New Butterfly Vario

On Feb 11, 4:31*pm, wrote:
Massive trolling aside on this thread.... Hank, let them use the AH. Darwinism will kick in. There is a very good chance (as Richard and others mentioned earlier) that inexperienced and/or untrained IFR pilots going into these conditions will probably exit the clouds in a wingless glider. Lawn dart material. Problem solved. We won't have to read their comments any more. ;-)
Craig

Nice post Craig. Maybe some of the younger pilots who didn't grow up
in the bad old days of soaring and want to embrace modern technology
will rip their in-experienced wings off and die as their gliders lawn
darts into the ground. Just think how happy you'll be to not have to
read their trolling posts anymore.

Brilliant, simply brilliant.

Brad

In article 26927612.551.1329006666807.JavaMail.geo-discussion-forums@pbbmq9 writes:
Massive trolling aside on this thread.... Hank, let them use the AH. Darwin=
ism will kick in. There is a very good chance (as Richard and others mentio=
ned earlier) that inexperienced and/or untrained IFR pilots going into thes=
e conditions will probably exit the clouds in a wingless glider. Lawn dart =
material. Problem solved. We won't have to read their comments any more. ;-=
)


If they are IFR pilots, they have had training, and some level of experience,
rather far more than a newly minted glider pilot without other ratings.

I seem to recall folks telling how strong gliders actually were.


Now this *is* part of a pretty good answer to the claims that new pilots
should learn to fly gliders before power. Clearly, it is not so, as the casual
attitude of the gliding community towards busting clearance minimums from
clouds, not knowing how to set their altimeters legally, etc., is a demonstration
that pilots should start with power with a good instructor, so by the "principle
of primacy" they would learn the proper habits first, and retain them.


Alan

On Feb 11, 7:52*pm, (Alan) wrote:
In article 26927612.551.1329006666807.JavaMail.geo-discussion-forums@pbbmq9 writes:
Massive trolling aside on this thread.... Hank, let them use the AH. Darwin=
ism will kick in. There is a very good chance (as Richard and others mentio=
ned earlier) that inexperienced and/or untrained IFR pilots going into thes=
e conditions will probably exit the clouds in a wingless glider. Lawn dart =
material. Problem solved. We won't have to read their comments any more. ;-=
)

* If they are IFR pilots, they have had training, and some level of experience,
rather far more than a newly minted glider pilot without other ratings.

* I seem to recall folks telling how strong gliders actually were.

* Now this *is* part of a pretty good answer to the claims that new pilots
should learn to fly gliders before power. *Clearly, it is not so, as the casual
attitude of the gliding community towards busting clearance minimums from
clouds, not knowing how to set their altimeters legally, etc., is a demonstration
that pilots should start with power with a good instructor, so by the "principle
of primacy" they would learn the proper habits first, and retain them.

Speaking of "trolling", I've seen no suggestion by anyone on this
thread that they want to have their high tech artificial horizon so
that they can go cloud flying when they feel like it, nor are they
suggesting that prohibition against cloud flying in US contests should
be eliminated. Some, rightly or not, want such a device in case they
find themselves in a cloud unintentionally. Others, like myself,
wonder whether requiring changes to one device before allowing its use
in contests make any sense in a world where just about every new phone
is or will soon be capable of implementing a fully functional
artificial horizon using a $5 off the shelf app. Meanwhile, people
find plenty of ways to kill themselves without entering IMC at all...

Marc

On 2/11/2012 8:18 PM, Marc wrote:

Speaking of "trolling", I've seen no suggestion by anyone on this
thread that they want to have their high tech artificial horizon so
that they can go cloud flying when they feel like it, nor are they
suggesting that prohibition against cloud flying in US contests should
be eliminated. Some, rightly or not, want such a device in case they
find themselves in a cloud unintentionally. Others, like myself,
wonder whether requiring changes to one device before allowing its use
in contests make any sense in a world where just about every new phone
is or will soon be capable of implementing a fully functional
artificial horizon using a $5 off the shelf app. Meanwhile, people
find plenty of ways to kill themselves without entering IMC at all...

Marc makes a good point about the "hard trends" for the communicators
(aka smartphones) a lot of us now carry, and most will carry in the near
future.

I can think of several ways to reduce or eliminate cloud flying, but I'm
not rating their practicality or likely acceptance.

