Inventing the Wheel

 Every 15 years or so, I take apart the mainwheel of a 2-33.  It happens so seldom that I have no memory of how the glider's undercarriage is designed when I attempt to do it again.

A few of us showed up yesterday, with the hope of flying, but the weather did not cooperate.  Instead, we did some maintenance.  Don and Greg worked on the Blanik interior, which is much improved, thanks to their efforts.  Tim decided to inspect the mainwheel bearings of the 2-33, and DaveB, Andy, and I helped on that project.

The first step is to place a log under the skid and hoist the tail onto a sawhorse perch.  This raises the wheel off the ground and allows it to be removed.  Once the wheel is out, the fun begins.

The wheel/brake assembly consists of at least 50 individual parts, all of which must be accounted for during the disassembly.  Tim and I tried hard to memorize how it came apart, so we could put it back together properly.  My concern for reversibility prevented me from properly appreciating the engineering that went into this wheel.  Until today.

 Most of those 50 parts were custom designed and manufactured by hand in limited batches.  No wonder gliders are expensive!  I can picture Ernie Schweizer spending a few weeks in 1966 with his engineering drawings, lathe and calipers - to come up with all those shafts, spacers, covers, housings and seals that comprise the wheel.  The bearings, shoes, and pads are probably from automotive stock, but designing a glider wheel around those parts must have been challenging, as well.  I'm sure the wheel was derived from the 2-22 wheel, vintage 1946.  I wonder what improvements were made twenty years later.

 Anyway, Tim and I greased the bearings and put it all back together (unsuccessfully, on the first attempt, oh well), and reinstalled the wheel just as it started to rain.

Glider maintenance, like flying, is challenging and satisfying.  Both give you an appreciation for those who made it possible in the first place.

OLC loses a sponsor

For many years, we've been posting our flight logs on OLC, the defacto repository for such files, worldwide.  While the website functions as a pretty good online logbook for individuals, its principal emphasis is on ranking and contests.  (The "C" stands for Contest, after all).

OLC did not invent the "Distributed Competition," which is the generic term for what they do.  The original distributed competition was probably the National Ladder in the UK, which has existed continuously since long before the internet.

OLC has spun off subgroups, which are distributed competitions with limited membership.  Examples include SSA, which sponsors an OLC subgroup for its members.  Another example, until recently, was DAeC, the German national aeroclub - the largest in the world.

There are formal and informal subgroups.  Our club is an informal subgroup.  The formal ones pay a fee to OLC to be featured on the website.  It isn't clear how many national aeroclubs sanction OLC to handle their distributed competitions for them.  It isn't even clear how many gliding countries claim to have national distributed competitions at all.  SSA is a formal subgroup, but SSA-OLC isn't an officially recognized national championship in USA.

On the other hand, some countries take distributed competitions just as seriously as their national centralized competitions.  Germany is one of them.  In Germany it is a big deal to be the winner of a national championship, either a competition held at a specific site, or the distributed competition.

Until a few months ago, the official distributed competition for Germany was OLC.  The Germans have now switched to a new one called WeGlide.  The reasons for dropping OLC have not been published, but one can speculate that OLC's receptiveness to suggested changes to the rules might have been a factor.

WeGlide is new, and it improves every day.  However, it must be stated that WeGlide's mission is to do a superior job of running a distributed competition, with special emphasis on doing that job for the German national aeroclub.  A secondary objective is to be a useful repository for clubs and sites, and at a much lower priority, it serves as a personal logbook for individual cross country pilots.

Both OLC and WeGlide are weak at meeting the needs of an individual whose only interest is to keep track of cross-country kilometers for himself and his friends.  (It is amusing to note that OLC has been adding features and relaxing security rules since they were abandoned by DAeC).

There are two other websites for the casual xc pilot to consider, crosscountry.aero, and Skylines.  They have been around for a while, but neither one has crossed over the line into worldwide popularity.  They are both better than the other two for keeping track of your individual achievements.

All four websites have advantages and disadvantages.  In the broadest terms, OLC and WeGlide are aimed at competitive people, while crosscountry.aero and Skylines are for the rest of us.  Also, all four of them are mediocre in terms of detailed flight analysis.  If you want to analyze your flight with every conceivable statistic, you should be using a standalone flight evaluation program, like SeeYou or StrePla.

