Sutton Bank Gliding

I used to fly gliders. I eventually acquired this one, a Pik-20D, and flew competitions in it.

I commented recently, on another blog, about a course that I signed up to in Yorkshire one October. It was a less than great week.

I just thought I'd post it up here. Although everything sounds downbeat, I did laugh as I thought about it. The Youtube clip below is what I, and the other course members, had hoped to be doing.


Interested to be reminded of Sutton Bank and the mist. Long ago, I booked on a course at the gliding club that is atop the Bank. I arrived on the Sunday evening, and rose eagerly on the Monday for a week of of low level flying along the ridge. The clubhouse staff seemed rather subdued. I recalled that a few weeks previously, 2 gliders had collided in mid air, and the pilots, both local, had died. 

So, after breakfast, the 5 of us on the course went outside to prepare. Parachutes, pre-flight glider checks. The sky was very misty, but we reckoned it would burn off as the morning warmed up, and we'd soon be able to fly. 

The mist didn't burn off, and the weather didn't warm up. Each morning, I'd wake in my bunk, gaze through the window, hoping, hoping the sky would be clear. 

It never was. By late morning, as it became obvious that a day was not going to improve, we'd all disperse. The number of hours I spent trudging around cold, damp places like Thirsk. A coffee here, a coffee there... And I could feel a nose running, eye watering, sleeve wiping cold coming on.

And so, Thursday arrived. We all gathered together, and the instructor said... "Well, what do you think, guys, what do you want to do..?". 

I said... "I think I'd like to go home. I feel absolutely terrible.". 
Everybody else also wanted to go home. This Up North place wasn't at all like Sunny Hampshire.

I wasn't joking about feeling terrible, and after driving a few miles down the road, I was almost exhausted. I decided to plod slowly down the A1 in my Porsche. Quite a big change from the usual commute up the M3, into the outer lane, and stay there at about 90mph, like all the other rat-racers.

Anyway, I managed the 25 miles to Wetherby, and landed on the doorstep of my sister's home. The next 4 or 5 days being looked after, hot soup, solicitations etc.. 

Yes, I remember Sutton Bank, in 1987.
And the small matter of..., while I was there, incommunicado, Black Monday of 19th October, the London stock market had crashed.
About £30,000 worth of my investments evaporated in the space of a few hours.
Unlike the mist.