STOL And Soaring
Yesterday, Julie and I flew the Duck around the pattern a couple of times, learning this new Short Take Off and Landing (STOL) kit. I seem to have the first 98% of it OK, but the flare and touch down are still to be mastered.
Then, we flew ESE'ly about 20 miles to a nice, sod strip near Gregory, Michigan. Richmond Field 69G has a runway that is 2,471' of hard pscked, sandy soil with healthy grass. Straight North/South on 180/360 degrees mag heading. A 9-12 knot S'ly wind meant we were coming in from the north heading upwind to the south, over trees and wires, to drop down to the grass. And, on take off, we overflew Joslin Lake where an old high school buddy and I chased frogs on a summer's day, and fished through the ice a few months later.
The "Sandhill Soaring Club" reigns here. John Harte is the spark plug, and electric enthusiasm sprays out of him all over the place. Joe, the ancient Air Boss keeps track of all aircraft coming and going - especially gliders - like a local control tower. His efforts contribute to a safe operation, and that's extremely important. Another pilot, whose name now escapes me, flies the Ag Cat (a crop duster just like Dusty in the recent movie about Planes) that tows gliders aloft. He drags a 200' polypropelene tow rope along behind.
69G is in the Pinckney Recreational Area. It's a recreational area because most of the land can't be used for much else. Several glaciers worked over the land mass that became the Great Lakes States. They were bull dozers with blades between 1 and 2 miles high. They scraped up cubic acres of soil and rocks like a kid fills a little beach bucket with handsful of sand. Some of this was just dumped where it got scraped to - drumlins and morain are examples of that . Other materials rode along inside the glacier, and were redeposited hundreds of miles later as the glacier melted. As a glacier face retreated back northerly, streams of melted ice water poured over, carrying sand, rock, and soils along with them. Eskers - long, serpentine hills of sand and rock - are evidence of this.
Michigan is still rebounding from the compression of those glaciers. Every 20-25 yesrs, topogrsphy is an jnch higher than it was before! And, co-mingled in and around all this slowly rising terrain of drumlins and eskers, are swamps and soggy grounds. Now, it's fashionable for city slickers, who like to call themselves "environmentalists", to call these swamps wetlands. Well, that sounds neat while you're sipping white wine in a lounge, but when you're arse deep in one of them, a few adjective-type expletives always precede the word SWAMP!
Mingled lakes, swamps, streams, and land provide large areas of varying abilities to soak up the sun's heat, and then give it back again. This is important because soil heats and cools faster than does water. And of course, water both warms and cools more slowly, and for an extended period of time. What that means is that throughout most seasons, and throughout most days and nights, SOMETHING is storing or releasing energy almost all of the time. When energy is released, thermals are formed. Rising columns of air lift hawks, buzzards, and gliders. John took me up in a glider, and we played on those thermals.
Cleared for take off, the tow plane went to full throttle. A guy was holding our wing tip off the ground until we started to move. Then we held wings level with the stick, controlling our ailerons. Stick back brought up the nose so the belly was no longer skidding alog the ground, and we were rolling on the single wheel under the fuselage. Then - liftoff, and we trailed a bit to the left of our tow bird to eleviate the tow pilot having to ride right rudder so much.
At about 3,000' altitude, about 1,880' above ground level (AGL) we released the tow cable, and were on our own. John flew, I followed on the controls, and later flew it some too, but not well. We chased invisible thermals. Birds can provide clues as to where they were. But, the birds we saw had risen to their limit on that particulsr thermsl, and were flapping their wings to go somewhete else. Wing flapping isn't a good sign for glider pilots. sigh
When we did find some lift, John would go into such a steep bank and tight turn that the tip of the inside wing tracked backwards on the ground. This gave me some pucker factor, because in my plane, at thst airspeed (30-40 knots), a turn thst tight would be followed by a spin-cradh-and burn scenario. Instructors, and my own common sense, put the fesr of God into me about such naughty behavior. John and I were up for about a half hour. My seating position wasn't all that comfortable, so it was OK with me when we headed homeward.
Now, it's up,to us about what to do. Julie definitely wants to go up, and I'm considering. I had thought that a glider endorsement would be what I wanted. Now, I'm not as sure. Now, I think I want some training and experience in gliders, but am not so sure about going as far as to become a real glider pilot. We'll see.