The difficult question, of course, is which of the four online portals should we use?  I am not an expert at any of them, so I plan to use all of them until I figure out what I want.  It's sort of a pain to upload every flight four times, but I am willing to do that.  It would be nice if each of them would forward your flight log file to the other three, but that happens in only one instance:  Skylines forwards to WeGlide.  So make that three uploads for every flight.  I can handle that.

In a future post, I will describe the pros and cons of each of the four websites.

I guess I'll have to buy the White Album again

There's news from FAA for those of us seeking pilot certificates or additional ratings.

The FAA branch responsible for testing has just published an outline of updates and near-term changes in the Knowledge and Practical Tests and associated publications:

What's New and Upcoming in Airman Testing

We learn from this handy reference that:

• There will be new Knowledge Test questions.
• There is a new way to schedule Knowledge Tests.
• There is a new source of practice tests.
• there are (or soon will be) new versions of
  
  
  • Pilot's Handbook of Aeronautical Knowledge
  • Aviation Instructor Handbook
  • Risk Management Handbook
  • Airplane Flying Handbook
  
  
• There are no more "students."  We're all "learners" now.
• There are no more "cockpits."  Now the proper term is "flight deck."
• If you ain't got an FTN, you ain't nobody.

As for the practical side of things, you may recall that FAA plans to replace the Practical Test Standards (PTS) with the more modern Airman Certification Standards (ACS), one category at a time.  So far they have done this for airplanes and drones.  Next on the priority list are helicopters and balloons.  Gliders aren't even mentioned, so for now at least, we have the PTS.

PMSC Learners who are about to buy an FAA publication, make sure you get the latest edition!

I bought my first aviation handbook in 1965, and I still have it.

I suppose it's time to get the update.

Teaching new tricks

One of the things I like to do is to review in my mind how flight instruction has changed over the years.

In these modern times, we teach our students things that, in the old days, our instructors never heard of.  It is interesting to me that it isn’t just the pilots who learn from experience – the state of the art of flight instruction has evolved as well.  “Best instructional practices” have come a long way since I learned to fly fifty years ago.

A troubling side effect of this evolution is that we old guys sometimes downplay or ignore hazards that have been discovered since we became instructors ourselves.  “It wasn’t part of my training, so it can’t be that important.”

A good example of this is towplane upsets.  We were taught to verify that the rope was disconnected before turning, but that was about it.  My instructors never mentioned anything about suddenly yanking the towplane’s tail upwards, or the factors that might lead to this happening.  Consequently, my attitude for many years was a casual “stay in position and nothing will go wrong,” and as a young CFI, I began transferring this attitude to my students.

Then two things happened.

First we started hearing about towplane upsets in the UK.  Some of these were fatal for the towpilot.  The initial reaction of the British Gliding Association was to place an urgent emphasis on doing a better job of teaching the transition from winch launch to aerotow.  Our initial reaction was nothing to be proud of – we dismissed the problem as something that occurs only in foreign lands where primary training is by winch launch.

The second thing that happened is that I became a towpilot.  I would like to say that this caused me to lose my casual attitude, but I cannot.  I tell myself to think of the release handle every time I advance the throttle for takeoff, but I still fail to do this every time.  Old casual attitudes die hard, I guess.

We need to understand that this is much more than a problem of transitioning from winch launch to aerotow.  There are many contributing factors:  short ropes, light towplanes, CG hooks on the glider, upside down hooks on the towplane, etc.  All of us - towpilots and glider pilots – need to be experts on this subject.

Fortunately, the BGA has stayed on the case.  Their research on this is the best in the world.  Start reading HERE.  Follow the links.  Watch the video clips.

If, due to my former casual attitude, I forget to emphasize towplane upsets in my conversations with you on the airfield, remind me that it’s important.  Thanks.

Rick preparing Concordia

Posted by Tim

Postcard from D.B. Crewper

Picture of Concordia on tow in Poland today from DB Crewper (AKA Dick Butler's Crew Person, AKA Rick).

Is that a TriPacer?

Tim

Delivering Task Sheets to the grid

Thrill ride

I don’t remember too much about my first glider ride, but I do remember that it was a thrilling, slightly overwhelming experience.

