Florida Ridge - Day 6

I had to eat my words today. I told Brian and Rodger that we wouldn't fly after a strong storm blasted through at dawn. Well, I was wrong. The sky gradually cleared from the north and the predicted over-development and thunderstorms never materialized. Although still ill, I decided to fly and staged right behind the task committee (Davis, Kevin, and Jim) and listened in as they wrestled with the task selection. The original task to the south would have taken us directly into a area shaded with cirrus. Instead they decided to head cross-wind to the north into the cumulus field. It was a good call.

I launched early and got a sweet tow behind Rhett. After a good climb I headed north and formed a mutating gaggle that just wouldn't move even when we started sinking. I got on the radio and said it was either time to head back or push on. I finally got impatient (smart?) and moved on. Several other gliders left and we found a good climb just outside the start circle. I quickly climbed up and then headed back to nick the start circle and reset my start time. Linda got on the radio and wanted to know where I was going. I curtly answered "start circle". She quickly replied "No way!". I made the 1.5 mile round trip and got back into the same climb. Several tardy pilots were not so lucky and eventually headed back towards the airfield.

Linda topped out first and led out. She led me and a handful of pilots to a couple of more climbs before I caught up and left on a long glide across the blue. I flew the next portion of the 70+ mile course by myself racing hard. I made a strong turn east off course line to a cloud line that didn't really payoff that let Bruce and Jack catch up. We shared a climb or two before I headed more upwind while they proceeded along course line. While I had a buoyant glide with lots of little climbs, they pushed along with a mostly smooth glide. I came in over them south of the airport that was yesterday's goal. I should have kept pushing more upwind but I saw Bruce turning so I swung around and headed back east to join him. Bruce really didn't have a good climb and before long I lost my height advantage and soon was even a little below him.

About that time I noticed the texture of the air changed and I knew right away I was on the back side of a lake breeze front. Dang. I tried to push back upwind to where I was before but it was too late. I tried to work some broken lift but eventually landed in a field across from a fire tower in a light southeast breeze that was directly opposite the west northwest flow above. A few minutes later Bruce landed with me. Bruce and I started breaking down and then started seeing the "Spanish Armada" float over head. Bruce started counting. 2, 4, 5, 6, 8, 9 gliders. Crap. A while later Mark made a picture-perfect approach into our field followed by Olav.

I had mixed emotions about the flight. I was pleased with my aggressiveness and was very comfortable being out front by myself. However, I was upset that I didn't notice the lake breeze until it was too late; I should not have missed all the classic signs that were there for me to read. Bruce and I lost our 2nd and 3rd places and Kevin just about caught me in the race for the national title. Bjorn was the only flex wing to make goal.

The sport class had a good day running downwind to Clewiston. Patrick spent some quality time with the local law enforcement, Rodger reaped the benefits of landing at a golf course (manicured lawn and a bar), and Brian (who won the day) discovered the joys of long downwind glides and how black wet recently-burned sugar cane fields can be.