Joe G Accident Report
Moderator: CHGPA BOD
Joe G Accident Report
Joe Gregor asked that I post this for him.
Three and a half months ago I piled in on landing in the Woodstock LZ. I am still in the process of healing, and chances are good that I’ll never regain full use of my left wrist. I’ve had nothing much left over after doing what’s required to keep up at work, so this week at the beach is my first chance write this up. It won’t be an analytical report.
This accident marks my complete transition from professional to recreational pilot. I started out setting conservative ops limits for what I would trust myself and my aircraft could do; and sticking to that criterion regardless of my desire to fly. I spent fifteen years expanding those limits and over time, without even realizing it, I began to transition from trying to judge what was normal and prudent, toward judging what was doable and possible. This is the mind-set that makes for spectacular flights if you are good (and lucky), and spectacular accidents if you are not.
I had decided to make an effort to start flying the mountains on a more regular basis this year. Flew Valle de Bravo in February and had a great time. Last weekend in April I copped a ride with Batman to Woodstock. The Talon was hangered at Highland, so I took Janet’s Falcon 195. Forgot to look for the big old KHK sand wheels we had buried in the basement somewhere. Didn’t think twice about setting up anyway. Should have.
Forecast was a little strong but not horrible, and given the tendency for Woodstock to be significantly lighter than forecast, I decided to go and fly if conditions became appropriate. Arrived around noon to strong thermal conditions and winds at launch; reports of frightening rowdyness at 1000 over. People low on the ridge looked to be getting their asses kicked (even as they reported having great fun). A highly experienced pilot had just blown his launch a little earlier. Not my idea of fun. I pushed the 7 battens required to set up and prepared for a long wait.
By 4:30 or so things started to back off at launch. Conditions aloft were reported to be civilized. I went to the car and goofed with the camelback, etc.; standard Joe Gregor procrastination stuff. Should have procrastinated more. Got back to launch and it was looking quite nice: straight in at about 10. Suited up and had a picture perfect launch sometime between 5-5:30 pm. No weirdness at all coming out of the slot. Smooth lift up to a couple hundred over. Conditions seemed fine. I kept an eye on the GPS, stayed well out front and below 1000 over so as to avoid any high wind issues. GPS said it was blowing 10-13 aloft.
I was so fixated on the launch conditions that I spent too little time considering the LZ. After all, I land every time I fly. I go XC a fair amount. It was the foot launch that I was non-current on. This oversight was about to bite me big time. Less than 20 minutes after launching I noticed that I was backing up on the ridge - arms-locked. Airspeed indicator said 35 mph. GPS said 4 mph. A radio call brought back the report that it was now blowing stink at launch. Not good. My plan to stay on the ridge an hour or two as necessary and land in smoother end of day conditions was blown. I wasn’t about to point with arms locked in a Falcon 195 for God knows how long, hoping that things didn’t pick up further. I penetrated out to the main LZ hoping to get rescued by a lift line that would give me a glide to the Bridge field and perhaps beyond. No way, not in a Falcon going full bore. I was committed to the main LZ.
I kept going forward in hope until I had to turn downwind to land in the main LZ. In the field just upwind of the LZ, I could see the trees were going ape-shit. Great. Set up for a left base to land uphill into the prevailing wind; arms locked to get down before all that nonsense hit. It seemed to be working. Turned base high and reasonably early to avoid being blown outside of the field, planning on S-turns across base as required. In retrospect, I should have expected to hover 90 degrees straight down. Didn’t much matter; how close did I want to be to the upwind treeline in these conditions, anyway? Shortly after rolling out on final I found myself in an uncommanded right turn. I camped out on the left side of the bar as the glider went through 180 degrees of right turn. At this point I decided I might as well go with, and switched to full right input. By the time I rolled back out on a westerly heading I was on the wrong side of the lower treeline separating the river from the LZ, and out over the river. I made a stab for the LZ while assessing my less desirable options (plant it in the treeline and hope to stick, else fly down the river and hope to plant it on the shoreline somewhere). As, it turned out I was actually able to clear the tree line with a larger margin than I expected.
Inside the field, I picked a line up the hill for my final approach, wanting badly to get down ASAP before the nonsense I saw upwind hit the LZ. The next thing I recall was pushing out while still prone because the ground had arrived; looking up at the windsock and seeing it blowing from something close due south; glancing at the corner bracket and remembering that I had no wheels on this glider, and noting that I was going freakin’ fast. I thought about letting go on impact, but obviously didn’t pull it off. At this point the flight was over. Ended up sitting against the single broken (right) downtube, flopping my right arm into back into place. Quickly discovered something was wrong with the left wrist, also. Unable to unzip or raise anyone on the radio, I waited until those in the LZ figured out something was wrong. Carlos and others helped (thanks so much, guys) call 911 and get me to the hospital for 4 surgeries (two of which have ended up in abject failure as the wrist will need to be rebroken and grafted or else partially fused, and those are two of the hopeful outcomes).
