Several hundred k… and bust!
A year in the life of XC hound Helen Gant
2010. The Derbyshire XC season kicks off in January for me with a hop over the back on my little Mac Magus XC. A very short flight but one of the most beautiful ever. Remnants of snowdrifts stripe the hills and swirling clouds steal the view of the landing fields. A few of us push out over the buoyant wisps, taking our “Brocken spectres” for the ride.
Further upwind, a pilot on a Sigma pops up like a cork. I head to where he is, park myself going upwards and find myself in orbit with gobsmacking views everywhere. Up to base in no time… past base… up to the next base. Then I just sit there in the blue, in gloriously smooth air, with a sea of cloud to the south and breathtaking views north across the reservoirs and over the moors. Isn’t flying amazing?
How often do you get the chance to go exploring downwind in winter? I push as far along the wave bar as I can and scoot off to see if there’s half a chance of connecting with the next one… and fail, landing grinning in the winter sunshine.
February is wintry and miserable, but spring arrives suddenly on March 1st. I’m still parking as fellow Derbyshire pilot Dave Broxholme gets an early climb out. I struggle for a while to get up as a handful of Pennini (Pennine club pilots) and Derbyshire’s Jean-Luc Boudin push way out in front, playing the cloudstreet. Finally, approaching the low base, I head to the sunny edge of the cloud and Niviuk UK’s Barney Woodhead appears from behind a blob. We push on together to the next cloud.
We loiter over Curbar searching for the next climb. Some smoke near Froggatt goes a bit mental so I push forward, and am rewarded with a lovely climb and Nigel Holliday to fly with for the rest of the trip. Chesterfield appears but I don’t want to land yet. Phew, another climb. This one’s hard work, but Nigel joins me and finds the real core and we’re off again. We stay over the sunny patches and… woohoo! another climb.
A couple of other pilots catch me up. There’s a huge forest coming up and it’s decision time. I don’t fancy the landing options downwind and push southeast through a snow flurry, passing the forest to put myself back in the sunshine. I’m hoping a line of trees behind a big black quarry thing might kick another climb off. I get a blip and turn to find Daveyboy 360-ing upwind of me.
We both scrabble around optimistically, but rotor off the trees sabotages our attempts to get up. Davey picks a field to land in and I persevere in zeros for a few more fields - there’s something here. There’s a clay pigeon shoot going on downwind of me and every time I do a 360 someone shoots, which makes me jump. OK. Game over. I admit defeat and land. But wow! Over 50k on March 1st!
Things settle down in mid March. A day after my annual flop to the donkey village from Lords, trying to crosswind round the airspace, I toddle off west from the Peaks. I get slightly low after 5km and consider landing at the school where I work. But that would be a waste, and it’s quite exhilarating scooting low over the ground on a windy day.
I head for a ridge in the sunshine and spot my friend Graham Cummins coming to join me. Another climb frees us from the Chapel valley and we approach Shining Tor from an angle I’ve never seen before.
A snarly thermal from a gully behind Shining works, but I’ve never been so low, scooting over a hill in strong wind. Then Graham connects with something better just over the hill. If I don’t thermal properly I’ll be heading straight for the rotor, but somehow I’m up and circling. But we’re heading straight for airspace so that’s it, game over. I land in a gale, barely able to grab enough wing to stuff it back in the bag. Graham winds off a hundred feet to land with me. Hmm… don’t push it next time!
Then March started to warm up. Flying at Eyam Edge was a struggle, but after an hour of trying to find a useable climb we found a thermal. Our little gaggle climbed, pushed forwards, topped up and stuck with it over the back of the moor. We piffled around in zeroes and then pushed off in front of the gaggle to find another climb. There were dribs and drabs off Stanage, and then the house thermal by the reservoirs finally gave me a proper climb and the others joined me.
Good sociable flying, all helping each other find the proper core, a real pleasure. Trying to push upwind inefficiently to a forming cloud nearly cost me the flight, but Jason Bolland, another Derbyshire friend, found another climb and up we all went again.
