Summer Solstice on Mt. Holyoke

Today was the longest day of the year.  I had an important contract lined up for the evening that fell through at the last minute due to a technicality.  So I decided to take the afternoon/evening off and try to go flying as it was post frontal and the sky looked great!

The only person I could round up to join me was Keith, and he was itching to try out the site.   Keith headed over to Mt. Holyoke after getting out of work.  He called me around 2:30pm when I was en-route, and said the wind was DEAD.  I knew it was going to be light winds, but dead?  Going to Skinner State Park was a risk, I was hoping the winds would turn on based on current weather predictions, cloud cover predictions, and observations from the previous day.

The day before, we hiked up Mt. Tom to the southwest of Mt. Holyoke, as it used to be a hang-glider launch.  After the road was shut down, only the fit and dedicated, hike up her grueling trail to fly their para-gliders there.  I had seen Mt. Tom from the air when flying at Holyoke, but have not had the altitude, weather conditions, or skill to jump X-C to that ridge, yet. We hiked up Mt. Tom and arrived at the summit around 4:30pm; the wind was dead.  At 5pm a switch turned on and the mountain lit up with thermal activity, and the winds kicked up to 15 to 18kts. This was my hope for today.

I was banking on Skinner having the same results based on previous flights there, and a little bit of luck.  So with no expectations, I kept driving to Mt. Holyoke, wondering all the while if I should have gone to Ascutney.  Mt. Ascutney is 3000' vertical versus 900' at Holyoke, which gives you more time to search for lift on light days.

Tom Lanning called me on the drive out and noted how amazing the sky looked (in eastern Pennsylvania) where he was at.  "Best in years" he said.  In flying superstition - this is a sure fire setup for the day to be a wash.  But I remained hopeful.  When we drove in to Skinner State Park, the flag on the Summit House was blowing around a bit - there was hope.

We met up with Keith and I gave him a tour of the LZ.  As we were standing there, the thermals started lighting off and I got ancy; I still needed lunch.  Mid-sentence I ran to my car saying "time to go", and headed across the street to this excellent little farmstand turned restaurant/sandwich shop.  Barstow's has the best sandwich's and other goodies, and everything is made local.  If you're in the area, I highly recommend it for a sandwich, dessert, or just an ice cream.

After quickly getting a sandwich to pack for the top, we jumped in the car and drove up the mountain.  Now for the hike...there is a challenging, but not too harsh trail, that you have to hike to get to the launch.  Hauling a 65lbs. hang-glider on your shoulder, plus 35lbs. of gear/water/food in a harness pack, can be more than unbearable for some, and prevent others from even flying this site.

Keith went ahead as his harness was already on launch, and his glider 2/3 of the way there.  I gathered my stuff and began the hike.  As I broke the trees, I could tell the wind was at least blowing, but not very strong.  This can be a dangerous site to launch with limited to no wind, as the trees jut out rather high below launch so without a steady moderate wind, one can sink off launch and skim through the treetops - which is not ideal.

As we set up our gliders, 4:15pm approached and the thermals started coming in on launch.  The wind speed started picking up to 9mph and we were excited but not convinced.  I looked at Keith and told him, "it's a good thing the wind is picking up, otherwise I would have to remove you from my list of flying friends".  We were skunked at Mohawk Trail a few weeks back after sitting there all day waiting for winds that never arrived.  Keith laughed it off, and we had lunch while we waited for the theorized conditions to arrive.


At 4:50pm Keith got ancy and suited up.  He asked for a 'hang check' and I gladly assisted.  He faced launch and was ready to go when the wind petered out.  He looked at me and asked if waiting till my predicted 5pm time was a better idea.  I said sure, with some resignation and doubt, that I would be right.  We watched the cycles come and go for another 10 minutes, and then a nice thermal blew through.  Keith picked up his wing, yelled "clear", and started his run.

As his feet left the ground and the glider began to fly, his wing flew out straight and level.  Clean launch, yes, but more to my interest was whether or not he was going to stay up.  I watched in anticipation as he made his right turn upwind after coming out of the slot in the trees.  He slowly started to climb but it wasn't anything to get excited about.  I waited, he flew a little further up the ridge and turned back toward launch; he had gained perhaps 25 feet.  Hmmmm.  He turned again, and flew a little further to the north, this time he was 100' over launch and climbing.

I ran to my glider, grabbed my harness, suited up, and hooked in.  I watched for another cycle.  Today was a true "time your launch" day.  About 10 minutes later, I saw the trees moving below, and shortly thereafter, another good cycle came through.  I lifted my wing, began my run, and was off.  I passed out of the trees without a climb, but without a sink, and flew up the ridge to the north.  I was over launch by the first turn.  Things were looking good.

I quickly sped off to find the thermal Keith was clearly in.  He was now at 2000' and climbing.  I snagged one by the summit house that was 400fpm up, and began to ride the elevator to the sky.  I was quickly behind the ridge, and still not very high, so I decided to bail on the lift I was in, which had calmed a bit, and headed back to the ridge so as to avoid being behind, low altitude, and unable to get back.

When I came out to the ridgeline (still climbing but slowly), I found another thermal in the same spot and this one was bigger and better.  I climbed at 600fpm up, and was quickly passing Keith.  The higher I went, the easier it became to stay in the lift.  I was heading fast to the giant cloud that I waited for to pass over launch.  This was awesome!   I found an 800fpm core, although later I noticed my vario had maximum velocity up at 1200 fpm (must have been busy then), and quickly went to cloud base.