1) The honor system: no panel mounted devices, and we trust the pilot
not to sneak any device on board with the intent to use it in-flight.

2) Peer pressu allow or disallow devices, but encourage many pilots
to routinely inspect the IGC files of the top 10 or so competitors, and
anyone else they think might cheating. Noting a glider getting well
above other flights in the same area could lead to some private
discussions with the pilot about his "anomaly".

3) Committee assigned penalties: CD and some pilots chosen by the
entrants examines IGC files for the the discrepancies mentioned under
"Peer pressure". Anomalous height gains can be penalized by the committee.

4) CD sets maximum allowed altitude enforced like the 18K limit: simple,
and could allow a 30 second excursion for unintentional busting.

5) IGC logger with secure imaging: the logger saves images of the view
from the cockpit every 10 seconds, tagged with secure data to tie the
picture to the GPS trace. Any anomalous altitude readings lead to
examining the images of that period for cloud flying.

This video logger might also be a real asset in accident reconstruction,
especially fatal accidents. Video cameras with GPS logging are already
widely available at cheap prices, but none are secure that I know of.
The cheapest are generally the "car crash recorder" type, that also have
3 axis G sensors (search for SMARTY BX1000 on Amazon.com). There are
cheaper video/GPS units without G sensors, too.

--
Eric Greenwell - Washington State, USA (change ".netto" to ".us" to
email me)

On 2/11/2012 7:52 PM, Alan wrote:
Now this *is* part of a pretty good answer to the claims that new pilots
should learn to fly gliders before power. Clearly, it is not so, as the casual
attitude of the gliding community towards busting clearance minimums from
clouds, not knowing how to set their altimeters legally, etc., is a demonstration
that pilots should start with power with a good instructor, so by the "principle
of primacy" they would learn the proper habits first, and retain them.

Gliding instruction does not include a casual attitude to cloud
clearances, anymore than power instruction includes scud running. Both
of those usually happen after the pilot is licensed.

"Primacy" usually applies to reflexive reactions to aircraft attitude,
not conscious decisions over several minutes or longer, as climbing to
cloud base or scud running involve.

My observations as a glider instructor indicate it's easier to teach
people to fly a glider in this order, with the easiest first:

1) hang glider pilots
2) very low time power pilots (barely soloed)
3) people with no piloting experience
4) experienced GA power pilots (I'm excluding groups like aerobatic pilots)

The power pilots may eventually be very good glider pilots, but the "law
of primacy" was very obviously interfering with their glider airmanship.

--
Eric Greenwell - Washington State, USA (change ".netto" to ".us" to
email me)

Back to being serious on a serious subject... the problem truly resides in the glider pilot's abilities. I'm a power pilot as well as glider pilot. One of the most dangerous power pilots around is an IFR rated pilot that flys under the hood once in a blue moon to keep current and then goes into nasty conditions thinking they have the skills to handle it. Now just imagine a glider pilot that isn't IFR rated entering zero visibility having read the instrument manual with little to no practical experience (Condor or flight sims don't count). Tragedy is just around the corner. The point is to not get into that situation. This is the safest course of action. Follow the rules and be safe.
Craig

Please read Kempton Izuno's article (2005) "Into the Bowels of Darkness" on page 12 of the link below or in the following copied text.