We all split up, but later I looked back upwind and there’s Ruth Churchill-Dower! Brilliant, we’re all still going. Downwind the odd blob was still forming. Niviuk’s Phil Colbert gets low and doesn’t make it to my factory-roof thermal, and then I lose it too. We meet up and talk rubbish for hours waiting for Rhona, a complete star who has agreed to come and squish five people and four wings into a Ford Focus. Another lovely day.
Then there is a technical flight from Lords Seat, trying to dodge East Midlands airspace over some of the most beautiful, squiggly terrain in the Peaks. A jammy low save gets me back up and I force my way west round the airspace to manage my first-ever respectable flight from Lords. Then a jolly 60+ km with Malcolm Davies on a breezy Long Mynd day, watching a beautiful cloud street disappearing off into airspace.
And then April 10th, a Lakes day with the Niviuk boys. They spend a lot of time boating out in front of the hill till I run out of patience and shoot off over the back. I intend to go for a sunny ridge into wind, but then change my plan and aim for where a good cloud is forming. This is a major turning point of my year and my XC flying. I’ve been so busy looking at ground sources that it’s distracted me from the far easier job of reading the sky. Flying the clouds suddenly seems easy compared to the bottom-grovelling I’ve practised for years!
Barney Woodhead's a climb behind and goes for my sunny ridge into wind. The sky shuts off just as he makes it across onto Barton Fell, but patience pays off, the sun eventually returns and we escape over the back… and follow the clouds downwind. A massive moor - walkout of the year in prospect - and then a booming climb to base. And here come the Howgills!
I can’t believe it, I’m out of the Lakes. North of the Howgills is a good sky but I’m scared of getting blown into some windy valley with no escape. Over the Howgills the sky is poor but my street is decaying. I jump to a soarable windward slope and wait till the sky changes, a poor decision that puts me on the ground to watch Barney pass in orbit, just in time for a gorgeous cloud street to develop in front of him.
Then there’s an epic Mynd day. A whole load of people fly a long way and I manage the first ton I’ve done for years, helped along the last 40km by Martin Knight, and Phil and Barney of Niviuk, to land at the same village where I completed my first-ever ton. It takes over seven hours and we’re pretty pleased with ourselves when we land. My high point is a low save at 90km as I watch a hot air balloon slowly inflating in a field. At 5.30 I squeeze every last breath out of the last real thermal of the day, back up to the cloud motorway at around 90km, and we get another hour out of the day. What kind of year is this? It’s only April!
Then a more challenging Lords day over my favourite squiggly terrain, attempting to squeeze east of East Midlands airspace till I bottle it and head west, just in time to confuse Andy Wallis into heading east. At 5,000ft over Alton Towers, something about the people hurtling around below me screaming gives me vertigo. The recent words of Jean-Luc and Wally about staying high at 2:30 are in my ears… but I couldn’t get down if I tried. I finally make Cannock, 70-odd km, very cold and very pleased.
It gets even sillier. It’s school holiday and I’m properly free. When the forecast suggests snowy Scottish highland flying might be fun, up I go. Simon (my partner) and I battle with the snow chains and slog our way up the Tarmachan, but the air on take-off doesn’t feel right to me and we both slog back down.
Then we get a glorious day flying a ridge that’s always tempted me. A whopping great walk-up, watching snow showers burst from the clouds towards Glencoe, pays off as we whoosh up over zebra slopes and are overwhelmed by powerful, smooth thermals and some of the most incredible scenery in Britain. Wow! Local pilot Dave Thomson is playing out and shouts across, “Where are we going to go?” It hasn’t even crossed my mind to try and score points today but I get some for a flat triangle, even landing back at the car to go retrieving.
Then a Lords XC day, a Mynd XC day and a Corndon XC day. I am enjoying life as a flying bum and want these school holidays to go on forever.
