Hi Saturday didn't look too promising, but Alice & I launched with three other gliders to do a mini-task: Dalby, Maclagan and back to McCaffrey field.
After my previous rather dismal effort, I was keen to show Alice that I had learnt something. We found a great thermal on the way to Dalby and climbed beautifully. This meant we arrived at Dalby later than the other three gliders, but a couple of thousand feet higher. Whilst they were scratching away from Dalby, we found another good thermal and soon set course for Maclagan. As we turned Maclagan, I could hear the other gliders setting course and hoped Alice felt as pleased with our performance as I did. The run back home to McCaffrey field was full of good lift and strong sink - sometimes quite close together and I called the other gliders to tell them of the conditions. Switching back to our chat frequency when we arrived home (with about 4000' to spare - I couldn't resist another lovely thermal), I heard the other gliders were soaring lazily with an eagle at Maclagan and taking photos. I decided that as the day was still quite young, we would go back up to Maclagan and join them. We were about 5 km short of Maclagan when they called they were leaving - but I still had not caught sight of them. We orbited and I finally saw KO (Jenny's ASW 20) below and a kilometer or so towards McCaffrey. We had height to burn, so after a quick check below for the other gliders I slid into full negative flap and Alice accellerated to 95kts. ALice's rough air speed is 97kts and I felt that this was wise in view of the closely spaced strong lift/sink I had experienced. Alice was catching up to KO when there were two huge negative G surges (possibly three - I seem 'hear' three bangs). I could feel my head hitting Alice's canopy and the cockpit atmosphere was filled with every bit of grass, dried mud, breadcrumbs etc that accumulate in the cracks even in the face of assiduous vacuuming. Amazingly it cleared quite quickly - through a new, large and impromptu ventilation hole just above me (through which it appeared my hat had also departed). I had no idea what had happened - I thought that maybe we had hit a bird. My heart was running at full emergency boost and the adrenaline was surging. I did a quick visual check out along the wings and Alice seemed OK. Very gently I eased the speed back (the elevator response felt OK) and slid the flaps to neutral (no awful sounds, sudden rolls or unexpected trim changes). I called the emergency on the chat frequency we were working and got back acknowledgments - but the added ventilation also added a lot of noise, making it very difficult to hear the radio. I found that turning up the volume resulted in distorion that made the messages unreadable, but by flying at 45kts or less with the radio volume up but not distorting I could communicate with everyone except Jenny in KO. I requested one of the other gliders to close with me and do a visual inspection - if there was visible damage I wanted to have the option of bailing out with plenty of height still beneath me. The report came back that there was no visible damage - a welcome message that did much for my morale, despite feeling awful about having damaged Alice. I decided I would fly gently back to McCaffrey field - a decision I relayed to my escorts. The final glide computer reassured me I had ample height for this - and a tail wind of about 4 kts. It seemed that I can't have hit anything: no apparent damage apart from the canopy, which was done by my head. Alice and I must have encountered some very strong clear air turbulence: we'd fallen down some rabbit holes in the sky! There was now time for a more detailed check round: the controls were responding normally, flaps and airbrakes worked OK, but I did not remember to check the undercarriage at this stage. I discovered my mints and mobile phone were missing from the pocket on the right side of the cockpit - and my water bottle had leaked out most of its contents. I could not see the missing articles anywhere and had to assume they too had exited through the new ventilation arrangements during the negative g. At 10km out from McCaffrey field with 3000' agl I switched to the local frequency and I called in my situation and intentions. It was then I decided I should lower the undercarriage - to discover the lever would move only about one third of the way forward. My heart accellerated back towards emergency boost - not helped when a more 'assertive' attempt to lower the undercarriage halted in the same place. At this point, the pressure began to tell as my radio procedure went somewhat awry. I think I just said "I can't get the undercarriage down!". Despite the lack of call sign, everyone seemed to know who was calling. It transpired that this had apparently happened before - Alice's batteries had jumped out of their housings in the strong turbulence and were jamming the undercarriage. It had been cleared previously by doing a bunt (negative g) to lift the offending batteries and simultaneously selecting the undercarriage down. As it was Jenny in KO that was trying to tell me this, the message was largely unreadable and had to be relayed to me. Initially I thought I was supposed to reach behind me and move the batteries that way (which, being behind the seat on which I was sitting, would have required I had the body and abilities of a contortionist and an escapologist - all done whilst still flying a glider), so I was a bit bemused and quickly decided a wheels up landing sounded safer! Once I understood what I had to do, I decided we would find a thermal and climb out before trying anything other than gentle flying. I was very uncertain what would happen to the damaged canopy when I increased speed to do the negative g pull up and also of Alice's flight characteristics without a canopy if the increased speed resulted in it coming apart completely. If everything went to hell in a handbasket I wanted as much height under me as possible to get clear of Alice if we had to part whilst still airborne. Alice found us a thermal and one of my escorts climbed with me (the company was most appreciated). I suggested he give me a bit of extra room as I was having some difficulty with speed control - the noise level in the cockpit made it feel that I was going much faster than I actually was and I did not want to risk spinning into him - he quickly gave me lots of room! During the climb, I thought about things and decided I would take the thermal to the top and then start off the bunts gently - a 60kt pull up followed by a push over. If that didn't work I'd try 70kts and a harder push over. I also thought about a wheels up landing - and decided the recently ploughed paddock just north of the field looked the softest place - poor Alice! Peter Bell, the CFI, called to suggest the same thing and having my decision endorsed did make me feel a bit better. During the climb I also moved the cockpit straps and tightened them down - the edges of the hole in the canopy looked quite sharp and I had no desire to become reacquainted with them during the bunt. I'm sure I'd have followed that thermal to the edge of space if it had gone that high - reaching the top meant I had to try the bunt - with all the negative possibilities; whilst I was climbing, I had a reason not to get on with it. All too quickly at about 6500' the thermal died and I advised my escort that I was going to head west (using the Warrego Highway as a marker to follow) and try the bunt. A check round the cockpit and a quiet word with Alice, then gently down with the nose - at 60kts a firm pull up and transition to push over - and the undercarriage lever slid fully forward and locked with the most gorgeously reassuring "clunk". My relief was such that it was, I heard after landing, palpably clear over the radio. During the descent, I had plenty of time to ponder things - including the inevitable wondering if I had failed to secure the batteries - and also to wonder why, if this had happened before, a fail safe way of securing the batteries had not been implemented. On landing, I needed help to open the canopy (it had jammed on the instrument panel) and as soon as I was out I (somewhat shakily I must admit) removed the seat and looked at the batteries: they were both standing on their ends out of their boxes - but with the bungees entangled in the leads. I obviously had not forgotten to secure them! I also found my mobile phone and two rolls of mints down the rudder pedal well: it's pretty gloomy down there and I had not been able to see them before. Luck had been with me that they had remained clear of the rudder pedals. Beneath the seat was a large puddle of water, which had of course leaked from my water bottle, not me (although at times...). I've learnt a few things from this experience. First of all, never fly with articles loose in the cockpit - and this includes never leaving the stowage pockets open with loose articles in them. Secondly, the semi-prone position in most single seaters is deceptive: even with the straps tight, really strong negative g can move you a long way - and I had a hole in the canopy to prove just how far! I am going to have to spend some time in Alice (when she gets her new canopy) sorting out a position that gives me more clearance. Finally, my experience has reinforced my feelings about the sky: it is a great place and I love being in it, but you have to play by its rules. The sky is neutral about us - as well as filling it with thermals and sunset lit cumulus, it also harbours the occasional rabbit hole!
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