But seriously, if you want to try a points meet, especially Nationals, there are a few things you will want to consider to best prepare for it. Preparation itself is the key thing. We did pretty well with retrieval—we had a dedicated driver, a good radio, and a GPS in the vehicle. We bought good maps, and marked all the meet turnpoints and goals in highlighter. The DeLorme maps seem to be the best compromise between ease of use and most information. At least one retrieval crew was using the full-blown DeLorme CD-ROM map live on a laptop, with a GPS plugged into it. Take a day to drive around the likely flying routes. We saved at least two hairy retrieves by the mere fact of both the pilot and driver having been to a spot before, and having a common sense of how to get there.
The best pilots could often finish a task in a matter of an hour or two. Doesn’t seem so bad. But remember, this means schlubs like us can take up to 4 hours or more. Are you ready to fly that much every day for a week? If not, then most likely you won’t fly that long, because you’ll be bombing out due to fatigue or mistakes added to by fatigue.
Eat well, sleep well, drink well. We didn’t necessarily eat the best, doing the traditional Fat Bastard Breakfast every day, with only fruit or granola bars for lunch. Dinner was often not until 9 PM, depending on how far we got, and how long it took to get everyone back. My back still hurts from sleeping on the ground for two weeks. I drank at least a gallon of fluids a day, and always took at least an additional quart with me for after landing.
We all had radio problems during the trip, which just adds to the elements of distraction. If you don’t know where your driver is, or vice versa, it’s hard to concentrate on flying out into the badlands. Even other people’s radio problems can be a distraction, on your frequency. Bring tools, including a soldering iron and multimeter. Bring a flat fixing kit, even a 12V compressor pump. And don’t forget the duct tape.
Don’t expect to learn how to use something during the comp. This goes for radios, varios, GPS’s, cameras, even harnesses and gliders. Our various radio problems were partially due to new, unfamiliar equipment. Greg lost at least nine places for his score on the first day, simply due to unfamiliarity with his new camera. Sure, I was jealous of Rick and Greg’s new gliders—and the final best 16 places were topless gliders. But when I was flying my K5 (which was the only one there, not counting a Klassic or two) with 30 other gliders in a gaggle, I was happy that I knew what my glider could/would do, and what I could expect to be able to do in it. I was actually climbing as well as anybody, and only got left behind on glides. I attribute at least part of that to the 4 years I have on this glider.
This ain’t no party; this ain’t no disco. This ain’t no foolin’ around. Well, it is a vacation in the sense that most of us have to leave a real job to go compete, and return to the real job. In no other sense, will it be a vacation—unless you opt for complete Leisure Class attitudes. Competition is not relaxing. It is not fun for non-pilots either, both because of the massive hang waiting, and the effects of the stress of the comp on the pilot. I don’t think it is realistic to expect to do as well as the ‘professionals’—i.e., the folks who fly in every comp.
Gaggle flying is serious business. You have to have eyes in the back of your head. You have to be able to climb at least as well as the next guy, and preferably better. The only way to survive this is to truly be able to thermal in both directions equally well. Expect to be limited to only one turn direction within a mile of the launch on any given day. Even out on course, on entering a thermal with other gliders already circling, you must adopt their direction. Of course launching and just plain getting up in thermals are assumed. There’s no one there to hold your hand, no one to tell you ‘this is not a launchable cycle’ or ‘don’t thermal back there.’ You have to bring that knowledge, that judgement with you. A guy died at King Mountain, forgetting that. Err on the side of caution; leave yourself a way out.
A comp is a great place to test your limits—but first, have a reasonable idea what your limits are. Know enough about speeds-to-fly to know how to get out of situations, how to fly upwind, how to estimate the size and location of rotors. Know the XC basics: how to choose an LZ, how to determine wind direction on the ground, how to set up an approach. Every flight has a landing, give yourself time to make it right.
If all this sounds negative, it isn’t. It’s merely realistic. It’s easy to be disappointed, easy to be challenged to your limits and shown your place by the conditions. But with the proper preparation, both physical and mental, comp flying can be one of the most rewarding experiences in hang gliding.
You might even Not Suck.
Text and photos © 1997, Phammer