A reader from Australia (which adds a bit of irony to this story) wrote in to critique the Oz Report on many different levels. He also wrote:

I want to know how it feels when you are racing against another top pilot and I want to hear about some of those amazing climbs while in thermals.

...to show up an coming pilots what it is like, e.g. how hard a thermal was to stick in and how it felt to wonder if you were going to make goal.

The content simply doesn't often inspire me like it should.

Don't get me wrong I think that the (Oz Report) site is great, but I think sometimes we could learn a lot more from top pilots if we got first hand stories on this site to enthuse people rather than simply getting the scores for the day.

Many of my friends have made similar comments.

In an effort to respond to this critique let me describe what it was like (for me) to fly one day in the pre-Worlds.

Let's go back to day one of the pre-Worlds, June 26th. The meet organizers sent us to a launch that I (and many others) had not been to before, Aspres, so right away this was a cause of concern and relief. Relief in that we wouldn't have to launch from Laragne-Chabre in conditions that appeared would require us to launch on a shallow slope in light to no winds. Concern, because we had little idea of what was ahead for us.

When we got there, it was great to see the huge alpine meadows covered with wild flowers at the launch and the steep rounded grass (and flower) covered launch slope facing south. The wind was coming up nicely even though on top behind launch it was over the back, but lightly. This was obviously a launch that didn't require the very best launching skills and fortune.

After I launched (early) on this sweet hillside I was pleased to find that the thermals were reasonably solid all along the east west ridge line and I wasn't getting tossed around. There were plenty of cu's over our heads and it was easy to get to cloud base and play the game of avoiding others as well as the clouds. It was quite pleasant waiting (an hour) for the start window to open. Just fun soaring around in good air and dodging clouds.

Now I made a mistake here, as the conditions seemed so good. I didn't worry about always staying at cloud base but flew all around getting lower and then getting back up to cloud base. But when it got close to the first start time I wasn't at the top of the lift right under a cloud. I was 200' to 500' lower than the top guys, as for once during the previous hour I couldn't find the lift I needed to get to the top. This put me in a relatively poor position at the start. And, I also made the mistake of going with the first start clock when I could have held back, like Scott Barrett did, and chased the pilots in front of me.

Also, I hung with the crowd over the launch area and didn't risk going back to the north to get up on the peak behind me to the north. I saw one pilot (Scott) do it, but didn't want to risk it. He wasn't getting high at first. If my radio had been working right, I would have called him and asked what was up.

Being lower than the guys I was going with put me in an anxious mood. I pushed harder to go instead of working with what lift I was in. I should have been getting higher first before going.

Now the first glide to the east, a fast five kilometer glide where I was keeping up with every one else and not losing any altitude with respect to the pilots around me, was to the flanks of Pic du Bure, a rough and barren alpine peak. It's so great to be running fast and have all these gliders around you all trying to make it to the next thermal first. We ran to a thermal on the top of a ridge line running out from the mountain and it was strong, way too strong.

I was plenty scared by its strength and its rough edges. But, I needed to gain some altitude after the glide, so I hung in as long as I could take it. The next thermal seemed even worse if that was possible, but I gained 800' before I fled. I was on the flank of a large mountain with plenty of pilots around, and numerous ones below me, so I was pretty confident that I would find "better" lift ahead, lift that I could get comfortable in. Besides racing along was a blast.

I did find more lift although I still stayed around for only about 1000' of gain in the next few thermals as I was racing with others and trying to stay up with them and not fall too far behind. I was suffering from my relatively poor start and wanted to stay within shouting distance of the lead gaggle.

I left the eastern edge of the mountain flanks at the first turnpoint just northwest of the town of Gap after flying for twenty two kilometers, and the whole situation changed. I was still high at 8,000' but the ridges had disappeared and below me it was all green meadows, with a turnpoint out in the valley to the east south east. There was an area of higher ground running west to east for seventeen kilometers to a peak six kilometers north of the valley turnpoint, and I was following the high ground way way below me. There were scattered small cu's ahead to mark the lift and pilots flying all around me.

Following the clouds and the high ground got me north of the course line, which I was not that happy about, but I was looking ahead to the peak to provide strong lift. I saw pilots low on its western flanks ahead of me, which was not encouraging. I kept going around the peak until I was on the south side above bare rocky areas and found small broken but consistent lift at 250 fpm. I held on with a couple of other pilots at my altitude as we kept out of each other's way, got tossed about, but climbed 2000', enough to make it high to the turnpoint, six km to the south.

One pilot I climbed up with stayed in that lift longer than I (I was happy to leave as soon as I could) and got to cloud base. I ran across the valley to get the turnpoint hoping that I wouldn't lose too much altitude. There was a knoll on the course line six km east of the turnpoint, just before a huge lake that we had to cross. It was obvious to me that I had to get up on this knoll, if I wanted to get across the lake.

Having lost three thousand feet since I left the flanks of the peak to the north of the turnpoint, I came in just over the top of the knoll and found lift on the other side on the south side, a cliff away from all the trees on the other sides. What luck.

Scott Barrett, who started twenty minutes behind me, came and joined me then. The lift was the best so far in terms of comfort. Easy to stay in. Powerful, no rough edges. The lead gaggle was now just over my head, and not that far. I had almost caught them. And Scott had almost caught them also.

How did Scott accomplish this feat? Unlike almost all of the pilots during the time before the start windows were open Scott climbed a peak just to the west of Pic du Bure and just outside the twenty two kilometer entry start circle to our east. This was something of a chancy calculation as, unless he had done a lot of work before that flight, it would be hard to know if it was possible to stay outside the entry start circle by going to this peak.

