COMBAT AND COMPETITION.pdf - Lakes Gliding Club

CHAPTER NINE A KIND OF APPRENTICESHIP
I soon discovered that I had totally misjudged him. He came across to
my desk, waving Charlie to join him.
"Hope you're feeling better!" There was a twinkle in his eye.
"That was a great flight! You can do that sort of thing as often as
you like. Provided you let me know beforehand. Then I won't look
such a fool when the papers ring up to ask me about it!"
My first Nationals, taking part as a team entry with Charles
Wingfield, was a non event. Camphill, with its short winch runs and
low launches, was never the easiest of thermal sites and the small
fields, ringed by stone walls, were not a happy hunting ground for
pilots struggling low down in marginal conditions. As luck would have
it the opening days were just that - with a gentle easterly drift -
carrying the brave and foolhardy out over the valley towards Mam Tor
and deeper into the hills.
There were some courageous attempts, mostly by the lucky few
blessed with Weihes6 , creeping away in the direction of Manchester -
and later in the week, as the weather broke down in a thundery col, a
day of occasional intrepid climbs. The pattern of those brief high
altitude efforts was always the same. A momentary shaft of sunshine
breaking the gloom to coincide with a fortunate or well timed winch
launch. A fast and violent climb - inside a cu-nim which was
embedded deep in the murk - and a heart in mouth descent through
hail and deluging rain praying for sight of the ground.
At Camphill there were no de-rated days 7 , no launching grids8 ,
and few tasks. You watched the sky, biding your time, hiding your
intentions until the last possible minute. The whole idea was to be
there on the launch point before anyone else could react. Unfair? - by
modern standards certainly. Too great an element of luck? - without
a doubt. Did we mind? - not at all. For those simple unfettered
competitions had a spice of adventure and uncertainty which is
missing today. There was more choice and much more fun for the
crews.
Charles and I got it wrong that year. My logbook shows two
circuits, not even extended ones, and his was no better. When the
weather started to break he exercised his owner's prerogative, decided
that conditions would put his aircraft at too great a risk, and grounded
us both.
Although contest flying was in short supply there were other
diversions. The tiny pub down below the hill at Little Hucklow did a
roaring trade.
149