Then, as now, they assigned one of the more experienced pilots in the club to give the introductory lessons. Since then, I have become one of those pilots. I enjoy giving rides, but I confess that I am more interested in flying the single seater than in pointing out the local sights to tourists in the two-seat trainer. It gets a bit old after a while.

The single seat glider was ready to fly yesterday, and I was having these selfish thoughts when I was approached by one of the spectators at the field.

"We were hoping my father could get a ride today."

I was trying to think of a more polite version of "Sure, go ask someone else" when she continued, "He’s 96." That got my attention!

A moment later, I was shaking hands with an amazing gentleman named Lafayette Noda, and I decided that getting him up in a glider on this fine June day would be my highest priority. I finally realized that most of the spectators standing around were his friends and family members, and that they had all walked across the airfield to cheer him on.

"Are you really 96?" I asked tactlessly.

"At present, yes," he replied. An answer delivered with a big smile and scientific precision. It turns out that he actually is a scientist, but I didn’t learn that until later.

With surprisingly little assistance from his family and his growing coterie of glider pilot fans, Lafayette clambered into the front seat of our club trainer. Here’s a picture of Greg helping him with his seat belt.


Before takeoff, we explained a little about the glider’s instruments and controls. Sometimes we had to repeat ourselves because Lafayette’s hearing has faded a little in the past 96 years. I told him that he might have to move his left knee out of the way of the airbrake handle when it came time to land.

We took off, and we both watched the towplane during the climb to 3000 feet. It was impossible to communicate over the air noise at 65 mph, but I was hopeful that we would be able to talk when we slowed down following the release from tow.

I was unsure of what to expect in terms of Lafayette’s sense of balance and orientation in this new three-dimensional environment. He was looking left and right, taking in the sights. You’re not supposed to swing your head around like that - but he was smiling the whole time. I figured he was feeling fine.

Off tow, I found that by loosening my shoulder straps and leaning forward a bit, I could indeed communicate with my passenger. We flew into a patch of rising air, and I described to him the indications on the instruments. We watched another glider fly by underneath us, and Lafayette concluded, correctly, "He’s going down."

In fact, the other glider was entering the landing pattern ahead of us. We found some more rising air and circled in it, climbing 500 feet while waiting for our turn to land. Finally, I reached for my airbrake handle and tapped him on the knee with the other handle. He moved his leg out of the way and said, "OK, we’re landing now."

Back on the ground, we shook hands, posed for pictures, and congratulated ourselves for a few minutes before I realized that I never taught Lafayette how to unbuckle his harness. He was trapped in the cockpit, still smiling good-naturedly.

Before he was a glider pilot, Dr. Lafayette Noda, Emeritus Professor of Biochemistry at Dartmouth Medical School, was a blueberry and Christmas tree farmer. Before that, he was chairman of the Biochemistry Department at the medical school. Before that, he established a non-profit fund to provide scholarships to Asian-American students. Before that, he was a research biochemist. Before that, he was wrongly imprisoned by his own government. You can read about him here and here and here and here.

Dr. Noda, who has studied the natural world for so long, knows how to enjoy it, too. It was a thrill for me to introduce him to our solar powered sport.

Update: Dr. Noda passed away on February 9, 2013. The Noda family has published an obituary.

723 km

Our own Rick Sheppe, of course! Weekday slacking, Southern style.

Well done, Rick.

Blogshift

I've been asked to officiate at another gliding contest, and I'm headed to New Mexico tomorrow.

You'll just have to talk amongst yourselves until I get back, on July 12.

I have started another blog, in case you want to read about the contest.

Solstice

Today will be 15 hours 28 minutes long. I hope you enjoy it.

I'm going flying.

First Slacker

It must be vacation week.

Andy, Andy, Paul N, Tony, Tim, Kevin, Evan, Jason and Matt are out of town. Everyone else seems to be stuck at work or stranded by a volcano. I think I'll go flying.

Because I can.

Night Flying at Leszno

I recently came across this story, from my 2003 trip to Poland:

After three and a half weeks in Poland, I finally got to go flying. Although I wasn’t able to stay up very long, the flight represented a lot of “firsts” for me. It was my first Wilga tow, my first Bocian flight and my first lesson in a language other than English.

Oh yes, it was also my first flight at night.

