First Solo

Everyone says that going solo is a special occasion - and they are right. For me the build-up was like this:

A Quick History

I had my first flight in late Spring followed a few weeks later (after a holiday) by my first formal training flight in early summer. I then flew once or twice a week through the summer. As the workload and responsibility increased the experience was slowly evolving from pure fun to enjoyable hard work. I felt that I was progressing well enough but slower than I'd like, mainly due my busy job during the week compounded by routinely poor weekend weather and a constant change of instructors (due to the weekend rota system). Many factors can alter the rate of training progress, as explained later on this page.

To help avoid regression between widely-spaced flights I started working on this web site to capture what I was learning. I wished I'd started flying much earlier in the year (preferably ten years ago) because the worsening weather was becoming a real obstacle. As the poor summer receded into a damper autumn a conspiracy of other factors like long-overdue home-decorating brought my flying practice to a virtual halt.

In autumn, as usual the so-called wave season brought many pilots to Deeside from all over the U.K. Wave lift can happen any time of the year over Deeside if the wind and atmospheric conditions are right. But by September/October the summer thermals have usually flown south for the winter like a load of geese. So in these autumn months, pilots from sites without decent lift come to Deeside or other areas in the lee of mountains to try and find wave. Unfortunately that year the weather was perpetually poor, resulting in glider congestion on the few good flying days - not conducive to more training flights for the likes of me.

In early winter the sun made a brief appearance as if saying farewell before entering hibernation and I dashed to the club. But despite spending the whole day there I only managed to get one short flight. Too many others had the same idea and had the same result. As I flew I could sense a lack of practice with symptoms like uncoordinated turns and loose speed control. As I drove home at dusk I was quite disheartened. I felt a physical sense of frustration at not being able to fly more often. I even considered giving up so I could spend my time doing something more productive like getting a golf handicap. But I knew I loved flying too much. I'd just have to persevere some more.

Then the winter descended fully with a thud and the usual pre-Xmas distractions pushed gliding even further aside for a while.

By this point I started worrying that after only one flight in the previous three months, my next flight would show a great state of disrepair. Because I couldn't practice I resorted more to theory. I tidied-up the web site a little as an excuse to read it through in detail and then ploughed through the main gliding textbooks by authorities such as Stewart & Piggott. I started thinking through imaginary flights in my head, inserting problems like incipient spin and full spin recovery. Soon I reckoned I was mentally sharper about flying a glider than the last time I was actually airborne.

Around Xmas, despite seasonal ballast appearing around my mid-section (too much chocolate), I resolved to get flying again as soon as possible. When a calm & sunny weekday finally arose, knowing it is usually easier to gain access to a glider during the week, I called work to say I was taking the day off then hacked the ice off my car and after getting it started I whizzed out of Aberdeen then crept through the winter landscape suspecting a conspiracy of black ice. After an eternity I reached the gliding club in the foothills of the Highlands 35 miles inland. It was indeed a lovely winter's day, with a few high wispy clouds and very bright sunshine - although the sun hardly climbs above the surrounding hills at this time of year in northern Scotland.

When I arrived mid-morning, full daylight had only just arrived. In these parts a winter's day is squashed between 0900 and 1500. There was nobody in sight and no aircraft to be seen. Only one other car sat in the car park and the hanger door was closed. I stepped out of the car and could almost feel a cold silence pressing down from the surrounding hills. The whole gliding site including the runways was covered in a deep crisp frost. The wind-sock hung limply showing only a gentle westerly breeze. Ideal.

For the first time I met Roy, the new professional (weekday) instructor & DCFI. We had a chat about what stage of training I had reached. Then Al the CFI appeared and suggested that I conduct a Daily Inspection (DI) of the Puchacz. I'd watched a couple of DI's before but hadn't performed one myself. We wandered over the airfield to the hanger where another pilot John was preparing the Grob motorglider. We pulled out the Pawnee tug to get access to Puchacz Yankee Lima. As I started the DI on the Puchacz, the tug pilot Robin arrived and started the DI on the Pawnee. Al helped me fill in the blanks as I inspected the two-seater. It was very educational - and a lot to remember. I checked that the few minor problems reported in the glider's log book had not worsened or been joined by anything more serious, and then signed-off the glider as fit-to-fly. Al reckoned that after a couple more supervised DI's I'd be signed-off to do one myself.