http://www.pacificsoaring.org/westwi...2_WestWind.pdf

Into the Bowels of Darkness
© Kempton Izuno 2005 . All images by author.
Writing about soaring is easy with an achievement to share or a flight you are proud of. Enthusiasm and pride
are in great supply. But the flight(s) will come of which you are less than proud or downright embarrassed about.
Or worse, a flight from which you don’t return...
Since you are reading this article, you may presume I’ve not had one of the latter flights, but a few have been
close. Coming to the edge of disaster and living to learn from it is an incredible gift. In my case, a SOARING
Safety Corner article (see sidebar) read 30 years ago, is what saved my bacon after I was sucked into a cloud.
A Major Thank You to Bruce Carmichael for writing “The Spiral Dive”. May you, dear reader, never have this
experience.
Prelude
The forecast looked good for the central Nevada Great Basin area, so I planned for several days based out of
Tonopah, Nevada. Launching out of Hollister, California on June 17, 2003 in my ASH-26E, I slid across the
Central Valley and Sierra Nevada mountains, arriving at Tonopah in the late afternoon.
Part of the normal summer soaring routine in the Great Basin is working cumulonimbus clouds (CB). Now CB in
most parts of the world are BIG (50 miles or more across) and should be avoided. In Nevada, with the dry land,
dry air and high ground, there often can be small (3-4 miles across) CB cells with strong lift which do not block
your path. These “small” cells really speed up your flight and are the smallest CBs, but still hold significant risk.
13
Warning Signs
The forecast for June 18 showed scattered CB cells with bases around 17,000 ft, strong heating and a very light SW
wind. The first leg along the Monitor range is great, with strong lift and a light tailwind. Turning near Elko, I head
northwest following a line between towering cu to my north and overdevelopment (OD) to the south. Rain shafts are
becoming more widespread under the cu to the south, but this does not overly concern me. There’s a ways to go
before turning south and I expect that by that time, I’ll be west of the high ground and clear of the OD. Averaging
16,000 ft or so, the path ahead looks good.
FLASH! Lightning appears around the rain shafts to the south of me while the sky ahead is 40% cu, and to the far
north, along the Oregon border, it is dark with more overdevelopment. Confident I can make McDermitt, I press on. By
2pm however, it’s clear bases are dropping on track, so 20 miles short of McDermitt I turn south along the Santa Rosa
range. Lift continues to weaken producing a stair step descent as I aim to get back to the strong lift on the edge of the
OD area to the south.
By 3pm I’m down to 9,200 ft just north of Winnemucca having averaged only 50mph for the last hour. Frustrated at the
slow speed, I’m really hungry for the BIG lift to get going again. Now under the first of a number of dark based clouds,
I make three more climbs, each better than the last, reinforcing my decision to move back to the OD area. The lift is
good (15,000 ft bases with 6 knot climbs), but I think, there MUST be better lift nearby. Cloud cover is now 70+% with
rain shafts. Anxiously, I scan the sky for a “young” cloud to get my expected 12+ knot climb. The stage is now set. I’m
in high risk weather with a very impatient attitude.
Trouble…..BIG Trouble
Threading my way between rain shafts 25 miles ESE of Winnemucca, I spy “the” cloud. With a very dark and clearly
much higher base than the neighboring clouds, plus no rain shaft, I think, “YES!, this is the boomer I KNEW was
around here! Now it’s going to be easy!”. As with investing, right before things go bad, there is often overconfidence.
Let us now watch our hapless pilot moment by moment. This is the only inadvertent cloud flight with a GPS flight
recording of which I’m aware, so for the first time we have a numeric history along with the emotionally charged
recollection. All numeric data is “as is” from the SeeYou program.
3:33:50 PST 8 kt. CLIMB The edge of the cloud is coming overhead. This is good lift!
3:34:02 12 kt. CLIMB A few seconds later I hit the start of the strong lift and instinctively slow up.
3:34:50 17 kt. CLIMB The black cloudbase is coming up fast, better push over and head for the edge. I start perhaps
a 30 degree bank to the right.
3:35:32 28.6 kt. CLIMB “Oh, s**t, THIS is the core!” Faster than I can comprehend, I’m in the cloud. Unaware, I almost
immediately relax the controls which allowed a LEFT turn. I mistakenly believe I have the controls neutral in hopes of
coming out the side of the cloud. But….in a few seconds I realize I’m not coming out the side; it’s still dark grey and
worse, the wind noise along with the G force is building from the spiral dive. I know that if I pull back on the stick it will
