Over Hill and Bog

First off - we had two days of sun and gorgeous weather in the Lake District. Honest truth. I’m told that never happens, so everything else this weekend was just a bonus.

We set off on the XLakes 2020 hike and fly race at a jog, smiled for the video cameras, and made a hasty transition to speed-walking (and a bit of trudging) we set off on the XLakes 2020 from the Flight Park in Braithwaite, Lake District, Cumbria. Into a landscape of 140+ peaks jutting off the side of northern England surrounded on ~2.5 sides by water and subject to more rain in a year than the Sahara will see in decades, centuries even (non fact-checked statement).

But I’m spry! And on a hot ship glider with extra get up and go! Hills and winds can’t scare me! And a circuit around the entire Lake District and all the peaks is only like 200-300km; that’s barely even two flights, right?

But Why!?

Quick note on scoring for context. The goal was to cross as many peaks (wainwrights) as possible in 2 days, hiking and flying our way into the annals of Cumbrian history. Wainwrights in the regions further away from base scored higher than those low hanging fruit around the flight park.

Failing Upwards

Quite predictably, bad-decision making trumped any advantage I may have had in the spry, two-lining department. By the end of day 1 I had trudged almost 25km, mostly uphill - all the down was flying. Unfortunately.

I swung to the west to start with, thinking that I had plenty of daylight to bag a few far out wainwrights and then once the day really turned on I’d go cross wind with plenty of light but do-able lift, ending up in the east to take advantage of the big east wind forecasted for day 2. I’d then soar up the central ridge in the morning, and then flee downwind like a graceful and highly motivated leaf straight to the Flight Park and glory.

And then the wind turned. Cross wind turned into head wind, and I radically underestimated the amount of boggy, mossy, and generally wet climbing required to execute my grand vision.

What Sea Breeze?

I still don’t really understand. Don’t get me wrong - I get that the sea air blows inland and it is cold and strong and kills thermals. I even sort of get that the Lake District inhales these salty gusts from some slightly nebulous centre point in the main ridge. And from far, far upwind I watched a convergence set up as a result. So my half-baked theory that a convergence is a fairy tale that pilots talk about over a few beers is pretty well destroyed.

But damned if I understand what that means for each local little valley, ridge, and wrinkle. All of which kicked my ass through day 1.

The flight track below tells the gory tale with all of its clambering and slowly increasing number of stops to commune with the local sheep. Two decent flights and a couple of desperate sledders later I found the ground for the last time that day and packed up my glider, resigned to walking in the valley and finding a pub for an exhausted beer and an assessing of sleeping options.

20 minutes after packing up I watched the most beautiful cloud street appear above me pointing directly off to the east. Had I just launched my last too early? I’m convinced that had I waited 30 minutes longer on that shaded launch I’d have been in the air for an hour at least - steadily crossing valley after valley, top landing, sleeping, and waking in just the right place the next day. I’ll never know if I am right or wrong about that.

So instead I took the consolation of a lamb pie and a couple of recovery pints at a friendly little pub. It’s hard out there for a pilot.

Day 2

With no legs left to speak of and a night camping by the lake I was moderately ready for one last big climb and a soaring flight home before the wind got too gnarly.

I followed the ravens up and up and launched out of some bushes directly into some ridge lift and ran that ridge north, tagging a few more wainwrights along the way before realising that my last connection point had zero landings on the windward side. Choosing a bit of a manageable-washing-machine route instead of do or die home-or-tree-landing-route, I wandered off into the valley and pointed myself right into the wind to land a short 3km or so walk from goal, strategically placing a shop with a mint Cornetto in the freezer between myself and my final destination.

Early to Goal

If only first in was the actual aim! Alas, I joined the organisers at the Flight Park, not first in for the day, but certainly among the early arrivals. In theory I could have headed off north and probably gotten a couple more peaks with the time I had left but at this point ground/home-suck had thoroughly set in and I opted instead to take the chance to meekly exit stage-south and start the long journey back to London and my own bed.

Less Talking, More Hike ‘N Flying!

This track has both day 1 and 2 squished together. Enjoy. Preferably at a higher playback speed so the long moments gasping for air and sticking feet into rivers for relief are less noticeable. Hit the plus button on the bottom left.

Final Thoughts

First off - this is an awesome event and I learned an incredible amount. For my first actual competition it was very challenging and the free form nature of it really humbled me. I have so far to go when it comes to understanding the weather and route planning.

I also once again fell in love with my glider. The Omega X-Alps 3, my first EN-D and my first two-liner - it launches predictably, handles well in turbulence, talks to me without scaring me, and makes me feel a sense of autonomy in the air, like I can Babe Ruth my way into the world, pointing at a peak or a crossing or a landing field and actually get there (most of the time). Part of this is improving as a pilot, and part of it is the glider, but damn it feels good.

Finally - I understand mud much better than I did before. Nearly getting sucked into a 2 metre diameter circle of wobbly, mossy, mucky bog will teach you some respect. I’ve never before watched the ground undulate under my step like a trampoline. Especially not on the top of a peak… isn’t the water supposed to run down the hill at some point?

Thanks to Jocky Sanderson, his wonderful family and the UK Air Sports and Flight Park team for feeding, encouraging, and sending us all off into the wilderness with trackers that definitely worked most of the time. I had a great time and can’t wait to do it again next year with a modicum more intelligence and knowledge and a lot more respect for the this beautiful landscape.