We all have stories about landing a little after sunset, but this was definitely a different experience. Night glider flying is fairly common in Poland, and the Leszno Gliding School had no trouble booking introductory lessons in the two-seater Bocian throughout the contest. Flying began every night at 9.30pm and ended around 3am.

When my turn came, the ground crew helped me strap in and explained that my instructor knew a few words of German, but no English. My German vocabulary is slightly larger than my Polish vocabulary, which is non-existent. So, Wir sprechen Deutsch.

Both the towplane and glider had position lights, of course, but the secret to success in this operation is a bright blue LED flashlight that the instructor carries. When the instructor wants to make a point, he shines a narrow beam of light on one of the instruments on the student’s panel, while describing what is wrong with the reading on that particular instrument. The light, which is on only briefly, completely blinds the front seat pilot. Then it goes out, and it’s a race between recovery of night vision and the fading of the fluorescent needles on the instrument.

I don’t remember the take-off, but the tow was quite interesting. As long as there was a little bit of apparent motion of the Wilga, it was easy to keep station. However, if the towplane ever stopped moving in front of me, its relatively dim lights disappeared against the background lights of downtown Leszno. If you think about it, this problem is self-correcting.

Off tow, flying around was fairly straightforward. Occasionally there would be a blue flash accompanied by the word “achtsig” from the back seat. For a few seconds, the only visible object in the world would be a fuzzy airspeed needle. I never was able to read the numbers on that dial.

Eventually, I heard “zwei hunnert” a couple of times, and I knew that the altimeter was about to be illuminated. Sure enough, the altimeter exploded in blue and my brain was left with the image of the big hand pointing to a 2.

At 200 meters you enter the pattern. The instructor took over on base leg and made a beautiful approach and landing. I have no idea what he was using as a visual reference for the flare. We rolled right up to the launch point, next to a kerosene-fuelled smokepot.

I got out, shook hands with my instructor, and decided that I’ll stick to day flying from now on.

Airport scales

What is it about eccentric museum owners and dinosaurs?

Here's the latest on the growing pile of lumber at the airport, courtesy of the Valley News (click to enlarge):


Obviously, the museum owner was not influenced very much by our poll.

Let's break a few of these

The New Hampshire and Vermont state soaring records are up to date on the SSA website. Our club is represented by Kevin, Nancy, Mike and Steve. Let's add to the list this season.

Annual Meeting February 13

I wasn't there, so I have no official report. I heard a rumor that there was a shakeup in the Board of Directors. I'll await publication of the minutes, like the rest of the rank-and-file.

Safari news

Friend-of-the-club Roy B is back in Bloemfontein. He reports that the season is winding down and the foreigners are packing up to go home. He sends this picture as an illustration of how tough the conditions are getting. His email address is in his blog, in case you want to send him a note of sympathy.

We're still fixing

This past weekend Andy, Andy and Tim began clearing out the hangar we'll be using to work on gliders this winter. They're optimistic about getting the heating system working soon, and then they'll be expecting a lot of volunteers to show up.

We're still flying

After a few mechanical missteps, we now have three airplanes on skis, ready to fly. Andy, Tim, and Rick are standing by for suitable flying weather and volunteer shoveler-pusher-passengers.

Solstice

On the darkest day of the year, 39 of us slid down the LumRuss driveway to arrive at an island of warmth, light, and hospitality. We gathered for the perennially outstanding feast known as Julbord – Swedish for “I dream of July.” And what a feast! While it is a cliché to assert once again that Judy outdid herself, and despite the logical certainty that at some point it becomes impossible to make that assertion, Judy outdid herself. The meal featured sculpted delicacies ranging from spherical to orthogonal, with origami in between. We enjoyed melon balls, meatballs, poached potatoes, spiral cut ham, folded smoked salmon, herring, various cheeses and flat breads, all of which have exotic-sounding Swedish names that Hans can pronounce, but have been forgotten by this writer. I do remember that Hans pronounced the entire presentation flawlessly authentic. Just when we thought we could eat no more, our indefatigable hostess unveiled a fancy tablefull of cakes, cheesecakes and coffees. If you made the mistake of not attending, you have my condolences. The way I see it, the only acceptable excuse for missing the LumRuss Julbord is to be out flying somewhere in New Zealand. Today our hemisphere turns back toward the sun. That thought goes a long way toward fending off cabin fever, but not as far as the sight of so many friends gathered to celebrate the season.