The Road to Harare (Zimbabwe distance record) Index
Mark Bailey
Thursday is the best day for cross country flying that I've ever seen. A long cloud street is forming out in front, there is lift absolutely everywhere, and the easterly is threatening to push through from behind takeoff, bringing with it the possibility of many xc miles. I'm already halfway to cloud base without having given a thought to technique, triggers, or indicators. Yes, today is the day. Reluctantly I seek out some weaker lift, and start coring it gently back to a top landing. Next passenger please.
Friday, and after a night of cursing the punters Marsh and I have decided that they can go jump. If the weather is co-operating, then we are chasing kilometres. At takeoff the easterly is being held back by weak thermals. Cloud base is much lower, but the signs are looking good. Preparation time. Glider out, chocolate and drink into the harness pocket, check the cell phone and radio, joking with Marsh to pick me up in Rusape. Small cumulus are starting to speckle the sky, and its time to go.
I launch in zero wind, but 50m in front of takeoff find a nice 2 m/s up. Straight into the core, and I start checking the signs. Convergence behind takeoff is pushing forwards. Radio Marsh with the advice to launch as soon as possible or miss out.
I climb quickly to cloud base, but once there am struck with indecision. Do I push out to the south-west, under closely packed but fading cu's that lead straight to a cloud-street, or jump the larger gap to the north-west with its developing clouds. Belatedly I realise that I am out of the lift, and no amount of hunting can change the downward glide. My cloud fades, and I am left gliding northwards along the foothills, desperately looking for anything going up.
I'm so low now that I radio Marsh 'I've blown it, I'm landing below Racotza'. My last desperate scratching puts me over a dry field bordering a stream. As my glide levels out I use every trick and skill that I've learned, but at best can only maintain. The easterly has won through leaving Marsh stranded on the hill, and now it pushes me toward the road. A tiny spur, a slight gain, scratching, drifting. A mealie leaf marking a small core, I claw upwards for a few more metres. By now I've drifted a couple of km's, still less that a hundred metres above the ground. Downwind of me are several sharp kopjes, but I need to hang in there for another seven or eight km's. A cloud starts to form above me, and slowly my thermal develops. Finally I'm climbing continuously.
I drop out of my saving thermal, and push west. The Kopjes are within reach, and the sky is developing again. Ten km's from takeoff I find another reasonable thermal, and start winding my way skywards. Marsh is on the radio; he takes a note of my position and indicates that he's heading to another site. I don't make base, inattention bringing on the depressing drone of my sink alarm. A large bare field bordered by a stream eases my frustrations, and despite arriving there low I am soon settled into a relaxing left-hand climb. More chatting with Marsh, then I'm close to base and on full speed-bar. Wisps of cloud dance past me until I reach for the B-lines as the ground starts fading from view.
I drop below base, and back onto the speed-bar. It's now a game of chasing a line of lift trying to maintain a constant altitude about 300m below the cloud. As the lift eases I come off the bar, edging closer under the dark bases. Increasing lift and the bar is full out as I wander towards the edges of my fluffy friends.
Scanning the dirt roads below, I haven't seen a single vehicle since the village below takeoff. Below me now, the vast open highveld and a scattering of Africans villages. There are plenty of kopjes, each the perfect trigger, each baking in sun. Time now for some chocolate.
40km's now and contact with Marsh is a distant memory. I'm climbing quietly, drifting slowly under the end of my cloud street. I have been heading steadily westward. The next street is well established, and starts about 2km's west of my position. Between us lies a large bare rock. My climb rate slows to 0.2 m/s. The sun blazes down on the rock, the only area not in shadow. It's tantalisingly close, and just has to be working.
Frustrated at my slow climb, I break the two most golden rules.
Never leave lift to look for lift. Have patience.
But it just has to work, so I turn onto glide...
NOTHING.
I look upwind and down.
NOTHING.
Berating myself for my stupidity, I really start hunting. Just downwind is a small bowl. 8-10km's beyond the rock kopjes and msasa trees is the nearest deserted road. This bowl has to work. Please. It's my only hope. It's in the sun, but looking very green.
Flying over it I find a couple of bumps, but nothing workable. Looking closer, seeing the fingers of water feeding a stream I realise why. Still the small bumps, and I start to associate them with the large flat rock in the centre of the flay. Scrambling about in tight turns, I manage to hang inside the core as a weak thermal triggers off. It's tight, and my glider rocks and surges as I struggle upwards. This thermal is tiny. But it's my salvation. As the thermal widens out I settle into a steady climb. Nicely slumped over in the harness, arms hanging in the brakes, relaxed. The view is superb. All the better for being above it now. An Augar Buzzard swings in, joining me for a few minutes. I celebrate the beauty with more chocolate.
Back at base, reassessing my position. The cloud street is still well defined, but extending either side of it is a layer of stratocumulus. There is a huge amount of shadow in all directions. My only option is to stay near base, utilising the cloud suck. I'm convinced that it will be all over if I get low again.
After passing over a large mining operation, the first significant civilisation since takeoff, I start passing over larger dirt roads. Finally, after 3 ½ hours flying, I spot my first vehicle.
Rusape and an easy retrieve lie towards the south-west. No amount of trying to angle in that direction helps. My street disappears over the western horizon. Low again, after the distraction of dealing with this morning's coke. The whole area is in shadow, but at 60km's I'm not about to quit. Another kopje, just off to the side offers my last hope. Patience is rewarded as another slow thermal carries me gently upwards. Its my last climb of the day, but I manage to hang close to base for another 15km's until a long glide sets me down beside a farm house. Arriving overhead, I am about to land when a pickup appears around the corner. I touchdown, and am immediately offered a ride to the nearest main road. Quickly packing my glider, having it thrown in the back with the dead cow, and we are off.
It takes me 4 hours of hitching and I'm back in Nyanga. The Zimbabwe record now extended to 85km's, and Marsh is determined to be a bit quicker on takeoff next time.