Lest anyone fall into the trap of guessing wrong, I’ll tell you the probable cause right now: I launched. The lesson learned here is one of failed decision-making. Lots of people flew earlier that day - several on single surface gliders landing in the main LZ. All ended the day without injury. I wasn’t so lucky, and lucky is what many others were that day. Perhaps I could have pulled off the landing if I had flown faster on final (assuming I wasn’t already bar-stuffed, I honestly don’t remember), or done an S-turn approach from altitude vs a DBF. Perhaps I could have waled away from this fiasco if after getting spat out of the field I had chosen to stick the glider on a piece of river shoreline, or into a nice bushy tree, instead of making a stab for the LZ. I may have reduced my injuries if I had remembered to grab the sand wheels, or somehow manager to get upright before the crash (although the fact that my parchute pocket got blown open on the Tracer speaks to the severity of the impact). For that matter, I may well have landed without incident if only I had started the approach 120 seconds earlier… or later, and we would even be talking about this now. So what?
The point is that I should never have put myself in the position where I had to be a legendary pilot flying a perfect approach, in conditions that were right at (and quite possibly beyond) the capabilities of my aircraft, just to walk away from the experience intact and unbroken. I failed to see some of the warning signs, like the fact that the clouds out front looked unchanged in character even thought the winds at launch had changed significantly, and like the reports of strong conditions in the LZ and in the air earlier. I made poor assumptions, like the one that winds on the ground and conditions in the LZ would continue to calm down as the evening progressed. And I failed to appreciate the limitations of the craft I was flying, in particular the severely limited glide at speed that would force me to land in an undesirable LZ if the winds were to pick up dramatically after I launched. I became overconfident in my abilities, failed to maintain a decent safety margin, placed myself in a position where I had no good backup option, and wasn’t lucky enough (or was a bit too unlucky) this time around to walk away from the results.
Three and a half months ago I piled in on landing in the Woodstock LZ. I am still in the process of healing, and chances are good that I’ll never regain full use of my left wrist. I’ve had nothing much left over after doing what’s required to keep up at work, so this week at the beach is my first chance write this up. It won’t be an analytical report.
This accident marks my complete transition from professional to recreational pilot. I started out setting conservative ops limits for what I would trust myself and my aircraft could do; and sticking to that criterion regardless of my desire to fly. I spent fifteen years expanding those limits and over time, without even realizing it, I began to transition from trying to judge what was normal and prudent, toward judging what was doable and possible. This is the mind-set that makes for spectacular flights if you are good (and lucky), and spectacular accidents if you are not.
I had decided to make an effort to start flying the mountains on a more regular basis this year. Flew Valle de Bravo in February and had a great time. Last weekend in April I copped a ride with Batman to Woodstock. The Talon was hangered at Highland, so I took Janet’s Falcon 195. Forgot to look for the big old KHK sand wheels we had buried in the basement somewhere. Didn’t think twice about setting up anyway. Should have.
Forecast was a little strong but not horrible, and given the tendency for Woodstock to be significantly lighter than forecast, I decided to go and fly if conditions became appropriate. Arrived around noon to strong thermal conditions and winds at launch; reports of frightening rowdyness at 1000 over. People low on the ridge looked to be getting their asses kicked (even as they reported having great fun). A highly experienced pilot had just blown his launch a little earlier. Not my idea of fun. I pushed the 7 battens required to set up and prepared for a long wait.
By 4:30 or so things started to back off at launch. Conditions aloft were reported to be civilized. I went to the car and goofed with the camelback, etc.; standard Joe Gregor procrastination stuff. Should have procrastinated more. Got back to launch and it was looking quite nice: straight in at about 10. Suited up and had a picture perfect launch sometime between 5-5:30 pm. No weirdness at all coming out of the slot. Smooth lift up to a couple hundred over. Conditions seemed fine. I kept an eye on the GPS, stayed well out front and below 1000 over so as to avoid any high wind issues. GPS said it was blowing 10-13 aloft.
I was so fixated on the launch conditions that I spent too little time considering the LZ. After all, I land every time I fly. I go XC a fair amount. It was the foot launch that I was non-current on. This oversight was about to bite me big time. Less than 20 minutes after launching I noticed that I was backing up on the ridge - arms-locked. Airspeed indicator said 35 mph. GPS said 4 mph. A radio call brought back the report that it was now blowing stink at launch. Not good. My plan to stay on the ridge an hour or two as necessary and land in smoother end of day conditions was blown. I wasn’t about to point with arms locked in a Falcon 195 for God knows how long, hoping that things didn’t pick up further. I penetrated out to the main LZ hoping to get rescued by a lift line that would give me a glide to the Bridge field and perhaps beyond. No way, not in a Falcon going full bore. I was committed to the main LZ.