Then the best Bradwell day for years, again with the Niviuk boys, joyriding out of Derbyshire into Lincolnshire with half the Derbyshire pilots. The group splits into two; Phil fly-guides our gaggle from climb to climb and we drift downwind to where the other group is loitering. As we catch them it seems like the whole sky is full of people I like, a nice moment.
The giant gaggle splits again and glides off in search of more lift. A few unlucky pilots get decked along the way. At around 80km I get away with a massive mistake, trying to push back upwind to rejoin the last remaining gaggle, and scrabble underneath them for the rest of the flight. Three of us land close together and scrounge an excellent lift back. Another ton!
Then a short but memorable XC in May off a hill near Chesterfield. The sky was good as I was driving there but developing fast. I landed when I could see how alarmingly quickly the dark sky was growing, and was glad to be on the ground for once. Note to self: don’t push it. The rest of May and June are almost boring in comparison: a bit of beautiful scenic Lakes pleasure flying and a handful of lovely 50km flights that any other year would have been magic.
The first of the two that will sit in my memory for a long time is an eye-opening late flight off Ecton in Derbyshire. I’ve tried all day to get away, Gordon Bishop has joined me later, and we’ve both spent hours trying to get up. We are just about ready to give up at 5pm - I’ve not even bothered with my flying suit - and we get a climb. I leave way too low and lose the thermal, down to 200ft and almost landing back at the car before a lee-sider whisks me up to base in my shorts and down jacket.
This climb backs up what the Bish has told me about the climbs being better one ridge further back than Ecton, and changes my attitude to leaving the hill too low for a lot of the rest of the year. There are beautiful clouds to go for, but after about three of them I realise they’re not working. I gamble on a rippling pond and some flapping flags that look like they’re pointing at a thermal out in the blue. I don’t deserve it for flying away from the good sky but it pays off. I keep going till I run out of day and landing options.
The second truly memorable flight is a sweet little adventure exploring the Ladybower reservoirs. I reached the first steep part of the ridge too low and had to force my way round the corner to get into wind. I’d already had two jammy low saves at Eyam and Bradwell and the chance of a third was pretty slim. But I scratched around trying to soar a slope there, spending half an hour just trying to stay up. Skimming close to the ground was reliable but only ever gave me enough height to stay airborne. Scooting across a gully onto the next bit of rockery gave me some exciting rough air, and occasionally strong climbs that seemed to fizzle as soon as I got just behind the front of the hill.
After a while I got impatient. I thought if I got 200ft again I’d try going round the corner, and found consistent lift and a big fat tailwind. Hmmm. Nice to fly with loads of bog birds - curlews and snipes and that sort of stuff - and absolutely lovely scenery. I was now approaching rocks on the ridge I’d spotted from 5,000ft… and here we go. One of those lovely solid climbs, up and up and up over miles of moorland, further and further away from the big walkout. Just like the Ecton day: leaving the hill way too low but somehow getting up and away. Gobsmacking views over all the reservoirs: Derwent, Ladybower, Strines, Bradfield. This is what it’s all about, hanging on by a thread to a bit of air that takes you somewhere, seeing familiar things from a completely different perspective.
July 3rd was an insanely windy day at Bradwell. Only Davey (Broxholme) and a couple of Pennini in the air, the wind 45 degrees off the hill. It took all of about 50 seconds for my glider to find a climb and hurtle away over the back, and drifting backwards over Bamford Edge turned a sled ride into a joy ride. Davey and I escaped from the Peaks before it got even windier and headed up into the Upton Corridor for another 50k for me, more for Davey.
School hols again. I’m free but the forecast is rubbish. Then suddenly another ton day turns up! RASP has looked promising for days, but the closer it gets the more unlikely it seems. At Eyam the sky’s grey and unpromising, although there are cumulus below the top cover. As I climb out I see the sky opening up upwind, then doodle my way up through the Upton Corridor, briefly switching my Aware airspace gadget on to check. I try to fly away from the airspace and find some lovely lift, and here comes the Humber. There’s a fast-forming and fast-decaying street from the power stations to the hills in the distance. The vario ticks over a ton again - I can’t believe it! The edge of the yellow fields in the distance must be the coast, but then my sky dies to nothing and I’m on the floor again.
