Ilmailun riemua

Friday looked good for a visit to Lappohja again after almost two years absence. Now I felt confident in having a try at really flying there. We arrived just after 9 o'clock in the morning and the wind looked just right. Jeppe got away quickly  to a nice start - at this time the wind was about 10 -12 kt, and I felt pretty sure I could handle that. Heikki was next in the air, making the start look rather easy.


Heikki gets some air-time

Now my turn.

The wind had slightly strengthened and both Jeppe and Heikki were ready to give me a hand. How the adrenaline raced through my body - this was the real thing at last! Lifting the wing is critical: it must be sure, straight, controlled. Mine wasn't any of those things - after a wild and uncontrolled twist in the air (how undignified!), I was taken by the wind back and up into the forest, ripping the wing's fabric on the trunk of a mighty pine tree.  The end of my day's flying.

But not quite. After all, I could safely do a bit of ground handling, couldn't I, provided that I stayed right near the water, away from the trees?
Here is Jeppe's video, showing how to fly safely and stylishly. Included near the end is a shot showing how my "controlled" ground handling went.


Jeppe's view of things.

Note the large rock, towards which I could momentarily glimpse myself rushing head first, without being able to do anything to stop. Fortunately a gust lifted me over it and dumped me unceremoniously on the ground in the relative safety and shelter of the forest - again. Somebody might well ask "Aren't you getting a bit too old for all this?".

Maximum wind was about 15 - 18kt.

Everyone I'd heard had good to tell about his own visit to Leivonmäki (Skylark Hill), so I just had to try it. And I wasn't disappointed either - a couple of days really perfect flying weather and a couple more - well, as the saying goes nowadays - "challenging" flying. The site is in the middle of farming land reclaimed after peat-lifting: in other words, rather damp. Having flown (in the old days of the 1960s) at Weston On The Green and experienced there the effect of dampness and greenness on soaring flight, I have always been a bit sceptical about theories of the positive effects of wet peatland - or wet anyland - in this respect. But Leivonmäki has its own thermal sources, as I was to find out. 

Went out to Loppijärvi (Lake Loppi) about 55 km NNW of Helsinki. Clear skies and a steady, gentle southerly wind. By the time we got there, another club was already out on the ice, training new paragliding pilots. We set up our towing line parallel to theirs, and were soon ready to start. First trip of the year - a bit nervous, but the glider seems to handle nicely on the ground before flight: have to stretch the lines and remove the crinkles from the wing, which has been sitting in its bag since last autumn.

Now the tow-line tightens and we are in the air; around unfolds the clean clear white of the snowy landscape, with dark forest patches here and there. Soon it's time to cast off the line - over 600 m, not too bad!
After a little playing, turns to the right and left, speed up, slow down, hey, this is just as it should be! Now to carve out a nice landing pattern - downwind, then across, along the little ridge and back again to drop off some height, and now to turn in towards the landing spot, always such a satisfying experience. The last few metres, hold off, and a soft step onto the snow-covered ice. Done! Video of take-off and landing.

After most of us had flown three or four flights, the sun had already dipped down to the horizon and it was time to pack up our wings and equipment, and head off home, tired but very contented. Markus' flight video.

The nights draw in, the warmth of summer is a slowly-fading memory. Though we try to push the thought to the back of our minds, the flying year in Finland is gradually coming to its end. Wet and windy weather has recently been dominating the scene, but strangely has let up for several week-ends in a row. Those of us who are hardly past the nursery stage in paragliding are amassing flying time and launches to reach the next proficiency stage (PP3) which will allow us to head away from the home field and venture forth on our first cross-country. Next year!

Even now it is still possible to catch a thermal and have a soaring flight, but cloud-bases are lower. Like midges that want to hover in the last sunbeams, we airy addicts crowd to the flying field whenever there is a chance to get airborne: ultra-lights, "proper" powered aircraft, hang-gliders, paragliders - whatever.

 

This short video gives a taste of this end-of-summer frenzy at one of our Southern Finland sites - Hyvinkää airfield (EFHV).   

Looking back on the year, many happy memories: Gréolières, of course, soaring flights at Vesivehmaa and Kiikala, moving gradually towards routinely safe and competent take-offs and landings even in "challenging" wind conditions, meeting new pilots (learning new names!),  all this and much more.   

Above all, the flying itself: sitting up there in the whispering airflow, the entrancing patchwork of forest and fields laid out below one, and feeling the exciting jolt of running into a thermal: turning into it to find oneself rising and rising towards the clouds. Next year, again ... but for now "... barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,  And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;"

Practicing ground-handling in the local park at the end of May, I relaxed my concentration for a split second; as a result, I looped one line of the wing over a lamp-post. The metal chafed the cover off the line and I had to cut it through. The replacement arrived from Vietnam (!) three weeks later, so meanwhile I was grounded. Before the trip to France I had constructed a padded box for my pocket camera to be fixed to my flying helmet, but it didn't work out as it should have. After making alterations, I was itching to try it out again - and last Thursday I was at last standing hitched to the tow car, waiting for take-off. The results you can see here: the whole short flight unabridged.