only tighten the radius of the dive and the G forces. The little voice of JJ’s whispers in my ear “You’re going to die”.
3:36:02 9 kt. CLIMB Trying to ignore a fast rising panic, I recall a SOARING article describing a spiral dive recovery.
When in a spiral dive, do not pull back on the stick. Rather, neutralize the stick in pitch, then push to one side and see
if the G force lessens. If it does, then you guessed correctly and are leveling the wings. I push to the right and feel
reduced G. I then pulled back to slow the ship down.
3:36:38 15 kt. CLIMB The wind noise rapidly drops off to a moment of silence. Quick!, throw out the landing flaps, dive
brakes and gear to (hopefully) give me enough drag to get out the bottom of the cloud. I momentarily consider a spin,
but having never tried one in the 26E (intentional spins are not permitted), I pass. Unbeknownst to me, I’m pitched up
at 80° vertical. Without a horizon reference I had let the nose come up almost to the vertical. Suddenly, I’m falling
backwards, which only heightens the panic. “OK, I know, I shouldn’t be here in the first place, pulezzzzzeee can I
leave now?!!!!”. A loud “CLUNK” aft further spooks me, then a sudden negative G force pushes me towards the
canopy. “What the…..?!”
Now remember, I have no outside reference as it’s all dark grey. The clunk was the rudder shoved to one side during
the momentary tailslide, and the negative G force was from the sudden pitching over from nose high to nose down. An
already terrifying experience becomes worse.
14
3:36:44 6 kt. CLIMB The second spiral dive starts but at least all drag devices are deployed.
3:37:44 9 kt. DESCENT Airspeed is 110 knots and increasing. The landing flaps are red lined at 76 knots so I’m now
a test pilot. Seconds seem like hours. Reviewing the trace shows I only lost 360 feet in the past minute! Add to this an
irrational claustrophobic feeling that I need to unbuckle and get out of the cockpit.
3:38:08 38.9 kt. DESCENT
It’s getting lighter…I’m coming out the bottom! Now drop a bit more to make sure………
15
3:38:14 36 kt. DESCENT
Ok, gently pull out…….
3:38:38 5 kt. DESCENT
Back to level flight. thank you, Thank You, THANK YOU! The feeling of relief is overwhelming.
The 2.5 minutes in cloud seemed like an entire day.
At that one moment, I am the luckiest guy on earth. Almost four hours of soaring lie ahead to get back to Tonopah, but
that does not matter. I cannot believe I’m alive and intact. Later inspections showed no damage to the flaps. Had the
flaps failed I likely would not be here.
Since Then
Now you have the story, but why did it go this way?
-Poor situational awareness. I can clearly recall how distinctly higher and darker the cloudbase was compared to
surrounding clouds. Did that worry me? Of course not! Like the moth to the flame, it only served to push me closer.
Hey, and I knew that lift rates can be 15 knots or more near cloud base but I had not seen that kind of climb all day.
So when the vario passed through 12 knots, I stuck with it not seriously considering that it could DOUBLE in a few
seconds. I was complacent. The unusually fast RATE of increase should have alarmed me a few seconds earlier than
it did. Gavin Wills comments further:
“Climbing at 10 knots beneath the cloud, it will take 60 secs to gain the last 1000 feet to cloud base and climbing at 20
knots it will only 30 secs which will be a little more than a single turn to do 1000 feet! Therefore be cautious and if the
lift increases towards cloud base consider action 1000 feet below cloud and carry it out by 500 feet. Action well below
cloud is essential in strong lift as one does not always have a sense of rushing up to the cloud.”
Keep your eyes out of the cockpit. Situational awareness means actively looking for and analyzing details such as the
speed & direction of the cloud shadows, the vertical rate of cloudbase tendrils, other aircraft location, or the growth
rate & state of the overdevelopment. What is the situation ahead? What is the situation behind in case I have to
retreat? What is the safety margin I need at this moment? In one minute? How do I keep it? In a “Sudden Loss of
Margin”, you think you have enough speed/altitude/clearance until *poof*….it’s gone in a few seconds. And, if you
survive, you’ll look back and say, ”Well, I’ve done this for years and that’s never happened before! How rude!”
-Remain calm, be fair to yourself and keep thinking. Poor situational awareness got me into this, but luck and recalling
the article improved my chances. An extreme emotional state will bias your judgment. During the flight, don’t beat
yourself up over a slow speed and don’t get too confident when you hit super lift.
What about Next Time?
First, make sure there is no “next time”!
