Flight

Blimey! I'm in the car park by 9:30. Climbed the hill, and off we go. Nice looking cumulus, in front too. One or two people make attempts to lob off, and go up briefly, then come down. Still, the day looks good. Take off. and get some gentle thermals, but land on the spur when they all go to pot. Later on, fly off, and lots of us start to do OK. Hugh Miller on top, everyone circling underneath. I S-turn until I can go round and round, and then round and round we go. Me on the Ares, Matt Pepper on his supertanker, and someone unidentified in a Sport 2, all with different thermalling styles. Really nice conditions, round and round and round until the world goes fuzzy at about 1200 above.That's the trouble with early - cloudbase comes early too. Never mind, while I bimble around at base, Matt and Co rush off on a glide, carefully marking all the sink for me. Uh, uh! I'm staying here chaps. Round and round... Stumble into a half up...that'll do me. Hang on in, this is Caburn, not Piedrahita. Gleefully drift over the Sussex countryside  watching suicide glides to Ringmer. Gloat factor 9, until I see Hugh in the distance, doing rather better than me. That does it! my epic one-up deteriorates, and I'm suddenly looking for ground sources. There's nothing as dispiriting as seeing 'height above takeoff' go negative... Nice looking concrete patch (lovely countryside, Sussex) provides some rough lift (Ooh er, is that half my wing not flying? Oops! And then a final glide to a nice field. Start walking back, with thumb stuck in 'for gawd's sake gimme a lift' position. Usual failure. Amazing how many huge estate car owners get blinkers when they see someone they could help, staggering down a road miles from civilisation. Bastards! Start phoning everyone. 'I'm out of the office' - yeah, I know that! You're on the ground in Ringmer! That very nice man Hairy Dave gives me a lift. What a nice man. Must buy him a beer.