Yesterday, Julie and I flew the Duck around the pattern a couple of times, learning this new Short Take Off and Landing (STOL) kit. I seem to have the first 98% of it OK, but the flare and touch down are still to be mastered.
Then, we flew ESE'ly about 20 miles to a nice, sod strip near Gregory, Michigan. Richmond Field 69G has a runway that is 2,471' of hard pscked, sandy soil with healthy grass. Straight North/South on 180/360 degrees mag heading. A 9-12 knot S'ly wind meant we were coming in from the north heading upwind to the south, over trees and wires, to drop down to the grass. And, on take off, we overflew Joslin Lake where an old high school buddy and I chased frogs on a summer's day, and fished through the ice a few months later.
The "Sandhill Soaring Club" reigns here. John Harte is the spark plug, and electric enthusiasm sprays out of him all over the place. Joe, the ancient Air Boss keeps track of all aircraft coming and going - especially gliders - like a local control tower. His efforts contribute to a safe operation, and that's extremely important. Another pilot, whose name now escapes me, flies the Ag Cat (a crop duster just like Dusty in the recent movie about Planes) that tows gliders aloft. He drags a 200' polypropelene tow rope along behind.
69G is in the Pinckney Recreational Area. It's a recreational area because most of the land can't be used for much else. Several glaciers worked over the land mass that became the Great Lakes States. They were bull dozers with blades between 1 and 2 miles high. They scraped up cubic acres of soil and rocks like a kid fills a little beach bucket with handsful of sand. Some of this was just dumped where it got scraped to - drumlins and morain are examples of that . Other materials rode along inside the glacier, and were redeposited hundreds of miles later as the glacier melted. As a glacier face retreated back northerly, streams of melted ice water poured over, carrying sand, rock, and soils along with them. Eskers - long, serpentine hills of sand and rock - are evidence of this.
Michigan is still rebounding from the compression of those glaciers. Every 20-25 yesrs, topogrsphy is an jnch higher than it was before! And, co-mingled in and around all this slowly rising terrain of drumlins and eskers, are swamps and soggy grounds. Now, it's fashionable for city slickers, who like to call themselves "environmentalists", to call these swamps wetlands. Well, that sounds neat while you're sipping white wine in a lounge, but when you're arse deep in one of them, a few adjective-type expletives always precede the word SWAMP!
Mingled lakes, swamps, streams, and land provide large areas of varying abilities to soak up the sun's heat, and then give it back again. This is important because soil heats and cools faster than does water. And of course, water both warms and cools more slowly, and for an extended period of time. What that means is that throughout most seasons, and throughout most days and nights, SOMETHING is storing or releasing energy almost all of the time. When energy is released, thermals are formed. Rising columns of air lift hawks, buzzards, and gliders. John took me up in a glider, and we played on those thermals.
Cleared for take off, the tow plane went to full throttle. A guy was holding our wing tip off the ground until we started to move. Then we held wings level with the stick, controlling our ailerons. Stick back brought up the nose so the belly was no longer skidding alog the ground, and we were rolling on the single wheel under the fuselage. Then - liftoff, and we trailed a bit to the left of our tow bird to eleviate the tow pilot having to ride right rudder so much.
At about 3,000' altitude, about 1,880' above ground level (AGL) we released the tow cable, and were on our own. John flew, I followed on the controls, and later flew it some too, but not well. We chased invisible thermals. Birds can provide clues as to where they were. But, the birds we saw had risen to their limit on that particulsr thermsl, and were flapping their wings to go somewhete else. Wing flapping isn't a good sign for glider pilots. sigh
When we did find some lift, John would go into such a steep bank and tight turn that the tip of the inside wing tracked backwards on the ground. This gave me some pucker factor, because in my plane, at thst airspeed (30-40 knots), a turn thst tight would be followed by a spin-cradh-and burn scenario. Instructors, and my own common sense, put the fesr of God into me about such naughty behavior. John and I were up for about a half hour. My seating position wasn't all that comfortable, so it was OK with me when we headed homeward.
Now, it's up,to us about what to do. Julie definitely wants to go up, and I'm considering. I had thought that a glider endorsement would be what I wanted. Now, I'm not as sure. Now, I think I want some training and experience in gliders, but am not so sure about going as far as to become a real glider pilot. We'll see.