-Avoidance is the first line of defense. Keep a wider safety margin. Bob Semans shared his personal rule that as you
climb, keep a 45° angle between the horizon and the cloud edge. Thus, as you climb you move yourself closer to the
edge of the cloud. I now follow this rule.
-FAR 91.155. Between 10,000'and 18,000’ cloud clearance of 1,000’ below 1,000'above and 1 statute mile
horizontally. Not only does this help avoid “cloud suck” but in today's GPS world, IFR flights are direct with clearance
approval, staying clear of clouds is more important than ever. An IFR flight could pop out of a cloud and there is a
glider, up at cloudbase not realizing he is suppose to be 1,000'lower. This 1,000'clearance allows the margin to take
evasive action.
-Install a turn & bank. Low current drain instruments from PC Flight Systems, TruTrak Flight Systems, MGL Avionics,
etc. indicate turn direction. Some units are “instant on”, others require a warm up time. Turning the device on because
you’re worried about getting sucked into the cloud probably means that you are already in a very high risk position in
the first place. Some Garmin units have an EFIS display but GPS jamming can happen out in the Nevada area.
16
-Practice true blind flight in a glider. The instrument is virtually useless without practice. Practice what? Maintain your
instrument scan. Ignore your senses and act only on what you read. Sustained concentration for what may be a
seemingly long time. Know the lag of the instrument relative to your stick and rudder actions. Keep a constant
airspeed. And that’s only if you enter under ideal conditions like wings level and flying the instruments BEFORE you
enter the cloud. One instructor points out that it’s not just practicing steady blind flight, but handling upsets, unusual
attitude recovery and doing so on a monthly basis as this skill goes stale quickly. A two seat glider (not power plane)
with a safety pilot, preferably instructor, with the student’s canopy covered would be ideal. The only US pilot I know
with current instrument-only soaring experience is doing so on top of Navy training and weekly instrument flying.
17
-Benign Spiral. This is an option only if you know how to set it up AND have practiced this in your ship beforehand.
Some gliders may hold a benign spiral in calm air, but an upset may tip the glider into a spiral dive. Practice with an
instructor, then on your own on a calm blue day. The benign spiral is also appropriate for wave flying if you get caught
above a layer of cloud.
In conclusion, my hope is that this story fosters further discussion on flying overdevelopments, risk management and
emergency recovery. With more flights in the central Nevada and Great Basin area, those of us who choose to fly
there need to actively work on reducing the chances of another similar incident. I was lucky, but I used up most, if not
all, my lifetime supply of luck on this flight. I continue to fly the Great Basin with a greater respect for CB and a wider
safety margin than ever.
Beauty and the beast. Somewhere over central Nevada, July 2003
Further Reading
Little is written about inadvertent cloud flights of which I’m aware, so I can only offer the Carmichael article and the
sobering “Dunderhead’s Thunderhead” SOARING article of January, 1974. The reference to JJ’s little voice is from
John Sinclair’s excellent article “My Ph.D. in Fear” at: http://www.valleysoaring.net//story/jj/jj-fear.html
The British Sailplane & Gliding magazine has more material as cloud flying is permitted there.
Many thanks to my reviewers John Sinclair, Gordon Boettger, Kenny Price, Gavin Wills, Marc Ramsay, Cindy
Brickner, Bruce Tuncks, Eric Greenwell, Toodie Marshall and my wife Genese.
From the August 1973 SOARING Safety Corner:
"I am enclosing an account of a foolish early soaring experience," writes SSA Aerodynamics Chairman Bruce
Carmichael, "which I am willing to bet will be repeated by novices for years to come. This one includes a recipe on
how to save oneself from one's stupidity, so I offer it for what it is worth."
THE SPIRAL DIVE Outside it is gray. I am in cloud-and without blind flight instruments! No way to tell which direction
is up. The wind noise around the canopy has risen to a shriek. My 1-26 is in the dreaded spiral dive! The load factor
crushes me into the seat. I open my mouth to shout in fear, my jaw sagging under the acceleration. I taste the copper
18
of adrenalin pumped into my blood stream. I am not frightened-I am terrified! My scalp tingles as my hair stands on
end. Then, on the brink of stark unreasoning panic, suddenly, across the years. I hear the calm voice of my old flight
instructor. Ray Parker, speaking as clearly as if he were in the cockpit of the 1-26 sailplane with me...
Several years earlier a group of us were in a shop at Mississippi State College watching Ray, the world’s most