I kept going forward in hope until I had to turn downwind to land in the main LZ. In the field just upwind of the LZ, I could see the trees were going ape-shit. Great. Set up for a left base to land uphill into the prevailing wind; arms locked to get down before all that nonsense hit. It seemed to be working. Turned base high and reasonably early to avoid being blown outside of the field, planning on S-turns across base as required. In retrospect, I should have expected to hover 90 degrees straight down. Didn’t much matter; how close did I want to be to the upwind treeline in these conditions, anyway? Shortly after rolling out on final I found myself in an uncommanded right turn. I camped out on the left side of the bar as the glider went through 180 degrees of right turn. At this point I decided I might as well go with, and switched to full right input. By the time I rolled back out on a westerly heading I was on the wrong side of the lower treeline separating the river from the LZ, and out over the river. I made a stab for the LZ while assessing my less desirable options (plant it in the treeline and hope to stick, else fly down the river and hope to plant it on the shoreline somewhere). As, it turned out I was actually able to clear the tree line with a larger margin than I expected.
Inside the field, I picked a line up the hill for my final approach, wanting badly to get down ASAP before the nonsense I saw upwind hit the LZ. The next thing I recall was pushing out while still prone because the ground had arrived; looking up at the windsock and seeing it blowing from something close due south; glancing at the corner bracket and remembering that I had no wheels on this glider, and noting that I was going freakin’ fast. I thought about letting go on impact, but obviously didn’t pull it off. At this point the flight was over. Ended up sitting against the single broken (right) downtube, flopping my right arm into back into place. Quickly discovered something was wrong with the left wrist, also. Unable to unzip or raise anyone on the radio, I waited until those in the LZ figured out something was wrong. Carlos and others helped (thanks so much, guys) call 911 and get me to the hospital for 4 surgeries (two of which have ended up in abject failure as the wrist will need to be rebroken and grafted or else partially fused, and those are two of the hopeful outcomes).
Lest anyone fall into the trap of guessing wrong, I’ll tell you the probable cause right now: I launched. The lesson learned here is one of failed decision-making. Lots of people flew earlier that day - several on single surface gliders landing in the main LZ. All ended the day without injury. I wasn’t so lucky, and lucky is what many others were that day. Perhaps I could have pulled off the landing if I had flown faster on final (assuming I wasn’t already bar-stuffed, I honestly don’t remember), or done an S-turn approach from altitude vs a DBF. Perhaps I could have waled away from this fiasco if after getting spat out of the field I had chosen to stick the glider on a piece of river shoreline, or into a nice bushy tree, instead of making a stab for the LZ. I may have reduced my injuries if I had remembered to grab the sand wheels, or somehow manager to get upright before the crash (although the fact that my parchute pocket got blown open on the Tracer speaks to the severity of the impact). For that matter, I may well have landed without incident if only I had started the approach 120 seconds earlier… or later, and we would even be talking about this now. So what?
The point is that I should never have put myself in the position where I had to be a legendary pilot flying a perfect approach, in conditions that were right at (and quite possibly beyond) the capabilities of my aircraft, just to walk away from the experience intact and unbroken. I failed to see some of the warning signs, like the fact that the clouds out front looked unchanged in character even thought the winds at launch had changed significantly, and like the reports of strong conditions in the LZ and in the air earlier. I made poor assumptions, like the one that winds on the ground and conditions in the LZ would continue to calm down as the evening progressed. And I failed to appreciate the limitations of the craft I was flying, in particular the severely limited glide at speed that would force me to land in an undesirable LZ if the winds were to pick up dramatically after I launched. I became overconfident in my abilities, failed to maintain a decent safety margin, placed myself in a position where I had no good backup option, and wasn’t lucky enough (or was a bit too unlucky) this time around to walk away from the results.
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Joe,
I am so terribly sorry you were hurt and so terribly grateful you are here to write your report. You have been a positive influence on the sport of hang gliding and on many of us personally-- including me. One example? If it weren't for you, I never would have gotten to fly High Rock. THAT was a gift you gave to many of us. I don't know if that launch would have ever been reopened for flying without your efforts.
Keep healing; what a long road you've tread! I'm smiling, thinking of you and when we all went cosmic bowling, or the times we got drunk-- I mean, sampled different beers -- at your Halloween party. And of course, all the flying. I hope you're back soon.
Lauren
I am so terribly sorry you were hurt and so terribly grateful you are here to write your report. You have been a positive influence on the sport of hang gliding and on many of us personally-- including me. One example? If it weren't for you, I never would have gotten to fly High Rock. THAT was a gift you gave to many of us. I don't know if that launch would have ever been reopened for flying without your efforts.
Keep healing; what a long road you've tread! I'm smiling, thinking of you and when we all went cosmic bowling, or the times we got drunk-- I mean, sampled different beers -- at your Halloween party. And of course, all the flying. I hope you're back soon.