Roy then hooked up the Rascal towing truck and we towed Yankee Lima along the taxiway to the easterly launch point.

Closing the Gaps

At the launch point as I prepared to fly I had a chat with Roy about what we'd do. I suggested we should practice spinning, as this category was the biggest gap in the sign-offs on my training record. I was half-expecting that Roy would require me to make at least one normal flight to check out my basic skills as he didn't know me and I wasn't exactly 'current'. So I was quite surprised when Roy suggested that we take a very high tow and then practice almost every type of spin in the book. Plus a few other exercises for good measure. I realised that this would be quite a demanding flight. But as we lifted off and I flew us gently into the bright blue sky I felt more relaxed than usual and realised was really looking forward to this "packed programme".

During the aerotow Roy asked me to put the Puchacz out of position several times and then recover (out to one side, too low, too high). He then demonstrated lateral instability and a divergent oscillation and asked me to recover from each one. Each time I managed to sort us out without too much trouble. I reckon the calm conditions helped. Then after the longest tow I've ever had, at 4,500 feet I pulled the release, climbed left then levelled us into a normal cruise. Looking around I could see a vast spread of snowy mountains stretching west as far as the eye could see, a wonderful view. We paused for a moment to soak it up then the real business of the flight commenced...

In a few minutes we had lost about three thousand feet as Roy put me through the ropes with a standard spin & recovery, spiral dive & recovery, the changing effect of the rudder at / near the stall, spin off a steep or thermal turn, and prolonged spinning (several complete rotations). For good measure Roy also threw-in spinning to the right off a left turn and then asked me to show steeper and steeper turns at higher airspeeds. We finished off with a spin entry & recovery just below 1,000 feet. This was more scary as the ground seemed very close indeed, rising fast beneath the nose of the glide, pointing straight down.

We were now a little below normal circuit-entry height and I quickly sorted out a standard pattern. I thought aloud to help Roy know what my mind was up to. As I turned onto the approach we were a little high and I fine-tuned our speed and rate of decent with the airbrakes about half-extended to head straight for the reference point for a decent landing. For a change there was hardly a bump and we rolled straight down the centre of the runway to a gentle stop.

During the flight I also commented when I wasn't getting things quite right, like failing to keep the yaw string central (uncoordinated turns) or drifting a little below the chosen approach speed. But Roy said that was fine as I was spotting and fixing the faults promptly.

Overall there had been nice encouraging noises from the rear seat of the glider - by now I was very glad to have taken the day off work.

The Announcement

Back on firm ground and still a little dizzy after all the spinning we returned to the clubhouse for a coffee and a debriefing. I was taken aback when Roy said that I'd performed the exercises well enough for him to sign-off the lot. And for good measure he also signed-off low-towing, flying in the prop wash, the standard circuit, normal approach, overshooting, undershooting, and landing. Then to my increasing amazement he added that since I'd now been cleared on all the essential elements of the pre-solo training syllabus, we would fly a pre-solo check flight. (Click here for a look at my training card - side 1 or side 2).

After about fifteen minutes we returned to the airfield for the pre-solo check-flight. It was very 'by the book': a standard 1000 foot tow, a few turns to lose height near the high key area, a standard circuit and a normal landing. As before I thought aloud to help Roy know what I was up to. After only 7 minutes we were down again. But it seemed very odd for the instructor to sit completely silent in the back.

We opened the canopy and unbuckled. All was quiet. Butterflies began to flap deep inside. The suspense was killing me.

The Flight

As we moved the glider back to the launch point Roy chatted some more about the previous flights, probably to help keep my mind occupied. I started the preparation by installing two ballast weights in the front of the glider to compensate for the empty instructor's seat, where Roy was securing the empty straps. As I was buckling-up my parachute and laying out my own seat harness I felt a rising mix of nervousness and excitement and a kick of adrenaline as it sunk in that I was about to fly on my own. My head was a buzz of checklist acronyms and recovery drills. But underneath I felt a welcome undercurrent of calm. I got in and tied myself down and performed the pre-flight checks. Closing the canopy I noticed how heavy it was without a helping hand from the rear. The tug moved in front. I asked for the tow rope to be attached. I watched as the instructor - standing outside the glider - connected me to the tug. Then he moved aside to lift the the wing. A moment later he signalled to the tug - and off I went.