Late August. The gloomy weather drags on, the end of the holidays are approaching and I’m just starting to get despondent about the end of summer, when a Llangollen day is forecast. Take-off is littered with Derbyshire, Pennine and Mynd pilots, with a few locals. The day’s already good and even red streamers are in orbit. I’m trying a Niviuk Peak out of curiosity. I get up easily, boat around in the cloudless sky for a while, then get low.
It’s difficult for ages and I think I’ve blown it, but eventually I get back up and see Jean-Luc make a bold downwind dash followed by a second climb. I’m impatient to get away before the encroaching sea breeze wins, head downwind and find a second climb. The gaggle from the hill all come to join me and off we go.
Slow climbs take us the first 20k in around an hour. It’s a real pleasure to fly with a sociable and competent swarm of Niviuks. We take it in turns to be top of the stack, first in the next climb or scraping our way up from low down, or pimping along at the back. It’s mega-slow but fun for the first 40 - 50km, but the air’s really clear and we have beautiful views across to Snowdonia and the Shropshire hills.
After Welshpool the climbs and sky improve and it feels like a big day might be on. Mark Wilson and Wally head off downwind, then Barney scoots off up a cloud street towards the Mynd. Geoff Minshull and I carry on downwind. There are some stepping-stone cumulus in front of me offering a way to the next good patch of sky, but when I head for them I’m on my own. At Bache the clouds fizzle completely and I tuck in tight to the ridge and try to soar a bowl. I’m in zeroes at ridge height, just occasionally high enough to 360 over the trees. Then, just as Geoff flies over my head at base, a patch of sun strokes the nose of the spur in front of me and tickles a thermal out of it.
Chuffed with my patience, I’m circling over beautiful hills, floating along just below the clouds with the late sun twinkling on the rivers, highlighting the vivid green valleys… this is where I belong. Then two kites show me a stonking thermal and I carry on under a weak street towards Hay Bluff. Leaving the high ground I have two options - a bitty cloud to my left or a better cloud further away to my right. But the bitty cloud gives me nothing and the better cloud is out of reach, and I’m down… another ton. Unbelievable! I’ve been in the air for a ridiculous seven hours and 53 minutes, probably my longest time in the air ever.
The next day I’m sunburnt to a beetroot and probably too tired to fly sensibly. So I fly unsensibly and dangle along in a daze until Sheffield, where I make some good decisions to crosswind round the RHADS airspace. I leave the others and continue crosswinding out of curiosity, even though there’s a perfectly good corridor to go through. It’s so easy crosswinding for once that I carry on the same way past Lincoln and somehow wangle 99.9km!
Autumn arrives with a bang. It’s flyable, I’m on take-off, my flying suit’s in the car. I run down Mam Tor to get it and fall flat, fracturing my thumb. I convince myself it will be OK and fly badly - the first XC opportunity I’ve wasted for months. After convincing myself it will hurt less after a beer… or two… and sleeping on it, I sheepishly take myself into A&E. After they’ve strapped it up I drive to Parlick and have a delightful hop over the purple moors of my early flying career and chase buzzards up to Caton near Lancaster. Sweet.
Then I’m back on my Magus XC. It’s so nice to be back on my little Mac. It’s such fun to fly, turning is so easy, and it makes me grin constantly as it takes me for a short hop from Eyam to near Barnsley with this stupid pot on!
What an outstanding year. This is only the edited highlights of about half of the flights I’ve had. I’m amazed at the number of brilliant people who’ve retrieved me this year; I owe pretty much every pilot in Derbyshire and the Pennines a retrieve! Thanks everyone. Thanks also to Mac for all their support - my Magus XC has given me an amazing year of adventures.
Helen finished 8th in last year’s XC league with 629km, including four 100km+ flights.