Lauren
Joe - according to standard pilot lore I really don't see how you could have suspected the winds would pick up again. 95% of the time they do continue to calm down towards dusk. Yet as you imply our conventional wisdom and operating procedures may be flawed.
Perhaps the clouds not changing were the telltale, and if so it's something we need to work into the community knowledge. When I went in at High Rock, Sparky had misgivings even before I launched because there was a stronger than usual gradient from launch to valley, and the winds aloft were very strong. Judging from these two incidents it seems likely that when the winds aloft are dangerously strong we should not fly no matter what's happening on launch. Winds aloft do not die down in the evening.
It would cramp our standard operating style at woodstock, but a bad landing does worse. I may be too dense to learn from my own experience, but thanks to you thunking me over the head again I will no longer head out the door if I see winds aloft over 35 mph. Maybe that's a tad conservative, but over 40 I'm definitely firing up the VCR.
Perhaps the clouds not changing were the telltale, and if so it's something we need to work into the community knowledge. When I went in at High Rock, Sparky had misgivings even before I launched because there was a stronger than usual gradient from launch to valley, and the winds aloft were very strong. Judging from these two incidents it seems likely that when the winds aloft are dangerously strong we should not fly no matter what's happening on launch. Winds aloft do not die down in the evening.
It would cramp our standard operating style at woodstock, but a bad landing does worse. I may be too dense to learn from my own experience, but thanks to you thunking me over the head again I will no longer head out the door if I see winds aloft over 35 mph. Maybe that's a tad conservative, but over 40 I'm definitely firing up the VCR.
Brian Vant-Hull
Joe
Thanks for posting such a detailed and thoughtful report. You have given us plenty to think about.
I am also very sorry that you are not healing as well as we had hoped. Hang in there. I read somewhere that "Everything works out fine in the end. If things are not fine, its not the end."
Take care
Tom McGowan
Thanks for posting such a detailed and thoughtful report. You have given us plenty to think about.
I am also very sorry that you are not healing as well as we had hoped. Hang in there. I read somewhere that "Everything works out fine in the end. If things are not fine, its not the end."
Take care
Tom McGowan
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I would pick a number far below 35 mph. I would not have ventured out to fly any type of hang glider on a forecast that strong, certainly not a Falcon. The ADDS TAFs called for winds aloft to back down to 15 knots that day. The gust factor was maybe 5 mph on the ground. It was not a braindead blownout forecast. As far as launch conditions were concerned, I was getting to launch as the PG guys were starting to get their stuff on. There was potential for it to be a reasonable day, and other people were doing it - that is how you get sucked in.
Whatever I encountered, I think had as much if not more to do with it being a strong spring day than it did being high winds aloft. I should have done a better job recognizing the dangers there. Hang gliders are truly light air machines, as I've said many times, and we tend to fly them in anything but light air in order to stay up and go far. That goes as well for Texas in August as it does for a windy day at Woodstock. Repeated success at getting away with it in one venue reinforces risk taking in all others. I'm now the poster child for that one.
-- Joe
I would have gone out on the Talon
Whatever I encountered, I think had as much if not more to do with it being a strong spring day than it did being high winds aloft. I should have done a better job recognizing the dangers there. Hang gliders are truly light air machines, as I've said many times, and we tend to fly them in anything but light air in order to stay up and go far. That goes as well for Texas in August as it does for a windy day at Woodstock. Repeated success at getting away with it in one venue reinforces risk taking in all others. I'm now the poster child for that one.
-- Joe
I would have gone out on the Talon
brianvh wrote:Joe - according to standard pilot lore I really don't see how you could have suspected the winds would pick up again. 95% of the time they do continue to calm down towards dusk. Yet as you imply our conventional wisdom and operating procedures may be flawed.
Perhaps the clouds not changing were the telltale, and if so it's something we need to work into the community knowledge. When I went in at High Rock, Sparky had misgivings even before I launched because there was a stronger than usual gradient from launch to valley, and the winds aloft were very strong. Judging from these two incidents it seems likely that when the winds aloft are dangerously strong we should not fly no matter what's happening on launch. Winds aloft do not die down in the evening.
It would cramp our standard operating style at woodstock, but a bad landing does worse. I may be too dense to learn from my own experience, but thanks to you thunking me over the head again I will no longer head out the door if I see winds aloft over 35 mph. Maybe that's a tad conservative, but over 40 I'm definitely firing up the VCR.
Joe G.
The doctor at Woodstock did an outstanding job on me. She is actually known by the best hand surgeon in the city, who is scheduled to try and save my wrist soon. The problem sits squarely with my HMO, which did zero follow up on my wrist after the accident.
