COMBAT AND COMPETITION.pdf - Lakes Gliding Club

COMBAT AND COMPETITION
pushing it up further. As for handling, the less said about that the
better.
Surprisingly I developed a soft spot for her. Partly, I suppose,
because she took me on my first real flight in wave. Over 6000 feet on
a balmy, cloudless, late summer's afternoon. A gentle wave, in phase
with the hill, and I sat there being wafted slowly upwards. No need to
push her around or indulge in any heroics. Only on the long way down
- heaving at the toggle end of a cable which held the spoilers open -
did life become tedious. I dearly wanted to tie a knot in it - in more
senses than one!
More likely my affection for the Petrel stemmed from her owner.
For Espin Hardwick was the kindest of men. A hunchback with the
heart of a lion. A successful Stockbroker who, with all his disabilities,
had somehow managed to retain a charming, almost childlike, love for
his sport. Not that he looked the least like a child. Indeed his strong
features bore an uncanny resemblance to the buzzards which soared
above his beloved Mynd.
But you only had to be there when he landed, helping him out of
the cockpit, and he could hardly control his enthusiasm:
"David, its really good at the moment. There's a strong belt of lift
running straight out from Asterton. It goes on and on! Take my Petrel
and try it."
He was always treated with respect. Only a few long standing
members, addressed him as Espin. To the rest of us he was Mr
Hardwick. Whenever he appeared he was surrounded by helpers. We
fussed about him, moving his glider out of the hanger and taking it to
the launch point. Packing him in with cushions. It was rather old
fashioned, almost feudal, but none the worse for that.
I had agreed to help Theo with Will Nadin's ATC camp at the end
of the summer. Will, as Group gliding officer for the Midlands, had
somehow obtained authority to use the Mynd for instructor training.
My father was there too, flying as a club member, and Will generously
invited him to join in. He insisted that I was doing him a favour and
father was an ATC instructor. So what did it matter if his gliding
school was up in Scotland?
It was a good start, and they were a friendly bunch, but I felt
restless and frustrated. I had set my heart on a Silver 'C, before
returning to Glasgow, and the distance leg was still outstanding.
One morning, after a cold front had gone through, the temptation
became irresistible. A little persuasion and Theo agreed to run the
142