A year in the life of XC hound Helen Gant
2010. The Derbyshire XC season kicks off in January for me with a hop over the back on my little Mac Magus XC. A very short flight but one of the most beautiful ever. Remnants of snowdrifts stripe the hills and swirling clouds steal the view of the landing fields. A few of us push out over the buoyant wisps, taking our “Brocken spectres” for the ride.
Further upwind, a pilot on a Sigma pops up like a cork. I head to where he is, park myself going upwards and find myself in orbit with gobsmacking views everywhere. Up to base in no time… past base… up to the next base. Then I just sit there in the blue, in gloriously smooth air, with a sea of cloud to the south and breathtaking views north across the reservoirs and over the moors. Isn’t flying amazing?
How often do you get the chance to go exploring downwind in winter? I push as far along the wave bar as I can and scoot off to see if there’s half a chance of connecting with the next one… and fail, landing grinning in the winter sunshine.
February is wintry and miserable, but spring arrives suddenly on March 1st. I’m still parking as fellow Derbyshire pilot Dave Broxholme gets an early climb out. I struggle for a while to get up as a handful of Pennini (Pennine club pilots) and Derbyshire’s Jean-Luc Boudin push way out in front, playing the cloudstreet. Finally, approaching the low base, I head to the sunny edge of the cloud and Niviuk UK’s Barney Woodhead appears from behind a blob. We push on together to the next cloud.
We loiter over Curbar searching for the next climb. Some smoke near Froggatt goes a bit mental so I push forward, and am rewarded with a lovely climb and Nigel Holliday to fly with for the rest of the trip. Chesterfield appears but I don’t want to land yet. Phew, another climb. This one’s hard work, but Nigel joins me and finds the real core and we’re off again. We stay over the sunny patches and… woohoo! another climb.
A couple of other pilots catch me up. There’s a huge forest coming up and it’s decision time. I don’t fancy the landing options downwind and push southeast through a snow flurry, passing the forest to put myself back in the sunshine. I’m hoping a line of trees behind a big black quarry thing might kick another climb off. I get a blip and turn to find Daveyboy 360-ing upwind of me.
We both scrabble around optimistically, but rotor off the trees sabotages our attempts to get up. Davey picks a field to land in and I persevere in zeros for a few more fields - there’s something here. There’s a clay pigeon shoot going on downwind of me and every time I do a 360 someone shoots, which makes me jump. OK. Game over. I admit defeat and land. But wow! Over 50k on March 1st!
Things settle down in mid March. A day after my annual flop to the donkey village from Lords, trying to crosswind round the airspace, I toddle off west from the Peaks. I get slightly low after 5km and consider landing at the school where I work. But that would be a waste, and it’s quite exhilarating scooting low over the ground on a windy day.
I head for a ridge in the sunshine and spot my friend Graham Cummins coming to join me. Another climb frees us from the Chapel valley and we approach Shining Tor from an angle I’ve never seen before.
A snarly thermal from a gully behind Shining works, but I’ve never been so low, scooting over a hill in strong wind. Then Graham connects with something better just over the hill. If I don’t thermal properly I’ll be heading straight for the rotor, but somehow I’m up and circling. But we’re heading straight for airspace so that’s it, game over. I land in a gale, barely able to grab enough wing to stuff it back in the bag. Graham winds off a hundred feet to land with me. Hmm… don’t push it next time!
Then March started to warm up. Flying at Eyam Edge was a struggle, but after an hour of trying to find a useable climb we found a thermal. Our little gaggle climbed, pushed forwards, topped up and stuck with it over the back of the moor. We piffled around in zeroes and then pushed off in front of the gaggle to find another climb. There were dribs and drabs off Stanage, and then the house thermal by the reservoirs finally gave me a proper climb and the others joined me.
Good sociable flying, all helping each other find the proper core, a real pleasure. Trying to push upwind inefficiently to a forming cloud nearly cost me the flight, but Jason Bolland, another Derbyshire friend, found another climb and up we all went again.