-- Joe
-- Joe
Flying Lobster wrote:Was the wrist operated on at the hospital in Woodstock? I think I remember some years ago another pilot ran into the fence at Woodstock, got busted up and also had a faulty operation there--I believe eventually resulting in a very complicated recovery/correction.
marc
Joe G.
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I stand corrected--tho I'm pretty sure about the guy who got messed up at the hospital there.air_medal wrote:The doctor at Woodstock did an outstanding job on me. She is actually known by the best hand surgeon in the city, who is scheduled to try and save my wrist soon. The problem sits squarely with my HMO, which did zero follow up on my wrist after the accident.
-- Joe
Flying Lobster wrote:Was the wrist operated on at the hospital in Woodstock? I think I remember some years ago another pilot ran into the fence at Woodstock, got busted up and also had a faulty operation there--I believe eventually resulting in a very complicated recovery/correction.
marc
BTW--I've never bought into "the big muffler in the sky theory" that draws many pilots to Woodstock on windy days--tho I'm certainly as guilty as anyone for flying there on higher wind days. I've seen Nelson Lewis bag it more than once while the rest of us piled off in droves. This is a general observation--not necessarily a comment on the accident day.
The older I get the more profound the effects of currency are on my abilities. A combination of declining airtime and "out of shape" physical condition force me more often to adjust the bar up or down on what I will comfortably fly in. I find that landing in particular requires sharpness in awareness and the ability to adjust rapidly to sudden changes. It's that old pilot judgment thing.
marc
Great Googly-moo!
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You pilot boys are always talking about muffs or mufflers or something. You even think there's one in the sky. It must be a man thing.
Hey, on a more serious note (you didn't think the above was serious, did you???) although I think Joe has been brutally honest about his own part in his accident, I also think that he has been brutally hard on himself. No, I'm not being nice; I really believe that his decisions weren't radical. That he would worry about his launch (since he hadn't footlaunched in awhile) and not his landing (even if he's not perfect, he's pretty good, and he was flying a Falcon, and he usually flies a topless which is miles harder to land, or at least miles less forgiving if you screw it up) is perfectly reasonable. Even in retrospect.
Whenever I have been hurt badly, it helps me to believe that my own actions have played a large part in bringing me to that point-- perhaps because I feel I can control my destiny NEXT TIME if I am just a little smarter or more skilled or more prudent. And, it may well often be true. Joe should be commended for his honesty (and he has been, in this forum).
But hey -- forgive yourself, too, Joe. I know it must be hard whenever you look at your wrist. You weren't some crazy yahoo. You were -- and are-- Joe Gregor, good pilot, good guy, with good judgement. Your sins are few.
Lauren
Hey, on a more serious note (you didn't think the above was serious, did you???) although I think Joe has been brutally honest about his own part in his accident, I also think that he has been brutally hard on himself. No, I'm not being nice; I really believe that his decisions weren't radical. That he would worry about his launch (since he hadn't footlaunched in awhile) and not his landing (even if he's not perfect, he's pretty good, and he was flying a Falcon, and he usually flies a topless which is miles harder to land, or at least miles less forgiving if you screw it up) is perfectly reasonable. Even in retrospect.
Whenever I have been hurt badly, it helps me to believe that my own actions have played a large part in bringing me to that point-- perhaps because I feel I can control my destiny NEXT TIME if I am just a little smarter or more skilled or more prudent. And, it may well often be true. Joe should be commended for his honesty (and he has been, in this forum).
But hey -- forgive yourself, too, Joe. I know it must be hard whenever you look at your wrist. You weren't some crazy yahoo. You were -- and are-- Joe Gregor, good pilot, good guy, with good judgement. Your sins are few.
Lauren
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Joe is defenitely a beloved comrade and I believe he is sincere in what he says--and my comments are not so much about his accident in particular but rather a generic comment on flying at Woodstock in strong and/or changeable conditions.
Woodstock is the only site I've ever been blown over the back from--and it has by far the most frequent accident rate in both launches and landings of any region 9 site that I know of. Part of that, I believe, is due to the popular notion that it is somehow going to blow less there than any other local sites when the forecast is for higher winds. I believe that due to a variety of reasons it may offer an easier way into the air than other launches--but you'll still need to be ready to deal with higher winds if they do increase--as they often do. In a strong wind, especially with some cross in it, the main lz can be a washing machine loaded with bowling balls.
marc
Woodstock is the only site I've ever been blown over the back from--and it has by far the most frequent accident rate in both launches and landings of any region 9 site that I know of. Part of that, I believe, is due to the popular notion that it is somehow going to blow less there than any other local sites when the forecast is for higher winds. I believe that due to a variety of reasons it may offer an easier way into the air than other launches--but you'll still need to be ready to deal with higher winds if they do increase--as they often do. In a strong wind, especially with some cross in it, the main lz can be a washing machine loaded with bowling balls.
marc
Great Googly-moo!