I quickly sensed that the glider was lighter than before. The acceleration was greater, resulting in a shorter ground run before takeoff, then a sudden climb which I quickly countered by applying more forward stick than usual. I worked at staying in the correct position level with the tug until it started to climb. As soon as we were established in the climb I began to relax and then grinned all the way up. It was a really weird but very good feeling to have the glider all to myself for the first time. I sensed that the tug pilot was being even more careful than usual to fly a nice, steady path.

At 1000 feet I let go of the tug in the usual climbing turn to the left, then sorted myself out for the short cruise, trimming immediately for a slightly faster 50 knots because I was already heading below 1000 feet (and I had noted a little frost on the wings). I made sure I kept a good lookout as there was only one pair of eyes in the glider this time. There was no-one else aloft except the tug, descending to land in the distance. I checked the wind-sock and it was still showing a very light westerly breeze - no change. I was already close to the appropriate high key area so I meandered around a little, descending to circuit (pattern) height with a couple of 'S' turns to keep the airfield in view.

I performed the downwind checks and joined a standard left-hand circuit, calling my intentions on the radio. I tried to sound matter-of-fact but my heart was still thumping. I concentrated on flying an accurate circuit, carefully monitoring the angle relative to the reference point on the runway. At the low key point I lowered the nose and retrimmed for an approach speed of 55 knots. Maintaining the lookout I could see that the tug had now vacated the north runway so I had the airfield to myself. But the tug was parked in an unusual place at the side of the north runway near the clubhouse. And nearby I could just see a little group of onlookers. Every few seconds I softly said 'speed' and checked the airspeed indicator to make sure the glider never crept below 55 knots.

The pace was still quickening but everything was going according to plan. After the final turn, trying very hard to keep it as coordinated as possible (no slip or skid), I checked that we were on a gentle overshoot trajectory and then opened the airbrakes just over half-way and lowered the nose a fraction to maintain speed. I was heading straight for my chosen reference point a third of the way into the runway at exactly 55 knots. At a height of about 1.5 elephants (the Glen Douglas method) I started to round-out and the glider settled more gently than usual onto the runway. I kept it straight and level until it rolled to a stop and then the left wingtip sank reluctantly onto the ground.

The Celebration

Do it Again

Half an hour later I took to the air again for a longer flight to 2,000 feet. I was hoping to find some wave and stay up a bit longer. I had much more time to explore the sky near Morven and the lochs, appreciating the gorgeous view. But the sky was cold and still with only a few burbles of 1-2 knots up and a few unwelcome patches of 5-7 knots down. I still had a fine time of it but sooner than I liked I returned to the earth again - and still in one piece. Then the drinks were most definitely on me. (Photo: posing afterwards in front of the clubhouse)

More About Going Solo

You can start gliding at any age but are not allowed to solo in the U.K. until you are 16 years old (but as young as 14 years old in some other countries like Holland and the USA).

How long does it take to go solo ? Everyone is different. It's like learning to drive but in three dimensions. Think how much the number of driving lessons varies for each person. Like driving, everyone needs to achieve and demonstrate a set of competencies, but the record of these competencies is normally more rigorous. Each competence is demonstrated: you then make sufficient attempts until your instructor signs you off. (Click here for a look at my training card - side 1 or side 2).

Different people quote different averages. For example the British Gliding Association (BGA) reckons that a typical student will need about 20 flights plus one flight for every year of their age. So a 35 year old might need about 55 flights and a 60 year old might need about 80 flights. I went solo a little under the average for my age, which I was quite pleased with as I encountered a few factors that I felt were slowing me down during training (see below).

The number of flights is usually a better measure of progress than the number of flying hours, as more flights means more takeoffs, circuits and landings which are the backbone of the solo check-flight. Since winch launches are lower and quicker, someone trained on a winch will usually have significantly more flights per hour than someone trained by aerotow.

A common complaint among leaners is the time it takes to acquire the required number of flights (or hours) due to the waiting-list system which can be quite lengthy on a good weekend when most people are only available to fly. On a busy sunny day you can turn up in mid-morning and wait until late afternoon to take your turn. Furthermore, if one weekend is rainy and another is 'booked' for other (e.g. family) commitments, before you know it three weeks may have passed without a flight. Such a lack of continuity can significantly extend the time to go solo.

