is beyond the scope of this article.  But risk mitigation strategies do exist for all activities and deploying them deliberately and consistently can be very effective (for some activities probably more so than for others).  If you do something that is objectively dangerous (and now you know that it is), learning about these strategies and taking them seriously can truly help you stay alive.

Have fun and be safe!

CX Landing in 20-30 kts Cross-Wind

Before the arrival of the cold front: fantastic fall-thermal soaring conditions along the Front Range.

This past Wednesday was a great fall soaring day.  Initially I struggled off tow for a while, but once I got up above the inversion I had a great and easy flight in strong convergence and thermal lift along the Front Range, covering 350km in about 3 hours.  Cloud bases were around 20,000 feet and the best thermals produced climb rates of up to 10 kts average.  Not bad for October!

This was before the cold front arrived.  I had not expected it until late in the evening but luckily I could see it coming just as I was planning to return to Boulder: the wind had been blowing from the southwest all day when I noticed a wall of dust rapidly moving in the opposite direction.  When I first spotted it, I was flying over the foothills west of the field, and the front was just north of Longmont heading south.  I accelerated my descent and landed safely in completely calm conditions.  10 minutes later the wind kicked up sharply and the temperature began to plummet.

CX wasn’t so lucky.  He arrived back in Boulder about 30 minutes after the front moved in.  Strong gusty winds were blowing from the north.  AWOS reported 20 kts on the ground, gusting to 31.  Boulder only has an east-west runway so CX was faced with a cross-wind landing in very challenging conditions.

Here’s what it looked like from the ground:

This was perfectly executed.  Well done!  (The video quality is not great but it’s definitely worth watching.) Note how he pulled right to his normal parking position 🙂

I also downloaded CX’s flight trace and took a closer look at the landing pattern.

CX began the “downwind” leg at 8,500 feet. That is 3,200 AGL (!) (The typical altitude at this point is less than 1,000 AGL.)  3,000 AGL might seem excessively high but extreme sink in the pattern is always a possibility in these conditions and the extra height allows the pilot to fly a bigger pattern, align with the runway sooner, avoid turning close to the ground, and it provides more energy reserves to maintain a greater speed in order to deal with extreme turbulence and other potential hazards.   CX chose to fly an approach to G26.  This is the best option when the wind is from the north because it allows the pilot to avoid landing next to buildings and vegetation that are located along the western half of the runway and could cause additional turbulence.  (Before entering the pattern, the pilot also pulled the straps as tightly as possible.)
CX used the high altitude to fly a much wider pattern than usual and to maintain a much higher airspeed. The trace shows CX turning base to final about 2 miles east of the runway at an altitude of 6,100 feet (800 AGL).  The ground speed is 120 kts (!), presumable reflecting an airspeed of about 80-90 kts and a tailwind of 30-40 kts.  The turn looks much shallower than it actually was: the wind drift is very significant and a relatively steep bank angle was required during the final 90 degree turn.
3,000 feet before the threshold, CX is aligned with runway at an altitude of 300 feet AGL and a groundspeed of 85 kts. The airspeed must be somewhat higher to compensate for the cross-wind.  (This is about where the video begins.)
CX reaches the runway threshold at 50-100 feet AGL. The ground speed is 70kts, the airspeed is still somewhat higher (presumably around 75-80 kts). The glider is still perfectly aligned with the runway. If you re-watch the video, you’ll also notice how CX is careful to always keep the right wing (on the windward side) slightly lower than the left wing. (This helps the pilot maintain direction and also prevents the wind from rolling the glider to the left.)  The video also shows that the glider appears to be much more stable and easier to control as soon as it enters ground effect.
CX flares perfectly and touches down just before the first buildings at a ground speed of 42 kts. The touch down location minimizes the risk of turbulence in the lee of buildings and vegetation along Independence Road. CX chose to land on the dirt runway to have more room to maneuver if necessary. Landing in the dirt may also reduce potential sideway forces at the point of touch-down.

PS: The pilot is one of the most experienced cross-country pilots in the United States.  In the video, the landing looked almost like a non-event.  This impression is amplified by the fact that he was able to roll right up to his normal parking spot, stopping precisely where he intended to (and where he always does).  The flight trace, however, tells a very different story and illustrates very well how unusual and challenging the conditions were. Most importantly, it shows the mitigating actions that CX took to minimize the risks associated with these conditions (much higher pattern entry, much wider pattern, much higher airspeed, always keeping the upwind wing slightly lower, choice of runway and touchdown point).