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The topography is the muffler
Marc,
The muffling effect that you mention is a phenomenon that I coined way back in 1997 the "Woodstock Gradient Effect (WGE for short)". I was mystified by listening to the NOAA weather stations reporting Winchester's conditions back in March of 1997 as gusting up to 28 MPH, and hearing from Geoff Mumford that it was 10 to 15 at launch and not bad aloft above the Woodstock launch when he flew that very day. This pattern repeated itself, and I theorized that the topography directly upwind of the Woodstock launch was higher and "shadowed" the local area. A look at the relief maps of the areas confirmed my suspicion, with the topography over the WV border at 3K to 4K MSL, and Woodstock launch is at 1900' MSL. This "gradient effect" draws pilots to Woodstock when the forecast is NW 15 to 25 MPH.
There are a few instances where the effect is absent. On very unstable days the shadowing effect is negated. Upper-level disturbances passing through the local area can mix up the atmosphere enough to bring higher winds down to launch level. Deep lows spinning in place over the Canadian maritimes with a tremendous pressure gradient will blow out Woodstock.
But if the weather pattern is a garden variety cold front passage and a typical high pressure behind the front, breezy conditions usually follow and chances are the effect will be present.
Bacil
The muffling effect that you mention is a phenomenon that I coined way back in 1997 the "Woodstock Gradient Effect (WGE for short)". I was mystified by listening to the NOAA weather stations reporting Winchester's conditions back in March of 1997 as gusting up to 28 MPH, and hearing from Geoff Mumford that it was 10 to 15 at launch and not bad aloft above the Woodstock launch when he flew that very day. This pattern repeated itself, and I theorized that the topography directly upwind of the Woodstock launch was higher and "shadowed" the local area. A look at the relief maps of the areas confirmed my suspicion, with the topography over the WV border at 3K to 4K MSL, and Woodstock launch is at 1900' MSL. This "gradient effect" draws pilots to Woodstock when the forecast is NW 15 to 25 MPH.
There are a few instances where the effect is absent. On very unstable days the shadowing effect is negated. Upper-level disturbances passing through the local area can mix up the atmosphere enough to bring higher winds down to launch level. Deep lows spinning in place over the Canadian maritimes with a tremendous pressure gradient will blow out Woodstock.
But if the weather pattern is a garden variety cold front passage and a typical high pressure behind the front, breezy conditions usually follow and chances are the effect will be present.
Bacil
The "Woodstock Effect" is definitely real. I've enjoyed many flights
there on days when surface winds at Martinsburg, Winchester, and
Hagerstown have been reported at 25 to 30.
Really. Not "talked myself into it" enjoyment, but actual fun flying.
On the other hand, I've also had a flights at Woodstock for which
the effect did not materialize, and the flying was not fun.
For some of those flights, the sky looked strong (wave) and the
conditions in-flight matched.
But there have also been days when the sky has looked just as strong,
but the flying turned out to be great.
Bottom line: While the effect is real, it's not guaranteed. By choosing
to fly at Woodstock on a strong day, you are assuming a higher
level
of risk. Maybe that risk is worth the reward... Or maybe it's not.
Depends on your comfort level in strong air, what you are flying, how current
you are, what you expect to 'get' out of flying that day, etc.
And make no mistake: Even if you are flying the hottest ship out there,
you can still get burned if conditions change. The sky can be a fickle place.
MarkC
there on days when surface winds at Martinsburg, Winchester, and
Hagerstown have been reported at 25 to 30.
Really. Not "talked myself into it" enjoyment, but actual fun flying.
On the other hand, I've also had a flights at Woodstock for which
the effect did not materialize, and the flying was not fun.
For some of those flights, the sky looked strong (wave) and the
conditions in-flight matched.
But there have also been days when the sky has looked just as strong,
but the flying turned out to be great.
Bottom line: While the effect is real, it's not guaranteed. By choosing
to fly at Woodstock on a strong day, you are assuming a higher
level
of risk. Maybe that risk is worth the reward... Or maybe it's not.
Depends on your comfort level in strong air, what you are flying, how current
you are, what you expect to 'get' out of flying that day, etc.
And make no mistake: Even if you are flying the hottest ship out there,
you can still get burned if conditions change. The sky can be a fickle place.
MarkC
Joe, you have my utmost respect and gratitude for your support of the USHPA and CHGPA. My heart aches to hear of your struggles, and I'm praying your wrist will be restored to a better state. I had a similar experience in '89 while landing with an unexpected tailwind and it almost cost me the loss of use of my left hand. I was out of action for many months.
The remaining comments are for the entire readership:
WS is a beautiful site with amazing potential ... but I've encountered some of the rattiest air there, in my (31 year, 105 site) flying career. Both in the LZ, and in the air (during wave days).