meticulous aircraft woodworker, building the sleek fuselage for his famous sailplane, the T-Bird. He had been warning
us to stay out of clouds unless we were qualified instrument pilots.
"If you should be foolish enough to get drawn into a cloud," he said. "there is a way to extract yourself. You will find
that in spite of knowing better, you will, in your fear, instinctively pull back on the stick to slow down as you would in
level flight. In the spiral dive, this tightens the turn and could increase the load factor until you pull the wings off. The
first thing to do is to neutralize the control stick and block it there with your other hand so that even in panic you will
not pull back....
I popped the stick forward and immediately the load factor diminished. The wind noise was still high. His voice came
again... "Now move the stick to one side. If you guess right, you will slow down, if you don't, push it to the other side."
I moved the stick to the right. The wind noise increased in pitch. Hastily I pushed it to the other side and the wind
noise diminished. "Now the excess kinetic energy from the spiral dive will throw you into an accelerated stall unless
you lower the nose."
I pushed forward on the stick as the wind noise went to zero until I was flying again, then back to neutral. Ray's next
instruction was to pull back and, as the speed slowly fell off, to put full stick and rudder into a spin entry. I had never
spun the 1-26 and was afraid it might not enter a good spin, in which case I would be completely disoriented. I was
hoping to fly out the side of the cloud but after a lengthy wait, with the altimeter winding up at a frightening rate, I once
more unwittingly slipped into a spiral dive. I was as frightened as before, but at least I was not in panic this time. I
went through the same recovery procedure, guessing right this time on the roll out, and once more tried to fly out the
side of the cloud.
How did I get into the cumulonimbus cloud? I had climbed up under the base of the cloud and found, to my delight, a
hollow inverted bowl caused by the huge central updraft. I circled up inside this bowl. It was a scene of immense
grandeur, with the earth clearly visible directly below my steeply banked turn and the vaporous cloud skirt hanging
down in all directions. Sounds were curiously muffled and resonant. I failed to notice how my rate of climb was
increasing until I was sucked into the cloud and visibility went to zero. What a difference between the clear white
boiling walls outside of the cloud and its dark damp interior! Many times I had cruised up the windward side of a cloud
and marveled at the beauty of a sun dog or the sailplane's shadow on the cloud ringed with a perfectly circular
rainbow. Now the light and spectacle were replaced with darkness and fear.
Before long I was in the third spiral dive. I promised myself that if I recovered from this one I would try to spin out. The
method worked again, and I gradually slowed down on recovery then kicked full left rudder and full back stick, locking
the 1-26 into a tight spin. After a few seconds I glanced at my altimeter. Again my hair stood on end and my heart
pounded: instead of rapidly descending, I was barely moving down! The updraft was so powerful that it was carrying
my 1-26 up almost as fast as it was spinning down. I had on summer clothes and no oxygen supply. Now I
remembered the stories of German sailplane pilots who were carried up in cloud after bailing out with parachutes.
They froze or died of hypoxia. I spun for what seemed an eternity. Later, fellow pilots asked me how fast I climbed in
the cloud, what speed I reached in the spiral dive, and what altitude I reached in the cloud. I have no idea. I felt I was
fighting for my life and have only impressions, not readings. It would probably be safe to say the rate of climb far
exceeded any I had encountered in clear air, and that the speed in the spiral far exceeded redline. Lord knows what
altitude I reached, but at least I did not pass out with hypoxia.
Finally I saw a road rotating below me and spun out of the bottom of the cloud. I held the spin for another 200 feet and
then recovered. Life seemed very sweet as I charged joyously out into the bright sunlight. I have not flown in cloud
since that day in the mid 50's. As so many pilots have done, I learned a lesson the hard way. Thanks to Ray Parker I
survived. Bless you, Ray.
Bruce Carmichael appended a warning to his story: "While Ray's recipe worked for me in a 1-26, it might not in a highperformance
ship. It is possible that in this case a pilot might accelerate to too high a speed in the initial spiral and
tear off the wings on reversing the bank during the resulting pull-up. The point is that a novice should not go into