We all split up, but later I looked back upwind and there’s Ruth Churchill-Dower! Brilliant, we’re all still going. Downwind the odd blob was still forming. Niviuk’s Phil Colbert gets low and doesn’t make it to my factory-roof thermal, and then I lose it too. We meet up and talk rubbish for hours waiting for Rhona, a complete star who has agreed to come and squish five people and four wings into a Ford Focus. Another lovely day.
Then there is a technical flight from Lords Seat, trying to dodge East Midlands airspace over some of the most beautiful, squiggly terrain in the Peaks. A jammy low save gets me back up and I force my way west round the airspace to manage my first-ever respectable flight from Lords. Then a jolly 60+ km with Malcolm Davies on a breezy Long Mynd day, watching a beautiful cloud street disappearing off into airspace.
And then April 10th, a Lakes day with the Niviuk boys. They spend a lot of time boating out in front of the hill till I run out of patience and shoot off over the back. I intend to go for a sunny ridge into wind, but then change my plan and aim for where a good cloud is forming. This is a major turning point of my year and my XC flying. I’ve been so busy looking at ground sources that it’s distracted me from the far easier job of reading the sky. Flying the clouds suddenly seems easy compared to the bottom-grovelling I’ve practised for years!
Barney Woodhead's a climb behind and goes for my sunny ridge into wind. The sky shuts off just as he makes it across onto Barton Fell, but patience pays off, the sun eventually returns and we escape over the back… and follow the clouds downwind. A massive moor - walkout of the year in prospect - and then a booming climb to base. And here come the Howgills!
I can’t believe it, I’m out of the Lakes. North of the Howgills is a good sky but I’m scared of getting blown into some windy valley with no escape. Over the Howgills the sky is poor but my street is decaying. I jump to a soarable windward slope and wait till the sky changes, a poor decision that puts me on the ground to watch Barney pass in orbit, just in time for a gorgeous cloud street to develop in front of him.
Then there’s an epic Mynd day. A whole load of people fly a long way and I manage the first ton I’ve done for years, helped along the last 40km by Martin Knight, and Phil and Barney of Niviuk, to land at the same village where I completed my first-ever ton. It takes over seven hours and we’re pretty pleased with ourselves when we land. My high point is a low save at 90km as I watch a hot air balloon slowly inflating in a field. At 5.30 I squeeze every last breath out of the last real thermal of the day, back up to the cloud motorway at around 90km, and we get another hour out of the day. What kind of year is this? It’s only April!
Then a more challenging Lords day over my favourite squiggly terrain, attempting to squeeze east of East Midlands airspace till I bottle it and head west, just in time to confuse Andy Wallis into heading east. At 5,000ft over Alton Towers, something about the people hurtling around below me screaming gives me vertigo. The recent words of Jean-Luc and Wally about staying high at 2:30 are in my ears… but I couldn’t get down if I tried. I finally make Cannock, 70-odd km, very cold and very pleased.
It gets even sillier. It’s school holiday and I’m properly free. When the forecast suggests snowy Scottish highland flying might be fun, up I go. Simon (my partner) and I battle with the snow chains and slog our way up the Tarmachan, but the air on take-off doesn’t feel right to me and we both slog back down.
Then we get a glorious day flying a ridge that’s always tempted me. A whopping great walk-up, watching snow showers burst from the clouds towards Glencoe, pays off as we whoosh up over zebra slopes and are overwhelmed by powerful, smooth thermals and some of the most incredible scenery in Britain. Wow! Local pilot Dave Thomson is playing out and shouts across, “Where are we going to go?” It hasn’t even crossed my mind to try and score points today but I get some for a flat triangle, even landing back at the car to go retrieving.
Then a Lords XC day, a Mynd XC day and a Corndon XC day. I am enjoying life as a flying bum and want these school holidays to go on forever.