I've accepted the post of 'Safety Director' for our club (RMHPA) here in CO. We have had three paragliding fatalities this year, so I have given much thought recently to the subject of safety ... and risk management.
I normally don't post opinions, but I feel like it is a worthwhile thing, so here goes ...
If any of y'all hasn't read Michael Robertson's "The Art of Skysailing - A Risk Management Manual for Hang Gliding", I strongly recommend getting a copy and re-reading it at least once annually (like just before spring ).
It provides an excellent methodology for understanding/assessing the elements of risk on a particular day/site and using the assessment to make the Fly/No fly decision.
Many of you may already know this stuff, but I'll spit it out anyway.
Safety is all about trying to accurately understand and assess risks, minimize risks, and ... accepting the residual risk. It absolutely requires one to be objective and honest with ourselves . Problem is, it is impossible to be completely objective.
The key point I'm trying to make is that there is no guarantee that we've assessed the risk accurately. We don't know what we don't know (i.e. the residual risk) and that is what will (eventually) bite us in the butts.
Note the use of the word 'eventually'. That may be a bit disturbing to many, but I have to say it because I believe it is a fact. If you fly long enough, you will eventually have a grievious experience.
It is a serious mistake for one to believe they have the 'recipe' for saftey, or to develop the belief that their judgement will always save them from good old-fashioned and omnipresent 'bad luck'.
IMO 'bad luck' is simply due to our lack of ability to be omniscient. Can't escape it. Might as well accept that risk right up front. We try, but we are not really 'in control'.
I agree that choosing not to fly is the only way to eliminate risk completely ... and as I've said before: I've tried , but I just can't quit.
Peace to y'all
The remaining comments are for the entire readership:
WS is a beautiful site with amazing potential ... but I've encountered some of the rattiest air there, in my (31 year, 105 site) flying career. Both in the LZ, and in the air (during wave days).
I've accepted the post of 'Safety Director' for our club (RMHPA) here in CO. We have had three paragliding fatalities this year, so I have given much thought recently to the subject of safety ... and risk management.
I normally don't post opinions, but I feel like it is a worthwhile thing, so here goes ...
If any of y'all hasn't read Michael Robertson's "The Art of Skysailing - A Risk Management Manual for Hang Gliding", I strongly recommend getting a copy and re-reading it at least once annually (like just before spring ).
It provides an excellent methodology for understanding/assessing the elements of risk on a particular day/site and using the assessment to make the Fly/No fly decision.
Many of you may already know this stuff, but I'll spit it out anyway.
Safety is all about trying to accurately understand and assess risks, minimize risks, and ... accepting the residual risk. It absolutely requires one to be objective and honest with ourselves . Problem is, it is impossible to be completely objective.
The key point I'm trying to make is that there is no guarantee that we've assessed the risk accurately. We don't know what we don't know (i.e. the residual risk) and that is what will (eventually) bite us in the butts.
Note the use of the word 'eventually'. That may be a bit disturbing to many, but I have to say it because I believe it is a fact. If you fly long enough, you will eventually have a grievious experience.
It is a serious mistake for one to believe they have the 'recipe' for saftey, or to develop the belief that their judgement will always save them from good old-fashioned and omnipresent 'bad luck'.
IMO 'bad luck' is simply due to our lack of ability to be omniscient. Can't escape it. Might as well accept that risk right up front. We try, but we are not really 'in control'.
I agree that choosing not to fly is the only way to eliminate risk completely ... and as I've said before: I've tried , but I just can't quit.
Peace to y'all
'Spark
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- Posts: 1042
- Joined: Fri Feb 25, 2005 4:17 pm
Bacil, I agree with your assessment that due to a variety of topographical features there is often a "deflection" that apparently shadows winds down at launch levels.
My point is that the winds are still there aloft--they may just be deflected higher or lower. I also maintain that no matter how good you may be at forecasting weather--you're still tossing the dice on high wind days as to whether or not those winds may make a guest appearance at launch or the LZ. I myself have chosen to accept those risks.
Over many years of flying it has been a general habit of pilots to assume Woodstock is the place to go on dynamic passing or post frontal days. That's just the way it has always been.
In general, when flying Woodstock I have seen way way too many launches where pilots have been gusted straight up--sometimes rolled. I have seen way way too many crashes, treeings and blowbacks. I've seen way way too many pilots get low up against the ridge and fail to get out to or barely make a suitable lz. I've seen way way too many rescue squads haul away busted up pilots from turbulent lz's.
Is this because the Woodstock effect also automatically causes pilots to fly worse?
So, as Mark suggests, you MIGHT get away with a smooth buttermilk flight when the rest of the region is howling--but you are just as likely to encounter some high winds at some point some place during your flight.
Eyes open.
Be prepared.
You're only kidding yourself.
marc
My point is that the winds are still there aloft--they may just be deflected higher or lower. I also maintain that no matter how good you may be at forecasting weather--you're still tossing the dice on high wind days as to whether or not those winds may make a guest appearance at launch or the LZ. I myself have chosen to accept those risks.