On Feb 15, 4:30*pm, Sean Fidler wrote:
Please read Kempton Izuno's article (2005) "Into the Bowels of Darkness" on page 12 of the link below or in the following copied text.

http://www.pacificsoaring.org/westwi...2_WestWind.pdf

Into the Bowels of Darkness
© Kempton Izuno 2005 . All images by author.
Writing about soaring is easy with an achievement to share or a flight you are proud of. Enthusiasm and pride
are in great supply. But the flight(s) will come of which you are less than proud or downright embarrassed about.
Or worse, a flight from which you don’t return...
Since you are reading this article, you may presume I’ve not had one of the latter flights, but a few have been
close. Coming to the edge of disaster and living to learn from it is an incredible gift. In my case, a SOARING
Safety Corner article (see sidebar) read 30 years ago, is what saved my bacon after I was sucked into a cloud.
A Major Thank You to Bruce Carmichael for writing “The Spiral Dive”. May you, dear reader, never have this
experience.
Prelude
The forecast looked good for the central Nevada Great Basin area, so I planned for several days based out of
Tonopah, Nevada. Launching out of Hollister, California on June 17, 2003 in my ASH-26E, I slid across the
Central Valley and Sierra Nevada mountains, arriving at Tonopah in the late afternoon.
Part of the normal summer soaring routine in the Great Basin is working cumulonimbus clouds (CB). Now CB in
most parts of the world are BIG (50 miles or more across) and should be avoided. In Nevada, with the dry land,
dry air and high ground, there often can be small (3-4 miles across) CB cells with strong lift which do not block
your path. These “small” cells really speed up your flight and are the smallest CBs, but still hold significant risk.
13
Warning Signs
The forecast for June 18 showed scattered CB cells with bases around 17,000 ft, strong heating and a very light SW
wind. The first leg along the Monitor range is great, with strong lift and a light tailwind. Turning near Elko, I head
northwest following a line between towering cu to my north and overdevelopment (OD) to the south. Rain shafts are
becoming more widespread under the cu to the south, but this does not overly concern me. There’s a ways to go
before turning south and I expect that by that time, I’ll be west of the high ground and clear of the OD. Averaging
16,000 ft or so, the path ahead looks good.
FLASH! Lightning appears around the rain shafts to the south of me while the sky ahead is 40% cu, and to the far
north, along the Oregon border, it is dark with more overdevelopment. Confident I can make McDermitt, I press on. By
2pm however, it’s clear bases are dropping on track, so 20 miles short of McDermitt I turn south along the Santa Rosa
range. Lift continues to weaken producing a stair step descent as I aim to get back to the strong lift on the edge of the
OD area to the south.
By 3pm I’m down to 9,200 ft just north of Winnemucca having averaged only 50mph for the last hour. Frustrated at the
slow speed, I’m really hungry for the BIG lift to get going again. Now under the first of a number of dark based clouds,
I make three more climbs, each better than the last, reinforcing my decision to move back to the OD area. The lift is
good (15,000 ft bases with 6 knot climbs), but I think, there MUST be better lift nearby. Cloud cover is now 70+% with
rain shafts. Anxiously, I scan the sky for a “young” cloud to get my expected 12+ knot climb. The stage is now set. I’m
in high risk weather with a very impatient attitude.
Trouble…..BIG Trouble
Threading my way between rain shafts 25 miles ESE of Winnemucca, I spy “the” cloud. With a very dark and clearly
much higher base than the neighboring clouds, plus no rain shaft, I think, “YES!, this is the boomer I KNEW was
around here! Now it’s going to be easy!”. As with investing, right before things go bad, there is often overconfidence.
Let us now watch our hapless pilot moment by moment. This is the only inadvertent cloud flight with a GPS flight
recording of which I’m aware, so for the first time we have a numeric history along with the emotionally charged
recollection. All numeric data is “as is” from the SeeYou program.
3:33:50 PST 8 kt. CLIMB The edge of the cloud is coming overhead. This is good lift!
3:34:02 12 kt. CLIMB A few seconds later I hit the start of the strong lift and instinctively slow up.
3:34:50 17 kt. CLIMB The black cloudbase is coming up fast, better push over and head for the edge. I start perhaps
a 30 degree bank to the right.
3:35:32 28.6 kt. CLIMB “Oh, s**t, THIS is the core!” Faster than I can comprehend, I’m in the cloud. Unaware, I almost
immediately relax the controls which allowed a LEFT turn. I mistakenly believe I have the controls neutral in hopes of
coming out the side of the cloud. But….in a few seconds I realize I’m not coming out the side; it’s still dark grey and
worse, the wind noise along with the G force is building from the spiral dive. I know that if I pull back on the stick it will
only tighten the radius of the dive and the G forces. The little voice of JJ’s whispers in my ear “You’re going to die”.