EFHV - Hyvinkää


Irritating to lose such a promising thermal at 650m, but looking at the video and editing it has been rewarding anyway. Surprising how a relatively cheap camera produces such satisfying results. Many of my flying acquaintances use HD cameras, and the difference in the quality of the video is enormous, of course. With a 4GB card our little Canon Ixus 70 can record about a half an hour at this resolution. Later in the day conditions deteriorated, and the airfield became quite hectic, with several powered aircraft doing touch-and-gos, a gliding course in progress, and us "happy few" trying to cope with a wind that went round the clock. Downwind take-offs are just not on for paragliders.

Monday was a no-fly day for most of us - a few had a nice evening surprise at Gourdon when the conditions calmed down. During the day we visited St.-Paul.
But Tuesday - that was a day to remember. We climbed up our home slopes at Gréolieres, and all got into the air without incident. Again, like Sunday, thermals everywhere, but a fraction more difficult. Soon conditions at the landing-field (and in the air too) began to get too rough - at least for beginners like myself - and our vigilant instructors ordered us down in good time. Over half an hour in the air! Unfortunately I blotted my copybook by not keeping a good lookout in the air - very dangerous both for oneself and for other pilots. For this I received - deservedly - a right rollicking, which immediately resulted in "better behaviour" on subsequent flights.
During the afternoon we visited Antibes, on the coast, and had a pleasant few hours in the old town. Then back to Gourdon, where I had had my scary take-off on Sunday. This time I found myself properly in the driver's seat, rising and rising after take-off into the company of the faithful, so to speak. The evening was clear and the view to the coast magnificent. At the southern end of the ridge is a weather radar at the highest point, and little by little, cruising back and forth along the craggy ridge, we rose to that level, before it was time to reluctantly descend to the landing field that now looked so small (the pic shows the L-shaped field). On the way down the air was still rising in places, even though the whole ridge was in shadow. The message from the landing place was that the wind had changed to light westerly, which meant landing from an unaccustomed direction: the good thing was that the landing would be uphill instead of downhill. Thanks to the helpful advice from the instructor at the field, the approach and landing turned out well. 35 minutes in the air. A wonderful day's flying, and a birthday to remember!

First to relieve the minds of those wondering if their worst fears have come true: these words are not being written from beyond the grave - or even from a hospital bed: I'm still in one piece, alive and kicking.
Saturday was just arrival day: looking at the village, doing a bit of ground handling practice, having an excellent evening meal together and dropping into bed exhausted - most people had had an early start to the day with the flight departing from Helsinki at 06.40.
But Sunday: what a day! The take-off point on "our " mountain is about a 45 min uphill walk from the village. As our packs weigh in excess of 13 kg, and the climb is well over 200m up a rough track, you can imagine what a refreshing start to the day this makes - although on this occasion three of the group (yes, your "ancient" among them) managed to hitch a lift on a pickup truck with a local French pg. pilot!
And then the tension mounts as we await the magic moment to take to the air: who will be first, show the way? Being the least experienced has its compensations - I wasn't expected to rush forward. Soon our first team pilot "took the plunge" and, much relieved at his success, we soon followed him in quick succession. The flight would be my first lauch from a hill - and some hill! But it turned out surprisingly well - the conditions were perfect, and we all got lift from the hill, and more interestingly, thermals. My first thermal flight in a paraglider - unbelievably satisfying. All too soon our watchful instructors thought it best to call us in to land before landing conditions became too rough. Down we went in single file, one after the other to the landing field beside the village, final turn over the school, into wind, nice round out with brakes and plomp! safely down again. Almost half an hour in the air.
For the afternoon we drove to the big hill above the delightful little village of Gourdon. This was quite different from the morning: the wind at take-off was brisker and the landing field was more demanding, especially its smaller size and L-shape! My take-off was startling and alarming both to me and our watching group - but my good angel must have had his eye on me, and soon the flight continued normally - the landing wasn't perfect, but I had some field left when I'd come to a grinding halt. Not the same feeling of achievement as the morning, but many valuable lessons learnt. Then home to Gréolières to another good meal and bed. (Photo is of our terrace at Gîte du Cheiron,where we are staying.)

Only six short months from last spring; but then, hopes for a happy outcome to my paragliding dreams were at their nadir: the situation was ugly and nightmarish. Now I can write happily: some people believed in me, and I had the good luck to hitch myself to a first-class instructor, whose style of teaching suited me perfectly. Even the ugly duckling can fly at last.
I ordered myself some nice new equipment, and by mid-May I ventured out onto our "home green" at Pikku Huopalahti to try my first ground-handling.


