MATAMATA CROSS COUNTRY 22-26 NOVEMBER 2010
By Gerard Robertson
Even my butterflies wanted to give it a go. I used to think that there were two sorts of pilots in the gliding club: me (and the other ‘normal’ members) and the private owners – daring sorts prone to leaving the field to return at day’s end, announcing their arrival with high speed, low level downwind passes followed by stories of derring-do in the bar afterwards. But now I’ve started down the track of becoming one of these buccaneers of the sky (even if I don’t have Trev Terry’s suave charm), courtesy of the week’s cross-country course at Matamata. These courses, whether there or at Omarama, demonstrate the inherently cooperative nature of gliding, where the best practitioners volunteer their time and skills (and sometimes aircraft) to help neophytes along the way to achieving distance. Can you imagine Dennis Connor giving sailing lessons? Although I started gliding as a 17 year old (a long time ago for those of you who know me), I had never mustered the confidence nor, frankly, been given the encouragement in either of the two clubs to which I have belonged, to consider going further afield. Contrast this with Tuesday morning’s debrief of Monday’s flying, where the first student who said that he’d landed out was given a round of applause for the successful implementation of his training. Whether your club is encouraging of cross-country flying or not, doing the course is a very worthwhile investment in improving your skills and safety. You owe it to yourself, as a pilot, to learn the explorer’s art and to your family, to learn to do so safely. The Matamata course I attended is well-organised, with lectures in the morning till about 11, followed by the weather and task briefing (just like competitions). At this point, whether due to enhanced anticipation or the bug which I had all week (or a combination thereof), my stomach would start to turn flops at the thought of being pushed out of the metaphorical nest and sent off to points north (e.g. Tirohia bridge) and south (Arapuni – that’s the dam after Karapiro, Warwick), plainly out of gliding distance. I was thus relieved on the afternoon of the first day to be sent off with company in the form of Paul Knight, who gave me some 32
December 2010
useful tips on accurate thermalling, which later came in useful. Days with instructors alternated with days in single seaters, as many had brought their club aircraft with them (sometimes sharing). Putting these into trailers to bring to the courses was a useful initiation for many, as landouts were not uncommon. With Waharoa sitting in the middle of the Waikato plains, the influence of sea breezes from north, west and east became realities to be taken into consideration as the sky turned blue and the thermals died away. By Thursday, when the task for the afternoon was announced and my name not listed with those who would be flying with the instructors/presenters in the two seaters, I felt nervous, yes, but also keen to get out and put into practice what had been talked about. Of the first two to launch, the single seater was promptly down near the Kaimais (well done, Will), while the two seater soon returned. The omens didn’t look promising, but with aircraft on the grid ahead of you and behind, it’s a little difficult to back out and besides, though there were butterflies, even they wanted to give it a go. Off aerotow at 2,000 ft, I quickly located the nearest sink and spent the first five minutes trying to escape it as it pursued me around the sky. Climbing back to release height I boldly set off towards the Kaimai Ranges, thinking I’d be better served by ridge-assisted thermals. Getting there wasn’t without complications, as I followed another glider already thermalling but couldn’t get the same centre and found myself at one stage head to head with inadequate (in my view) vertical separation. While my wife has reminded me of my paternal responsibilities by requiring me to wear a parachute, I saw no reason to test this security and so left for another cloud downwind. Virtue may be its own reward, but mine was a thumping good thermal, which quickly took me higher than the companion I’d just left (nah, nah). From here it was across to the Kaimais and along, with widelyspaced clouds providing steady lift. I was reminded of the limitations of aileron authority in thermals off ridges (refer Formosa’s book,
