I was on the freeway by 10am and pushing hard to do the 140km ASAP. Sometimes the speeds went higher but only when the coast was clear of highway patrols and speed cameras. The sky was dark and grey thanks to a vague and perpetual layer of cloud that dropped light drizzle during the whole trip. I forged ahead despite its threat to kill any possibility of a flight. At the halfway point the fuel icon lit up which meant I was down to the last 9 liters, probably enough to cover the rest of the trip but I wasn’t going to risk the flight because I ran out of gas. Airtime is too rare these days. I rolled into the Caltex at Swansea, 30km short, filled the tank and five minutes later I was on the road heading north into Newcastle.
The rain stopped just before I arrived at Merewether. The hill faced squarely into the cool, 18 knot SSE sea breeze while a lone hang glider meandered back and forth above the launch. The deliberate figure-of-eights and red streamer flying off the kingpost identified it as a trainer. At the edge of take-off Tony Barton stood alone, rugged-up in winter gear to beat off the cold, his hands holding a radio close to his face while he looked up to observe the student’s every move. From a distance Tony’s instructions were just a murmur as he coached his charge, then he slowly glanced around and offered a nod and a smile before returning his full attention to the student. I rolled the glider off my shoulder and didn’t slow down to set-up but I did look up once or twice to catch a glimpse of the soloing student. Each time made me grin, half in admiration of the pilots’ new found freedom, half in the anticipation of being airborne in about 15 minutes.
Just as I launched the drizzle started again so I set a course for the strongest lift in front of the eastern face. Maximum height was the ideal holding pattern to ride out the wet while the rain passed by. Tiny beads of water quickly coated the sunglasses and basebar, both good measures of how wet the Mylar got, and a look upwards revealed beading along the leading edges. As the droplets coalesced and grew on the top surface the airflow deteriorated and the wing confirmed this with a diminishing performance and poor handling. The turns insisted on being progressively flatter, and faster, and there was an increasing margin above the usual stall speed. I pulled on a full arms length of VG and the subtle and increasing tendency for the nose to 'nod' disappeared.
I eyed the full deck of grey cloud in all directions and waited for improving conditions but at the same time I already felt that inner relief tinged with euphoria, the contentment that descends the moment that last step gives a final push to launch hang glider and pilot into the air. I was no longer confined to the direction of a highway or the limit of a speed camera, or the authority of the police, or anyone else. Movement now was free and bound only by the imagination. Flying straight, turning, flying level, sedately, quietly soaring over the ocean remote from the land-based life. Freedom.
Gradually the rain stopped and the sky brightened-up as the cloud deck thinned. The glider began to dry out. Small cumuli could now be seen within the general cloud cover and soon waves of lift started appearing as lines of slightly darker water on the ocean surface, ‘sets’, that moved-in perpendicular to the wind direction, mild at first but increasing in strength over the next hour. The intermittent increase in altitude gave a stark contrast to the lower and slightly longer lulls in between the waves of lift. Good timing with each sweep of the instability allowed for a jump to and back from adjacent headlands north and south. At any one time a look out over the ocean showed three to four equally spaced, parallel lines of instability that arrived like clockwork.
I rode the waves of instability and flew into the afternoon. The lift lines continued to get thicker and more defined and now and then a bulge along the leading edge of the squall would catch the eye, so I waited from up high before spotting the next one. It was about 500m upwind so with VG 'on' I flew a course to intercept and eventually reached it at about 300’ ASL over the beach. Right away the sink slowed and smoothly reversed into solid lift of about 400’/minute. I continued straight ahead, eased off the VG and let the glider settle-in at trim and watched the headland in the distance drop away relative to the next one behind. I banked to the left and once the turn was established was 'on rails' in the smooth seabreeze. It’s the middle of winter at a cold and overcast coastal site so I expected the lift to die out before too long. But it didn't. The first few circles were telling, they connected with a constant climb rate as the glider threaded its way up to higher altitude, and well away from the cliffs and ridge lift.
I circled and drifted and watched the beach, surf and headlands drop away. The positions of the hills out to the west were a good gauge of climb and I had double launch height in short order. I re-centered a few times mainly to correct slightly upwind and watched Lake Macquarie and Speers Point, both about 10km away, come into view. The big construction cranes 5km away lined up with Mount Sugarloaf in the distance and a few more turns had them dropping out of alignment altogether. I quickly passed through the first thousand feet and the climb rate didn’t vary one bit. I looked up to gauge how far away cloud base was and felt there would be some drifting involved to make the link, and there was no coming back once committed. Today was the day for a XC from the coast. I was flying to a timetable and had other commitments so the opportunity was passed-up so the rest of the afternoon was spent staying within reach of the car. The rest of the flight was a mix of ridge soaring and biding time before circling in the next thermal, getting as high as possible before straightening-up and gliding back to the coast. Still great fun but I wish I could have gone with it.
These were rare conditions. It only happens a few times a year and usually at the change of season but to get really good climbs like today is special. The thermals were most consistent and strongest at about 2pm. At that time the drift direction had improved and gave a tailwind of about 30kph. Inland the clouds looked flat bottomed, tall and about 7000-8000’ AGL. A three hour flight with a conservative pace would have given a fantastic tour of the Hunter Valley, despite the early twilight at this time of the year. That would have been something really good to write about.
I landed, packed the glider and harness, loaded up the car and drove out of the carpark. Soon I was back on the freeway.
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