Over the following weeks, while waiting for the real flying instruction to begin, ground handling became a way of life: fortunately the southerly sea-breeze often favoured the nearby fields. Local people like to take evening strolls and jogs in this area, and I drew quite a bit of attention, especially among the children, who liked to have fun running under the wing, dodging the lines as the wing fell back to ground. People gladly offered all sorts of advice. One little girl's very-audible comment to her mother as they passed: "Mummy, there's no sense at all in what he's doing". Little by little, my fear of the big wing in the wind lessened and lessened, and my confidence and my knowledge of what wind I could manage, and what was too strong or too turbulent, grew.
Then, on 6th. August, I flew my first high tow with my own wing over a beautiful piece of farmland near Kärkölä (for pilots: next to "Anton"). It was near the end of the hottest summer period on record, and the wind was quite light; my starting technique was abysmal, but once I got into the air safely, it all fell together - the onus for a safe tow, especially in the first few seconds of flight, is very much on the tow driver.
After that, progress was much quicker (see e.g. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O3W0TB9fzww in which Santtu flies first, then me), and after a wonderful afternoon's flying at Sofieberg on 9th. September, I was finally checked out as an OK PP2 flier.
The two final flights to make up the minimum of 40 required I flew at Hyvinkää last monday.For the first time I had some thermal turbulence to deal with, but all went well. 500m launches! After this I accompanied my instructor to Suomenlinna, where I was able to watch really good pilots flying the ramparts (see http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9WpkWO9FnlM , sorry about the wind noise, click on mute) . My wing stayed in its bag: these kinds of jaunts might just be for me in some years time - or maybe never!
To crown the summer's flying - and this is real, real flying - take a look at this video:
http://www.vimeo.com/14880591
My share at Lappohja was supposed to be just to practice ground handling, in particular kiting, but I also managed to "accidentally" take off and fly straight into a tree, and then later, very tired, I was hauled backwards up another tree by my so-willing wing: the results show nicely in the video. For this exploit I earned the doubtful honour of collecting "tree points", without which no real paragliding pilot is (apparently) able to hold his head up. The wing took a lot of getting down, but in the end, dog tired, I got it into its bag. Later, with the wing suspended from the lighting system in our living room, Sirkka helped me with extracting the tons of Lappohja sand from the interior of the wing. The video shows how the pundits flew the ridge lift from this difficult site with such aplomb.

... "Tomorrow to fresh woods, and pastures new."

Really this is all Wittgenstein's fault - I mean, the form of this blog. I'll explain later. Let's go back to 6th June, 1971. I'm on a quickie out-and-return from Nummela to Hyvinkää in our (Cumulus') beautiful turquoise blue Vasama Victor Alpha Juliet. Dryish thermals ahead of a weak warm front, surface wind from about SW, upper wind from the NW. About half-way home from Hyvinkää (this is 1971: I'm not troubled by any air traffic control, "their" airspace base is 6000 ft), I find a rather rough dry thermal and work it up to about 5000 ft, but then lose it and head out westwards ... into very weak smooth lift. Hm ... feels like wave (I'd been to the wave camps at Kebne and Pallas) ... and so it turns out. Backwards and forwards along a SW - NE imaginary line, and soon approaching 6000ft I ask Helsinki ATC for clearance upwards: refused. Oh well ... back to Nummela. My first thermal wave.

Jump 39 years to 6th June, 2010. Hyvinkää. No great expectations, looks like dry thermals below increasing medium-level cloud. Let someone else try: send out the Astir dove from the ark - but the dove doesn't return, he's in lift. Now a serious rush for take-off, behind the other Astir and the LS-7. Sitting in the Hyvinkää Ilmailukerho's ASK-21 with Roger, chatting in our own tongue, we still don't expect much - just a quick local flight, I want to try the latest version of Cumulus (see Cumulus flight navigator), Roger wants to get acquainted with the countryside.

No luck: 4 minute circuit.

Try again - this time we find some weak stuff, and slowly but ever more surely we extract ourselves from the G47 ABC "prison", 4000ft, 5000ft, finally FL60. All the time lift improving, and then real cumulus. But - best of all - wave clouds. To continue we have to be in D or E, so we push further north, with the navigator giving us confidence that we have bags of height to get home. The clouds get ever firmer, and now, for the first time we feel, in clear air, between cumulus streets, the unmistakable silky-smooth wave. Going still one step northwards, we finally reach even better wave lift. We are still below cloudbase, but now we cruise along in the clear air in a WSW - ENE direction in weak but steady lift. Up, up, past cloudbase; now we can see that the NWly flanks of the cumulus streets are here and there smooth, like gently rolling hillsides. Above us, much higher, a long lenticular cloud bank helps us keep our direction parallel to its edge. We do a few circles in the lift, and the navigator confirms that we are in a NW'ly flow, one at right angles to that of the convection layer where we had earlier circled in thermals. Looks like thermal wave.

