Adrian Morgan
34 CLASSIC BOAT AUGUST 2019
“M
ust be like sailing.” If I’ve heard it once
I’ve... and the answer is “no”. A glider
or as the Americans call them, sailplane’s
wings go from side to side, and there are two of them
(you would hope). The wing of Sally goes up the way,
as they say in these parts, and there’s only one of them,
unless you count the genoa which might be likened to
the flap on some advanced gliders’ wings – except it’s at
the front, so it’s not really like a flap. More like a canard,
or the leading-edge wing surfaces on some of those
STOL (Short Take Off and Landing) aeroplanes, the
most famous of which to any model-making schoolboy
of the 1960s was the Luftwaffe’s Fieseler Storch.
An addiction to weather forecasts is shared between
pilots and sailors. However, whereas a competent sailor
and sound boat can cope with a gale, the pilot will have
his glider tucked up and strapped down in anything over
a Force 5. Flying (as opposed to launching) in a gale,
however, is normal, as the air up there, despite what
the wind sock on the ground says, can often be blowing
great guns, and from a totally different direction.
Windshifts cause much the same problems, albeit in
another dimension. Find yourself downwind in a slow
glider and you will struggle to reach the airfield, which
may be several miles upwind. At least you can pile on
the speed, nose down and ASI close to terminal velocity.
As a side note, the world of gliding
is confusingly populated almost
entirely by acronyms, from VFR
(visual flight rules) to air speed
indicator and beyond. In fact
you can virtually hold an entire
conversation without using
anything but acronyms.
Getting home from on high is,
therefore, not really akin to beating
into a strong headwind. Although
it can be equally bumpy, sailing is
a lot wetter. You rarely see glider
pilots in oil skins.
How about an awareness of
dangers? Now here we are on firmer
[sic] ground. Up there, when the
gliders are circling like hawks in
a thermal, collision is a real issue,
and there are rules about joining
the circle, as there are rules when
you meet another glider head on
(port to port, in fact).
Why this sudden interest in
gliding? Well, in mid-May, after a
winter of terrifying the bloke in the
back seat of the Highland Gliding
Club’s K-21, they let me loose on
a day so calm and benign that the
wind sock was as flaccid as a...
wind sock on a windless day.
Among the experiences of my life, that of flying solo
ranks near the top. As the glider came to a halt, and
the port wing tip tilted gently to the grass, I looked to
the skies, thanked god I was still in one piece (and more
importantly so was the £120,000 glider); that I had not
disgraced myself or betrayed the trust of the CFI (chief
flying instructor); and shed – yes – a little tear. From
my first flight in 1987, it had only taken 32 years.
Gliding and sailing would be a hard combination,
given time constraints and weather. But not impossible;
I know of several friends who do both, and I wonder
which they prefer. The similarities are not, contrary to
what many might think, obvious, and the presence of
wings is not chief among them. The sense of freedom,
however, is. The harnessing of the elements another,
the never to be forgotten danger, whether it be a rocky
coastline or a rocky escarpment, no lift and nowhere
safe to land.
Cross country pilots are solitary, and happiest with
height in hand. Much like solo sailors with a safe offing,
and plenty of sea room. For the rest of us however, the
voyage is often simply a precursor to the landfall, and to
the first pint. Maybe, when discussions about wings and
lift have been exhausted, that is the essential difference
between sailing and flying. You most certainly cannot
drink and fly.
Adrian compares his two loves – sailing and gliding
“From my
first flight
in 1987, it
had only
taken me
32 years
to go solo”
CHARLOTTE WATTERS
Falling gently to Earth