Then the best Bradwell day for years, again with the Niviuk boys, joyriding out of Derbyshire into Lincolnshire with half the Derbyshire pilots. The group splits into two; Phil fly-guides our gaggle from climb to climb and we drift downwind to where the other group is loitering. As we catch them it seems like the whole sky is full of people I like, a nice moment.
The giant gaggle splits again and glides off in search of more lift. A few unlucky pilots get decked along the way. At around 80km I get away with a massive mistake, trying to push back upwind to rejoin the last remaining gaggle, and scrabble underneath them for the rest of the flight. Three of us land close together and scrounge an excellent lift back. Another ton!
Then a short but memorable XC in May off a hill near Chesterfield. The sky was good as I was driving there but developing fast. I landed when I could see how alarmingly quickly the dark sky was growing, and was glad to be on the ground for once. Note to self: don’t push it. The rest of May and June are almost boring in comparison: a bit of beautiful scenic Lakes pleasure flying and a handful of lovely 50km flights that any other year would have been magic.
The first of the two that will sit in my memory for a long time is an eye-opening late flight off Ecton in Derbyshire. I’ve tried all day to get away, Gordon Bishop has joined me later, and we’ve both spent hours trying to get up. We are just about ready to give up at 5pm - I’ve not even bothered with my flying suit - and we get a climb. I leave way too low and lose the thermal, down to 200ft and almost landing back at the car before a lee-sider whisks me up to base in my shorts and down jacket.
This climb backs up what the Bish has told me about the climbs being better one ridge further back than Ecton, and changes my attitude to leaving the hill too low for a lot of the rest of the year. There are beautiful clouds to go for, but after about three of them I realise they’re not working. I gamble on a rippling pond and some flapping flags that look like they’re pointing at a thermal out in the blue. I don’t deserve it for flying away from the good sky but it pays off. I keep going till I run out of day and landing options.
The second truly memorable flight is a sweet little adventure exploring the Ladybower reservoirs. I reached the first steep part of the ridge too low and had to force my way round the corner to get into wind. I’d already had two jammy low saves at Eyam and Bradwell and the chance of a third was pretty slim. But I scratched around trying to soar a slope there, spending half an hour just trying to stay up. Skimming close to the ground was reliable but only ever gave me enough height to stay airborne. Scooting across a gully onto the next bit of rockery gave me some exciting rough air, and occasionally strong climbs that seemed to fizzle as soon as I got just behind the front of the hill.
After a while I got impatient. I thought if I got 200ft again I’d try going round the corner, and found consistent lift and a big fat tailwind. Hmmm. Nice to fly with loads of bog birds - curlews and snipes and that sort of stuff - and absolutely lovely scenery. I was now approaching rocks on the ridge I’d spotted from 5,000ft… and here we go. One of those lovely solid climbs, up and up and up over miles of moorland, further and further away from the big walkout. Just like the Ecton day: leaving the hill way too low but somehow getting up and away. Gobsmacking views over all the reservoirs: Derwent, Ladybower, Strines, Bradfield. This is what it’s all about, hanging on by a thread to a bit of air that takes you somewhere, seeing familiar things from a completely different perspective.
July 3rd was an insanely windy day at Bradwell. Only Davey (Broxholme) and a couple of Pennini in the air, the wind 45 degrees off the hill. It took all of about 50 seconds for my glider to find a climb and hurtle away over the back, and drifting backwards over Bamford Edge turned a sled ride into a joy ride. Davey and I escaped from the Peaks before it got even windier and headed up into the Upton Corridor for another 50k for me, more for Davey.
School hols again. I’m free but the forecast is rubbish. Then suddenly another ton day turns up! RASP has looked promising for days, but the closer it gets the more unlikely it seems. At Eyam the sky’s grey and unpromising, although there are cumulus below the top cover. As I climb out I see the sky opening up upwind, then doodle my way up through the Upton Corridor, briefly switching my Aware airspace gadget on to check. I try to fly away from the airspace and find some lovely lift, and here comes the Humber. There’s a fast-forming and fast-decaying street from the power stations to the hills in the distance. The vario ticks over a ton again - I can’t believe it! The edge of the yellow fields in the distance must be the coast, but then my sky dies to nothing and I’m on the floor again.
