ENTRY A
The Armchair of the Gods
I sat in the cockpit of my sailplane, pulse racing as always as I watched the tightening of the snaking umbilical cord between the tug-plane and myself. Tense moments as I kept the glider on the narrow strip of tarmac in the slight crosswind until flying speed lifted me from the runway. Concentration now switched to keeping low until the tug was also in the air. Almost immediately began the intense low altitude turbulence often associated with the atmospheric conditions that drew me to this Highland airfield in October. Fighting to maintain position behind the tug I was relieved when at 2000ft I felt a surge of rising air that would allow me to release the towrope. As usual I was too early, greedy for the height gain to be recorded from the point of release, I found myself in a struggle not to loose height in even worse turbulence. Barely in command I fought with the controls to keep within the scraps of lift that would prevent an ignominious retreat perhaps not even to reach the now distant airfield.
Gradually the ups exceeded the downs and suddenly I was in the uncannily smooth torrent of rising air that I was looking for.
I was now climbing at hundreds of feet per minute in the system of standing waves that occur in the upper air in the lee of mountain ranges in the stable atmospheric conditions of autumn. I was now established at the leading edge of one of those waves edging along its length and exulting in the enormous power of nature, subservient to it but also part of it. A wonderful partnership between man, machine and the elements.
Soon I was at cloud height and climbing up the pristine wall of cloud my wingtip almost touching. I was in the gap of clear air between the long smooth lenticular clouds which characterize the wintering sky.
A thrill went down my spine as I saw the ghostly shadow of a glider keeping station alongside, the silhouette of my head at the centre of an iridescent halo, the circular rainbow of a Brocken spectre to add to my delight, but oh for the camera left behind in the car!
Amazing how quickly the cloud and my ethereal doppelganger were left behind. I was looking down on the serried ranks of lenticulars lined up from the Grampians to the sea gleaming in the sun. In the distance I could see other gliders but had no wish to join them.
Chatter on the radio told me that others were enjoying similar conditions hundreds of miles to the south. Its strange how the radio never seemed to work over a few miles when you needed it. I switched it of content in my solitary splendour.
I was now facing directly into the wind flying at seventy knots to keep from drifting back into the descending air behind the wave’s invisible peak. I was still ascending rapidly yet unconscious of movement, seemingly suspended in space in the deep cerulean sky. Only the instruments and a gentle whisper from the smooth airflow told otherwise.
I reclined in my magic armchair marveling at the feeling, a divinity remote from the cares of mere mortals below. Only the astronauts can share this godlike experience free of the bounds of earth, but only the glider pilot can experience it alone.
A rapid bleeping from the variometer disturbed my reverie, in the increasing wind speed as I gained height I had drifted back into the descending air and I was falling as quickly as I had risen. I pushed the nose down to increase speed to 90knotts watching the altimeter unwind in fatal fascination. At last the frantic bleep was converted to the comforting monotonous tone of a life support machine, that denoted rising air again.
I glance at the altimeter - 12000ft. I should have put on the oxygen mask before this. I fumbled around for the mask displaced in the earlier turbulence. Finally secured the sound of heavy breathing and the smell of rubber intruded in my senses and brought back feelings of mortality, a god no more! Through the narrowing gap in the cloud the twin lochs were a comforting sight. I was still in contact with reality and within reach of Aboyne.
I was beginning to feel the cold and my reclining armchair was no longer comfortable. I was over 15000ft. More than enough height gain for my Gold C badge. It was time to leave the realm of the gods.
I opened my air brakes pointed the nose earthward and spiraled down to the now darkening world below the clouds, the twilight of the gods.
As I perched on the uncomfortable stool in the warmth of the bar surrounded by other minor divinities all eager to tell of their experiences on that unforgettable day I mused silently, thinking fondly of my magic armchair.