…Finally! I have the 1-26 for the entire afternoon, and the weather conditions couldn't be more favorable! The atmosphere is definitely unstable, the cumulus clouds are growing right before my eyes, and the wind is light and out of the southwest. Maybe today will be the day to see if I can find and try to stay in some thermals, to prolong my time in the air beyond a simple sled ride glide down - to really soar - maybe even to gain some altitude for a change! Considering the circumstances, I decide to use my new handheld GPS to record whatever happens today.

Sweat is starting to soak the back of my shirt as I finish preflighting the glider. After activating the GPS unit, I reset its track log, and satisfied that all is in working order, I hang it from the chart pouch on the right side of the cockpit.

I hear the growl of the towplane behind me in the distance as it approaches for a landing. I turn to watch it flare and touchdown, wheels chirping softly. The end of the towrope dances and bounces lightly behind it. Coming to a smooth stop, the engine roars briefly, and then the towplane pivots and sidles off the edge of the runway into the grass, engine idling, to wait for the next launch.
    

"It's a hot one today isn't it?" a familiar voice beside me says. "Sure is," I agree as I shake Steve's outstretched hand.

"We found a big area of strong lift about a half hour ago slightly to the northeast of the mall," he continues. "The parking lots there are really cooking. You should have no trouble staying up this afternoon!"
 

"I hope you're right," I say, "it seems that all I ever find is sink."
 

"You'll do fine," he says encouragingly. "Just remember, where there's sink, there's lift! You just need to fly through the sink before you get to the lift…."

    He reaches into the chart pouch and pulls out a short loop of towrope and attaches it to the nose release hook. "Time's awastin'. If you're ready, get in, strap down, and we'll move you out to the runway," he says as he holds the nose of the 1-26 down for me. I step in, lower myself onto the seat and buckle the ends of the harness. I snug them tightly since there's likely to be strong turbulence today - at least I hope so!

With the help of John and Nancy, Steve pulls me onto the runway and over to the centerline. Above the roar of the approaching towplane, I hear Nancy yell, "Are you going to declare?"

"Declare what?" I ask after the towplane pivots onto the centerline, stops, and the engine throttles down.

"Declare for your B Badge," she says. "It's a pretty good day for it!"
I hadn't really thought about it, but she might be right…. "No, not today. I'm still practicing my turns and speed control in the 1-26. I'm not really good enough yet to say that I can stay up that long."

"Okay, no hurry," she says. "Ready for hookup?"
    

"Ready…" and we continue through the rest of the takeoff checklist. I wait until the last possible moment to close the canopy to delay the hothouse effect in the cockpit.
I glance again at the GPS to make sure it's on, check the canopy and my harness one more time, and signal Nancy that I'm ready for launch. She lifts my right wing, slightly above level in order to help me counteract the light crosswind showing on the distant windsock, and begins circling her flag.
    

I remind myself not to over-control this responsive sportster, and waggle the rudder once back and forth. Ken answers with a quick radio call, "Glider launch in progress runway two-eight, Grove City." Almost immediately we begin rolling, and as always, I'm amazed and delighted by how quickly the 1-26 lifts off, even in these warm temperatures. I crab a bit down the centerline to stay behind the towplane, and keep forward pressure on the stick to stay about five feet above the runway. Finally, the main wheels of the big yellow Call-Air break ground and we're smoothly climbing…100…200 feet….
    

Get ready…steady…there! As usual, there's turbulence at the west end of two-eight, and the towplane sinks, then bounds upward, and I follow likewise seconds later. Seems stronger than usual today though, and it doesn't show any signs of stopping as we continue climbing. I hear a faint tapping noise, and look at the variometer on the instrument panel. The needle is bouncing in time with the glider, and occasionally taps the upper limit pin. I grin to myself, and try to pull the harness straps tighter. Maybe I should have declared….
    

As we circle back to parallel the south side of the field, the turbulence diminishes somewhat, and I quickly glance down to see the 2-22 being moved off the runway. It must have landed just after we took off.

    More bounces and bumps, and my attention is immediately back on the towplane. We're still aligned, but its wheels are now above the horizon. I hear Noel's voice in my ears "…don't chase him, you'll be going through the same area in a few seconds…". Where did that come from? Certainly not the radio, and this is a single-seater! Weird…. Sure enough the towplane seems to drop and the glider and I are bounding upward. The needle on the vario is now stuck on the upper peg - 1000 feet (or more) per minute up! Just before I lose sight of the towplane beneath me, we come out of the lift and I gradually realign us. Man! Where was that? Another downward glance shows we're just east of the mall at 2000 feet. I should release here, but still being the cautious student, decide to stick with the plan and continue on to the 3000-foot altitude release point.

