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Aviation History
1961
1961 - 0058.PDF
56 FLIGHT, 13 January 1961 ASCENT OF THE THE first world gliding record ever obtained in aBritish sailplane, and the first by a NewZealander, was achieved by S. H. "Dick" Georgeson on December 16. Subject to official con- firmation, he made a flight in his Slingsby Skylark 3f to 35,700ft—a gain of height of 34,300ft—in the famous North-West Arch, one of the world's biggest lenticular clouds, which forms over Christchurch in a north-west wind. For several years past Georgeson has been exploring this giant wave system, his previous best gain of height being 29,400ft. Philip Wills, who has written the following description of the flight from a letter received from Georgeson, comments that it is splendid to know that the New Zealander's pioneering work has now brought him the record which he so richly deserves. On the evening of December 15 the weather office forecast a westerly wind which would last for two days. Gerald Westenra drove in to Christchurch from Dunsandel, 30 miles away, and collected the Eagle. Georgeson left Christchurch at 4.15 a.m., towing his Skylark 3, and arrived at Dunsandel at 7.30. Warren Denton, the official observer, took a day off from his sheep-shearing to come and launch him. Both aircraft were rigged, oxygen aboard, barographs sealed, and at 8.30 a.m. the Eagle was aero-towed off on a 300km Gold C attempt. Shortly afterwards the Skylark was off on a 500km Diamond flight, but an hour and a half later both were back on the ground. At 1.50 p.m. Westenra went off again, closely followed by Georgeson. The Eagle came unstuck and landed away from the field. The Skylark was towed 10 miles to Hororata, and released at 3,200ft in a strong downcurrent. After much struggling, Georgeson contacted what is locally called "thermal wave." The technique for working this is to do two or three circles, after which the lift dies, then go forward to the same spot and wait for the next surge and circle again, and so on. The overall effect is a slow gain of height, which on this occasion brought Georgeson after an hour to 5,000ft. At this height he went quietly into weak, smooth wave lift, a delightful change after the violent surges of the lower air. Overhead the sky was completely overcast, with cloud base at 17,000ft rising to 19,000ft some 15 miles upwind over the Rakaia Gorge area. By now it was clear that Diamond distance was out, and altitude was very much in. He continued his climb to 25,000ft, and the air became white and opaque with so terrific a glare that it was difficult to see, but he realized that he was in the lee of a gigantic len- ticular which he knew formed part of the main North-West Arch. He forced ahead into wind at 100 m.p.h., through a downcurrent that brought him down to 9,500ft over Highbank—half-way to the leading edge of the big cloud—but here another wave took him up to 16,000ft, and forward again into the glorious sunshine ahead of the Arch, where he could look up at the mighty 16,000ft cliff of this gigantic lenticular. Here, extraordinarily enough, there was no lift in a three-mile band in front of it, so he flew back to the secondary wave over Highbank, climbed to cloud-base, and then went forward again just under cloud to the leading edge. Quietly and smoothly he began to rise, amongst the most stupendous cloud scene ever seen by man. In the accompanying photograph, which was taken by Georgeson from about 32,000ft, it is hard to believe that the depth of cloud is over three miles. Georgeson says he has never been so excited in his life. AH his attention was focussed on the a.s.i., oxygen blinker and the two variometers. Towards the top both variometers became misleading. With an external temperature of minus 50° the Cook showed no lift, while the Cosim kept sticking at 4-5ft/sec up which wasn't there. At maximum altitude the ailerons became very stiff and the canopy completely covered with ice, but otherwise the Skylark flew perfectly. He removed his oxygen mask to try to hear if the barograph was still ticking. It was fortunate that he had been in the decompression chamber at Wigram a few days before, for he now noticed his finger-nails becoming blue. Having recognized the onset of anoxia he replaced the mask quickly. On the way down odd patches of cirrus streamed in through minute crannies and filled the cockpit with white powder. Georgeson called up Harefield on his radio, told the controller what he had done, and was thrilled to receive his congratulations and a friendly "good-night." On landing back at the field, Westenra and Denton greeted him, the latter extracting from the Skylark, and guarding with his life, the large iced wedding-cake which the recording barograph had now become. Westenra had had bad luck in the Eagle. On his third attempt he encountered extreme turbulence, his straps were not tight enough, his head went through the canopy, and a subsequent gust blew a large part of it away completely. These big waves are not to be taken lightly. An hour later, the metal parts of the dismantled Skylark were still, in the warm summer air, covered with frost.
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