Late August. The gloomy weather drags on, the end of the holidays are approaching and I’m just starting to get despondent about the end of summer, when a Llangollen day is forecast. Take-off is littered with Derbyshire, Pennine and Mynd pilots, with a few locals. The day’s already good and even red streamers are in orbit. I’m trying a Niviuk Peak out of curiosity. I get up easily, boat around in the cloudless sky for a while, then get low.
It’s difficult for ages and I think I’ve blown it, but eventually I get back up and see Jean-Luc make a bold downwind dash followed by a second climb. I’m impatient to get away before the encroaching sea breeze wins, head downwind and find a second climb. The gaggle from the hill all come to join me and off we go.
Slow climbs take us the first 20k in around an hour. It’s a real pleasure to fly with a sociable and competent swarm of Niviuks. We take it in turns to be top of the stack, first in the next climb or scraping our way up from low down, or pimping along at the back. It’s mega-slow but fun for the first 40 - 50km, but the air’s really clear and we have beautiful views across to Snowdonia and the Shropshire hills.
After Welshpool the climbs and sky improve and it feels like a big day might be on. Mark Wilson and Wally head off downwind, then Barney scoots off up a cloud street towards the Mynd. Geoff Minshull and I carry on downwind. There are some stepping-stone cumulus in front of me offering a way to the next good patch of sky, but when I head for them I’m on my own. At Bache the clouds fizzle completely and I tuck in tight to the ridge and try to soar a bowl. I’m in zeroes at ridge height, just occasionally high enough to 360 over the trees. Then, just as Geoff flies over my head at base, a patch of sun strokes the nose of the spur in front of me and tickles a thermal out of it.
Chuffed with my patience, I’m circling over beautiful hills, floating along just below the clouds with the late sun twinkling on the rivers, highlighting the vivid green valleys… this is where I belong. Then two kites show me a stonking thermal and I carry on under a weak street towards Hay Bluff. Leaving the high ground I have two options - a bitty cloud to my left or a better cloud further away to my right. But the bitty cloud gives me nothing and the better cloud is out of reach, and I’m down… another ton. Unbelievable! I’ve been in the air for a ridiculous seven hours and 53 minutes, probably my longest time in the air ever.
The next day I’m sunburnt to a beetroot and probably too tired to fly sensibly. So I fly unsensibly and dangle along in a daze until Sheffield, where I make some good decisions to crosswind round the RHADS airspace. I leave the others and continue crosswinding out of curiosity, even though there’s a perfectly good corridor to go through. It’s so easy crosswinding for once that I carry on the same way past Lincoln and somehow wangle 99.9km!
Autumn arrives with a bang. It’s flyable, I’m on take-off, my flying suit’s in the car. I run down Mam Tor to get it and fall flat, fracturing my thumb. I convince myself it will be OK and fly badly - the first XC opportunity I’ve wasted for months. After convincing myself it will hurt less after a beer… or two… and sleeping on it, I sheepishly take myself into A&E. After they’ve strapped it up I drive to Parlick and have a delightful hop over the purple moors of my early flying career and chase buzzards up to Caton near Lancaster. Sweet.
Then I’m back on my Magus XC. It’s so nice to be back on my little Mac. It’s such fun to fly, turning is so easy, and it makes me grin constantly as it takes me for a short hop from Eyam to near Barnsley with this stupid pot on!
What an outstanding year. This is only the edited highlights of about half of the flights I’ve had. I’m amazed at the number of brilliant people who’ve retrieved me this year; I owe pretty much every pilot in Derbyshire and the Pennines a retrieve! Thanks everyone. Thanks also to Mac for all their support - my Magus XC has given me an amazing year of adventures.
Helen finished 8th in last year’s XC league with 629km, including four 100km+ flights.