But if you really want to learn to fly a glider you'll put up with the inevitable frustrations and be glad you did when the big day finally comes.

The main factors that can influence the time to go solo are as follows:

Training Factors

• Age: As usual, younger people (especially teenagers) usually learn faster than older folks. There's not a lot you can do about this except start earlier !
• Frequency of Flying: A fastest rate of progress will normally be achieved if the training is regular and largely uninterrupted, e.g. training 3-4 times a week with 2-3 flights each time for about a month might be sufficient to reach solo standard - i.e. about 30-40 flights. More sporadic practice will increase this. It can be difficult to fly regularly with the usual commitments of work and family - and poor weather like the "summer" of 1998. On a busy weekend day you might wait all day for your turn to fly, and only be in the air for fifteen minutes. But sometimes during the week you can turn up and find you're the only student there. It pays to persevere.
• Continuity of Instruction: Learning is smoother with the same instructor throughout. There are fewer overlaps in the training, no need to repeat the same competencies to different instructors (slowing the introduction of new competencies), and less chance of gaps appearing in your curriculum when one instructor assumes another has already covered something - but you haven't. At a small club with a rotating voluntary rota you might end up with more than five instructors. But it's a nice way to get to know the other club members. And sometimes the rare deficiencies of one instructor are avoided by covering any gaps with several instructors. And the inevitable contradictions between instructors can lead to entertaining discussions...
• Local Scenery: It's easier to learn at a gliding site in a flat area where there is a good reference horizon for aligning the glider - especially during turns. Mountainous regions also tend to suffer more from unstable air - which although good for soaring, also means a lot more turbulence. Deeside Gliding Club at Aboyne is in the foothills of the Grampian Mountains. Although it's a gorgeous place to fly, there is often reduced visibility and the undulating hills mean there is usually a poor or misleading reference horizon: e.g. as you turn towards a hill the effective horizon rises - which can suggest incorrectly to an inexperienced pilot that the glider is diving. Furthermore, in the circuit preparing to land you can often encounter spots of rapid sink or lift that need to be taken quickly into consideration. This all makes it more fun of course.
• The Weather: In order to develop accurate flying skills especially in the tow and circuit, and to allow the completion of the circuit and approach right down to a landing, you need decent weather. Poor weather e.g. being caught in rain or strong turbulence or strong crosswinds over the landing site can delay this. If the weather is rough, e.g. a gusty crosswind, you might spend another dozen flights waiting for the right opportunity to solo. The summer of 1998 was one of the worst in living memory with many unflyable days through mist, cloud or rain. Thankfully skin is waterproof. There were also many days with strong winds, including a persistent southerly crosswind preventing landing practice.
• Flight Duration: Is there enough time in the air at sufficient height to learn and demonstrate all the required competencies ? You need a decent number of longer (this usually means higher flights) to allow the perfection of manoeuvres like stall/spin recoveries. And long flights give you more time to settle on the controls and experiment better with their effects. With an aerotow you can choose a height typically between 1000 feet and 3000 feet. But in the summer of 1998 regular low cloud resulted in too many 1000 foot tows leading to flights of less than 10 minutes.
• Airfield Layout: Some gliding airfields are large open spaces - maybe just a big field - which always allow a landing into wind, or allow rather imprecise directional control. Learning to land in smaller / tighter airfields takes longer, although it sets you up better for the future. At Aboyne DGC, there are two short and very narrow E-W runways which require very accurate alignment. The ground on either side is very rough in places and could easily damage a glider. In fact, some solo or even advanced pilots visiting from other airfields have initially had trouble landing accurately at Aboyne.
• Student Aptitude: Is the student a 'natural' for learning the the attitudes and skills required for flying ? Some people take to it faster than others but in the end they can be equally competent. No comment !

There's no advantage in rushing to go solo with the bare minimum of experience - only for some unexpected event to really ruin your day. Safety is paramount. Take as long as you need and enjoy each flight. I read a report in Sailplane & Gliding about an elderly lady who had the courage to stick with it and finally went solo after more than 300 winch launches. On the other hand, I've seen some young and very capable students at Deeside Gliding Club going solo after only 30 or so aerotows.