Getting high on this peak gave him an extra 1,600' on the rest of us at the start and had him starting behind us so that he could use the stragglers in front of him to mark thermals, if he needed them. He didn't, at first any way. Because of his extra altitude he was able to jump over to Pic du Bure and have 2,000' on the rest of us without having to thermal until he got there, cutting out one thermal stop.

With the extra altitude he cut out five more thermal stops to the first turnpoint and was still at 8,000' when he got there. He then cut out going to the peak hill side north of the second turnpoint, where I got up, but headed southeast before getting there and got for the second turnpoint. He had to take two thermals, just as I did, crossing the green open areas before the turnpoint but got there 500' higher than I did. He then came in to join me at the same altitude at the knoll.

I left the knoll at 9,400' at 15:40. Scott left 3 minutes earlier at 8,700'.

Getting high in a good thermal was a great relief and it was exhilarating flying high over the lake. Going over water always gives me more of a thrill than I appreciate, but it was still cool. I was headed for the Dormillouse, a dominant ridge line that we were told to take all the way south southeast until we were east of the third turnpoint then jump 90 degrees over to it to the west. The idea was to fly without turning over the ridge line which had good landing areas to its west then jump over the valley to the turnpoint avoiding the bad areas with no landings to the west.

It felt great to climb up the sunny side of the Dormillouse in a smooth thermal and just get over the top so that I could fly near it and find the best lift just above it.  I was scooting down the ridge, not far above it, not turning, three minutes behind Scott and just as high. I love this kind of ridge running over barren mountain sides as long as the air is not rough.

There were cu's every where and dark cu's to our west out in the valley at 8,000'. We were just under the clouds. There were a couple of pilots down the ridge but after eight kilometers there was no one in front of me on the ridge. I was very conflicted at this point. Here I was in a strange new place going way off the course line, with a break in the ridge line that required a jump to the next part and there were no pilots ahead of me taking this route. The arrow on my Flytec 6030 kept saying go to the right, you idiot.

At this point, just after I climbed up both Scott and I turned off the ridge line (just like we were told not to do) and headed out into the valley to get under the black clouds. In the middle of the valley first Scott, then I found some lift. I was losing ground on Scott. He left that thermal at 9,000' six minutes ahead of me, but I left at 8,200'.

The course line took me toward a lone 7000' mountain with a tower on top six kilometers to the south southwest. The land below was no longer a valley but hillsides with steep fields and small villages. There were cu's every where and it was dark above, but it was a long glide without lift. I saw another pilot heading back fast to where I had been, but there was another one just in front of me and quite a bit below me, so that gave me hope that things would be good ahead. It did not look good below.

Scott made it to the northwest (upwind) flank of the mountain, Blayeul, three minutes before I got to the eastern flank, both of us got there a few hundred feet below 6,000'.  The wind was out of the west at five mph. There were a good number of pilots, the lead gaggle, turning just above me and to my west when I got there. I couldn't pick out Scott as he was 1,300' higher, at about the height of the top of the mountain, three kilometers to my west.

As I came in on the lee side of the mountain, 1,300' below the top, and just under a bunch of other pilots, I started getting tossed around. There was lift there but the air was rough and the glider seemed often to be flying without useful input from me. I found out later that this was normally a great place to get high and get over the mountain.

A few minutes after I arrived at the mountain side a large high cloud that was blown up and out from a towering cu came over and shaded the mountain and all the area around it, just when I needed the lift to get out of a scary place. This was very bad timing for me. There were very few landing places below that weren't steep hillsides and I thought seriously about running back away from the shade and toward friendly fields.

But I was determined to go forward and I spent the next twenty minutes trying to get high enough to get over the mountain from the lee side. The lift did get less turbulent. Twice I was able to climb a thousand feet, to the height of the top of the mountain, but the sink was horrendous when I tried to approach it. Scott was climbing up to 500' over it on the upwind side of the mountain.

Then I saw Wolfi heading into the wind around the north side the mountain. Two pilots followed him and then I was the third. I knew that this was into the area that we were specifically told not to go in low. But with three pilots out in front of me, I figured that I had a fighting chance. Fat chance.

The sink was bad and the landing fields almost non existent. I was feeling like an idiot. I just kept looking around the corner and hoping for better. I worked a cut on the hillside, but didn't find much. Wolfi went further (where I couldn't see a place to land) and worked lift on the upwind side.

I spied a large braided stream bed and headed for a hill side next to it where I found some lift but not enough to get out of the potential hole I was in. I decided that I needed to get out of the air. I was too scared to stay in it and wasn't thinking all that well. The winds were tossing me about.

I headed up the stream bed aware of the fact that I was going slightly down wind, but the canyon was too narrow for me to turn around in with ease and I didn't trust the winds. My goal was to survive the landing. I pulled in for extra speed as I got down and flared hard when I got low. I landed with minor scrapes to my knees on the creek bed and no damage to the glider.

I hope that I have expressed what it feels like to fly cross country on a race day (at least on this day). Other days I have different feelings, so one day is not like all days. On many days I don't have any scary moments. This flight had a few more than most.

I hesitated to write this story because it just gives my critics fodder for their mistaken belief that my ego runs wild. That it is all about me. Unfortunately, I just don't have access to the feelings of other pilots. They are often quite reluctant to speak in these terms or tell me much about their flights.

So, in response to my reader, I tell the story that I know, not the story that I don't know. I certainly don't have the time or energy to sit down and have a serious interview with other pilots after flying a task, but I do try to pick up on things that they say by asking as many questions as I can get away with. I am quite willing to write more of these in depth stories if they are truly useful.

Also, looking back, and having a few moments, like when traveling across the country, I can go more into what actually happened (using track logs to help) and how I felt about it then.

Of course, Scott continued to do well and win the day as well as the meet.