We reluctantly break off our dream flight at FL95 - why didn't we have the confidence to ask for more before take-off? Now back home, enjoying our more than adequate height, funnelling ourselves down and in through C and B into A.

Esa and Kari have arranged a grill evening, bless them: club members gather round and sit in the soft evening sunshine and talk, or just listen. But for me, and I guess for Roger too, we are still up there, amidst the peace and beauty of the cloudscapes, floating about without a care in the world. It's difficult to come back down to earth.


Oh yes - what about Ludvig W., how did he get into this? At the beginning I sat looking at the blank screen, trying to think how to start this blog. With such marvellous experiences to express, but so many conflicting thoughts, too. Why am I writing this, for whom, how can I explain these sensations of joy and satisfaction? And in Finnish, still a foreign language for me after all these (45) years? Wittgenstein's famous dictum about what can and what cannot be said came uninvited to mind. I turned to the Oxford Dictionary of Quotations to see what L.W. had really said. P. 824. So that was it? Not very impressive after all - but, hey, what's this he said, too - this is my problem in a nutshell: "The limits of my language mean the limits of my world" (Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus (1922)). That's what's holding me back - trying to express my dearest thoughts in a language other than my own. Why not write in English? (small voice: "No-one will read it anyway, so what does it matter, except to you yourself?). Done. I read quotations from the next author (P.G. Wodehouse 1881 - 1975), and feel much better. Then I read those from the previous author (George Wither 1588 - 1667), and feel much, much worse. Thank God for flying in sailplanes.

Tuleeko koskaan rumasta ankanpojasta, minusta, kaunis joutsen? Koko syksyn ja alkutalven olen yrittänyt omaksua tietoa kaikkialta tästä kiehtovasta leikistä, mutta varsinainen fyysinen suoritukseni on ollut lähes säälittävä, ilman eloa, ilman vähääkään ymmärrystä. Opettajani on epätoivoisesti yrittänyt, kaverit ovat tukeneet, mutta taival on ollut tuskallisen kivikkoista.
Sunnuntai 17. tammikuuta - hieno etelänpuoleinen tuuli, vintturihinaukset Kallvikin länsipuolella olevalla avoimella lumikentällä. Tuuli on liian kovaa minulle, vielä jumiutunut alkutaipaleelle, noin 12 matalaa lentoa tehneenä ja maakäsittelyssä aivan avutonna. Toiset lentävät, tyydyn seuraamaan sivusta. Tuuli tyyntyy hivenen, päätettiin kokeilla rukkashinausta (ks. esim. http://kauhajokinyt.fi/~eprl/koulutus/koulutus.htm). Kärsivällisesti pidettiin minua kuten kukkasta kämmennellä narun päässä, ensiksi korjasin tuulen suunnanmuutoksia sivusta toiseen nojaamalla ja ohjaimia käyttäen, sitten rohkenin vähän leijailla jalat pikkuisen irti pinnasta, sitten ... huomasin, että taivaan portit, joita olin kolistellut turhaan niin monien kuukausien aikana, avautuivat itsestään - "se meni kaaliini" eikä enää yli hilseen.
Sen jälkeen edistystä alkoi tapahtua, ja viime sunnuntaina, hienona päivänä Karhusaaren edustalla, opettaja oli sitä mieltä, että olin valmiina ensimmäiseen korkeaan lentoon. Kolmannen lennon jälkeen huomasin, että olin liittynyt oikeasti siihen rohkeaan joukkoon, jotka lensivät - niin vaivattoman näköisesti - lähellä meitä samalla lumikentällä.
Tiistai, 9. maaliskuuta, 2010, jälleen Granön jäätiellä. Oli hieno aurinkoinen keli - mannermaan päällä epäilemättä termiikkiäkin - ja sopivan kutsuvaa länsi-luoteista tuulta. Lensin kolme lentoa ja uskoni vain vahvistui - minustakin taitaa tulla varjoliitäjä! Taivaallinen olo, istun ilmassa, kohtaloni omissa käsissä!
Seuraavan kerran kuvia, lupaan.

Kiitos, Timo, kutsustasi olla mukana blogissa! (You may live to regret it!)
Uusin ilonaiheeni on varjoliito. Uskon, että vanha rakkaus, purjelento, elää ja voi hyvin jatkossakin. Ajattelin kertoa opintieltä aloittelijan tuntemuksia varjoliitimen "penkistä", ja vertailla niitä purjelennon kokemuksiin.