As I neared the bottom of the cloud, roughly 200 feet and still climbing fast, I became increasingly aware of the danger of cloud suck on a day like this.  The cummies were huge, and growing!  Discretion took over and I began to work over toward the edge of the cloud to keep a bailout if needed.  Unfortunately, there was a lot of sink on my way.  I continued losing altitude, albeit slowly, and hurried to the upwind side of the thermal, where I've heard most of the lift is.

I quickly recovered the lost altitude and climbed back up to cloud base.  The cloud was beginning to drift too far over the back, and had it not been for the looming airspace violation, I would have followed it downwind.  I chose to head upwind and try to find a new thermal under some fresh forming cummulus clouds I spotted.  I headed to the closest wispy I could find, and sure enough - LIFT!  I climbed back up to regain my altitude loss, and once I drifted back behind the ridge, I looked for another cloud, but this time a bit further out front.

I lost 1000 ft. of altitude getting there, but I quickly found lift and began another climb.  I reached the ridgeline again, and decided to head more toward Mt. Tom, hoping to find something to keep me afloat so I could jump to the ridgeline to the southwest.  As I began heading out, the sky had become more and more open, the lift was drying up.  Ah well, another time.  So instead of making a futile attempt, I decided to stay on the ridge and slow my descent in the thermal lift coming up off the Holyoke Range.

As I slowly descended, Keith was still doing a great job maintaining.  I watched the para-gliders all take off and start scooping up their sunset flights over on Mt. Tom.  Keith and I soared the ridge together for another 45 minutes and then he got too low for comfort, and headed to the LZ.  I was working on turn efficiency, and maximizing every bubble of lift I could get, so I decided to stay and play.  Plus he launched before me, so I had to make up more time so I could get the longer flight.  Can't have my reputation being tarnished.

A beautiful sunset manifested on the horizon and I noticed Keith was broken down, and waiting in the LZ.  Realizing daylight was limited, I left the ridge and headed toward the island in the middle of the Conneticut River.  I flew over the boats at the sandbar and continued to fly straight down the river to burn off altitude before landing.  This has been a long time dream of mine - flying down a river in a hang-glider.


Not since flying helicopters in the Army had I been able to do something like this, and with no engine to quickly get you out of danger, it is a rare occasion to do it in a hang-glider.  A huge grin lit up my face as I soaked in the water passing beneath me, and the tree lined shores encasing me on either side.

As my altitude bled off, I turned inland and headed to the LZ with another 250 ft to left.  I set up my approach, and glided effortlessly into the LZ in the glassy evening air.  I flared into the setup area, touched down with a no stepper, and a huge grin on my face.  Awesome day!

Cloud Punch!

Rhett towed us to the moon, as the sky looked like trash the air was smooth, and it was a guaranteed sled run.  Unbeknownst to us, there were thermals to be found and Mark Hermann from CT squeaked out a 40 minute flight off tow.  I towed up a while after Mark, and Pete J. had taken off right before me.  Rhett waved me off tow in front of a rather wide cloud bank, which I thought he was going to tow me right through for a moment.  As I looked at this white wave in front of me, I couldn't resist the urge to fly through it.

Normally this would be a very bad idea, but the day was so 'anemic', I estimated there would be little turbulence in there.  As I approached the cloud bank, my vario became silenced.  I looked over to see the bar staying at zero - no sink!  Lift!  Had I been more interested in such minor details, I may have been able to ride the front of that bank back to Morningside, but I was too distracted by the thought of flying through a cloud to pay attention. 

As I approached the cloud, I pulled the bar in to speed up, in case there 'was' actually turbulence in there.  I punched through the exterior wall and immediately transported to some surreal wonderland.  Flying roughly 40 mph, things were whizzing by me with a good pace.  I could see splotches of the ground poking through the white floor of the cloud below.  All this added together to create a feeling of going through some sort of warp in a movie, it was amazing! 

After an all too short period of time, I exited out the other side of the cloud with elation.  It was so much fun, that I scanned the sky for another.  I quickly found a lone cloud in the distance that I could still reach with my current, and descending altitude, and I headed straight for it.

The second cloud was smaller and a little more broken, but still fun to punch through.  As I came out the other side I began my glide back to Morningside.  I scanned back and forth as I traversed the sky, looking for any lift I could find - nothing.  I remembered feeling a few bounces on tow as we passed over the trailer park south of the runway so I decided that may be my best bet. 

I arrived south of the runway at 1300' and snagged a small thermal (50fpm) off the trailer park that built with more force (200 to 300fpm) over the corn fields.  I rode it back to the training hill to 2500' and then it fizzled out.  I went back to the trailer park and found another thermal that was smaller and less developed.  I fought hard to ride it up but couldn't stay in it.  The air was buoyant and smooth; around 400' over the parking lot and bullseye, there was lift.  I turned a bit in the little stuff, doing no more than slowing my descent.

Directly over the bullseye I found a small thermal and smiled as I turned, trying to core up over the LZ.  It would have been fun, but no such luck.  All told, an exciting and enjoyable flight on a day that looked like nothing was going to happen.

The photo above is a cloud formation that looked like 3 fingers stretching into the ground from up above.

Flight Time: 51 minutes.