3:36:02 9 kt. CLIMB Trying to ignore a fast rising panic, I recall a SOARING article describing a spiral dive recovery.
When in a spiral dive, do not pull back on the stick. Rather, neutralize the stick in pitch, then push to one side and see
if the G force lessens. If it does, then you guessed correctly and are leveling the wings. I push to the right and feel
reduced G. I then pulled back to slow the ship down.
3:36:38 15 kt. CLIMB The wind noise rapidly drops off to a moment of silence. Quick!, throw out the landing flaps, dive
brakes and gear to (hopefully) give me enough drag to get out the bottom of the cloud. I momentarily consider a spin,
but having never tried one in the 26E (intentional spins are not permitted), I pass. Unbeknownst to me, I’m pitched up
at 80° vertical. Without a horizon reference I had let the nose come up almost to the vertical. Suddenly, I’m falling
backwards, which only heightens the panic. “OK, I know, I shouldn’t be here in the first place, pulezzzzzeee can I
leave now?!!!!”. A loud “CLUNK” aft further spooks me, then a sudden negative G force pushes me towards the
canopy. “What the…..?!”
Now remember, I have no outside reference as it’s all dark grey. The clunk was the rudder shoved to one side during
the momentary tailslide, and the negative G force was from the sudden pitching over from nose high to nose down. An
already terrifying experience becomes worse.
14
3:36:44 6 kt. CLIMB The second spiral dive starts but at least all drag devices are deployed.
3:37:44 9 kt. DESCENT Airspeed is 110 knots and increasing. The landing flaps are red lined at 76 knots so I’m now
a test pilot. Seconds seem like hours. Reviewing the trace shows I only lost 360 feet in the past minute! Add to this an
irrational claustrophobic feeling that I need to unbuckle and get out of the cockpit.
3:38:08 38.9 kt. DESCENT
It’s getting lighter…I’m coming out the bottom! Now drop a bit more to make sure………
15
3:38:14 36 kt. DESCENT
Ok, gently pull out…….
3:38:38 5 kt. DESCENT
Back to level flight. thank you, Thank You, THANK YOU! The feeling of relief is overwhelming.
The 2.5 minutes in cloud seemed like an entire day.
At that one moment, I am the luckiest guy on earth. Almost four hours of soaring lie ahead to get back to Tonopah, but
that does not matter. I cannot believe I’m alive and intact. Later inspections showed no damage to the flaps. Had the
flaps failed I likely would not be here.
Since Then
Now you have the story, but why did it go this way?
-Poor situational awareness. I can clearly recall how distinctly higher and darker the cloudbase was compared to
surrounding clouds. Did that worry me? Of course not! Like the moth to the flame, it only served to push me closer.
Hey, and I knew that lift rates can be 15 knots or more near cloud base but I had not seen that kind of climb all day.
So when the vario passed through 12 knots, I stuck with it not seriously considering that it could DOUBLE in a few
seconds. I was complacent. The unusually fast RATE of increase should have alarmed me a few seconds earlier than
it did. Gavin Wills comments further:
“Climbing at 10 knots beneath the cloud, it will take 60 secs to gain the last 1000 feet to cloud base and climbing at 20
knots it will only 30 secs which will be a little more than a single turn to do 1000 feet! Therefore be cautious and if the
lift increases towards cloud base consider action 1000 feet below cloud and carry it out by 500 feet. Action well below
cloud is essential in strong lift as one does not always have a sense of rushing up to the cloud.”
Keep your eyes out of the cockpit. Situational awareness means actively looking for and analyzing details such as the
speed & direction of the cloud shadows, the vertical rate of cloudbase tendrils, other aircraft location, or the growth
rate & state of the overdevelopment. What is the situation ahead? What is the situation behind in case I have to
retreat? What is the safety margin I need at this moment? In one minute? How do I keep it? In a “Sudden Loss of
Margin”, you think you have enough speed/altitude/clearance until *poof*….it’s gone in a few seconds. And, if you
survive, you’ll look back and say, ”Well, I’ve done this for years and that’s never happened before! How rude!”
-Remain calm, be fair to yourself and keep thinking. Poor situational awareness got me into this, but luck and recalling
the article improved my chances. An extreme emotional state will bias your judgment. During the flight, don’t beat
yourself up over a slow speed and don’t get too confident when you hit super lift.
What about Next Time?
First, ...

read more »

Excellent stories with counter measures and morals Sean. Thank you.

The moral of the story is he should have had a butterfly vario?

--Stefan

On Wed, 15 Feb 2012 18:45:49 -0600, mike wrote:

On Feb 15, 4:30 pm, Sean Fidler wrote:
Please read Kempton Izuno's article (2005) "Into the Bowels of
Darkness" on page 12 of the link below or in the following copied text.

No. I guess it is that he should not have one. Brilliant.

Nor a smart phone. That dirty cheater...