We bank to the right and head further to the south, still bouncing and bumping, though weakly now, and gradually reach 3000 feet. I yank firmly on the release knob, confirm we're away, and circle to the right - clearing for traffic.

All's clear and I point the nose toward that big thermal we went through, and adjust our speed to get over there as soon as possible. Has to be here somewhere...looks like we're nearly over the same spot...but no, nothing here now. Not even any sink! I do a few figure eights and cloverleaf patterns, but can't locate any more bumps. We're now down to 2000 feet and drifting away from the field on the stronger winds at altitude. I'll have to stop the search soon and return or I won't have enough altitude for landing other than making a straight-in approach, and I'm not ready for that, yet! Glumly, I head for the Initial Point for entry into the pattern, and with altitude to spare, I decide to practice my radio usage and spot landing technique.
 

Completing the landing checklist, I fumble with the handheld radio briefly in my left hand, then key the mike and speak the words I've practiced recently, "Grove City traffic, Schweizer glider Niner Two One Xray on left downwind for runway two-eight, Grove City".

Now to put down on the spot I've selected so we can re-launch without delay. Spoilers out halfway, turn to base…about...now. Add a bit more spoiler, watch that speed…good…good. Turn onto final approach earlier to compensate for crosswind drift, there! Speed good, straighten on the centerline, take off some spoiler, alignment good, speed good, here comes the spot. Wait…wait…a touch of the stick and there…touchdown! Spoilers full on, rudder, rudder, nose down, skid rasping, more spoiler to activate the brake…and…stop! Wings level…level…lean to the left, dropping…. Caught by Nancy!

I open the canopy, and unbuckle the harness in order to get out when I hear Noel say, "Stay put, we'll roll you off, and you'll be ready to go as soon as the towplane gets back!"
 

I look around, see my wife Joanne standing about where the 2-33 was parked before I launched, and wave to her.
"Steve took it up," Noel says as we roll to a stop in the brown grass beside the runway. "He's over there." I follow where he's pointing and see the 2-33 wheel into a turn off the northeast end of the field. "Looks like he's found something under that big cloud!" he says grinning. "How'd you do?"

"The usual," I say as Joanne walks over to us. "Lots of turbulent lift areas on tow, but nothing's there when I go back to them after release." I take a swig of water from the open bottle Jo offers to me, wipe the sweat off my face, and adjust my sunglasses.

"I'll tell Ken to take you out near Steve. Here he comes now," Noel announces as the familiar rumble of the towplane grows louder in the distance. "Are you ready to go again?" I nod my head, and re-buckle my harness. The GPS is still on, and Noel, Nancy, and big John pull me toward the runway once more as the towplane flashes past, stops, and circles back toward us.
    

Hooked up, canopy closed and locked, I waggle the rudder and we're off again. This time over the mall, we turn left, toward the north, instead of right, and off in the distance, just slightly below our altitude, I can see the 2-33's long majestic blue and white wings gleaming as they bank in the sunlight.
    

We're at 2500 feet…2700…2900…. Suddenly the vario pegs full up again, and I feel the familiar buoyant lifting sensation. I won't lose it this time! I quickly look right, then left, and pull the release. The towline twangs and recoils, and we're free and banking right. Sinking though, sinking!…. But be patient, that's what Steve said. Sink surrounds lift - can't have one without the other.
    

Keep turning, turning, this was the spot…. Yes, there! A swooshing sound and we're bobbling, burbling, bubbling upward! But we're nearly stalling, that's what the burbling and buffeting is! We're too slow! But why? Nose down, gain a little speed…there that's better, tighten the turn….
    

The relative wind! That's it! The angle of attack changed drastically in the updraft…. So…this is the delicate balance that's involved! We're bobbling like a cork in the surf! I'm continually adjusting the stick to maintain speed, pitch attitude and bank angle…. I look out at my wings, high and low, to check for traffic, bank angle and our location, and can't get over how they feel as if they're attached to my shoulders! Ahhgghh! Watch it! Too fast and shallow! The updraft spits us out, and now we're moving 600 feet per minute down instead of 600 up!