| Flight details: | Arriving at Combe shortly after nine, there were half-a-dozen people in the air, some quite high - that boded well for launching before the BCC crew after their 10am briefing. After a quick boat about, I landed and took-off again with bout 20 i the air, but the size of the ridge giving much less crowded air than the Dyke, for instance.
A few bits of lift came and went, mostly getting me to 1000' ATO, but nothing too promising to run with. A couple of stepped climbs - climbing a little, pushing out, reconnecting with lift, pushing out etc - got me in a nice 360 with reasonable lift all the way round, and I stuck with it. After five minutes of very gentle, maybe 30-second turns, I was 2km behind the hill and only 500 feet higher. Seeing a Green and Black Tequila ahead of me climbing over Linkenholt (not Sinkenholt this morning!) I barred it as much as I dared and scraped in beneath hill.
The next 40 mins was a sequence of the Tequila finding lift, me chasing from below, finding the thermal, catching up with him, and he gliding off. Worried I was being frowned upon for my Pimpness, I decided to make sure I left the next thermal, at Andover, ahead of my companion. Which I did, and never saw him again. What happened there, I wonder?
What a day, though! Decent climbs to be had all over, nothing too gnarly, the landscape still cooking, all to play for - as I had said to Catherine just that morning, be careful to not get pinned by the New Forest and you'll be fine. So, yes, that is exactly what happened to me. Having not pushed West enough I was increasing squeezed by airspace and what looked like unlandable territory to me. The right climbs in the wrong place conspired to bob me up into S'ton 2500 zone, and after big-earing, and having nowhere to go apart other than upwind, I reluctantly found a field with no horses in (not so easy around there) and landed.
Still, a dozen thermals, 54k and three hours of fun. Usual lessons learnt (or not) - Plan, plan |