Over many years of flying it has been a general habit of pilots to assume Woodstock is the place to go on dynamic passing or post frontal days. That's just the way it has always been.
In general, when flying Woodstock I have seen way way too many launches where pilots have been gusted straight up--sometimes rolled. I have seen way way too many crashes, treeings and blowbacks. I've seen way way too many pilots get low up against the ridge and fail to get out to or barely make a suitable lz. I've seen way way too many rescue squads haul away busted up pilots from turbulent lz's.
Is this because the Woodstock effect also automatically causes pilots to fly worse?
So, as Mark suggests, you MIGHT get away with a smooth buttermilk flight when the rest of the region is howling--but you are just as likely to encounter some high winds at some point some place during your flight.
Eyes open.
Be prepared.
You're only kidding yourself.
marc
Great Googly-moo!
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- Posts: 1042
- Joined: Fri Feb 25, 2005 4:17 pm
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- Posts: 1042
- Joined: Fri Feb 25, 2005 4:17 pm
Re: The topography is the muffler
I first heard the term "Woodstock effect" from Rob Millman when we flew there around 1990/91.XCanytime wrote:Marc,
The muffling effect that you mention is a phenomenon that I coined way back in 1997 the "Woodstock Gradient Effect (WGE for short)". I was mystified by listening to the NOAA weather stations reporting Winchester's conditions back in March of 1997 as gusting up to 28 MPH, and hearing from Geoff Mumford that it was 10 to 15 at launch and not bad aloft above the Woodstock launch when he flew that very day. This pattern repeated itself, and I theorized that the topography directly upwind of the Woodstock launch was higher and "shadowed" the local area. A look at the relief maps of the areas confirmed my suspicion, with the topography over the WV border at 3K to 4K MSL, and Woodstock launch is at 1900' MSL. This "gradient effect" draws pilots to Woodstock when the forecast is NW 15 to 25 MPH.
There are a few instances where the effect is absent. On very unstable days the shadowing effect is negated. Upper-level disturbances passing through the local area can mix up the atmosphere enough to bring higher winds down to launch level. Deep lows spinning in place over the Canadian maritimes with a tremendous pressure gradient will blow out Woodstock.
But if the weather pattern is a garden variety cold front passage and a typical high pressure behind the front, breezy conditions usually follow and chances are the effect will be present.
Bacil
marc
Great Googly-moo!
Wait!
So surface winds do not equal winds aloft?!
Surely you jest!
I get what you're saying about mountain shadowing (come to Queenstown sometime if you want to see a very extreme example), but I'm still going to make fun of anyone making such broad assumptions about the weather ;)
Isn't this all mountain flying 101?
Jim
So surface winds do not equal winds aloft?!
Surely you jest!
I get what you're saying about mountain shadowing (come to Queenstown sometime if you want to see a very extreme example), but I'm still going to make fun of anyone making such broad assumptions about the weather ;)
Isn't this all mountain flying 101?
Jim
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- Joined: Mon Feb 14, 2005 9:29 pm
I think there is reasonable evidence that on any given moderate-wind day, the wind tends to be lighter at WS than at HR and lighter at HR than the Pulpit. Each of these differences is by about 5 mph. Notice I said “moderate”; when it’s windy, it’s windy everywhere.
I think people will go to WS with a strong forecast because of the famed “WS Effect” and end up flying in too-strong winds because they’ve gone through the effort of getting there and setting up and accepting the siren song of the “WS Effect”.
I think the regular LZ can be very challenging; one of the more difficult of our regional sites.
I can tell you that the wave is quite active at WS and the bands can and do shift. The lulls and blasts IMO are due to the wave moving forward and back; I would not trust flying it in a flex wing in wave conditions unless you’re willing to put up with possible turbulence. As far as evening lulls, the wave often intensifies in the evening as disruptive convection ceases. I’ve broken down many times at WS when the anticipated evening lull turned into freight trains.
Back in the day when WS was less flown, we did our stupid high-wind stuff at HR. I tended to be a windy-weenie even in those days but these launches were not atypical: see http://www.marylandhanggliding.org scout out the “photo gallery”, then “memorabilia” then “old HR photos” then “windy cliff launch” to see what I mean. The new ramp is not as conducive to high wind launches as the old ramp so it just doesn't happen... thank goodness.
Joe, I’m bummed about your accident but you conducted yourself within standard and accepted practices. Do we need to review these practices? Perhaps. But the bottom line is that flying in light (<5mph>15 mph) increases risk at many levels.
Danny Brotto
I think people will go to WS with a strong forecast because of the famed “WS Effect” and end up flying in too-strong winds because they’ve gone through the effort of getting there and setting up and accepting the siren song of the “WS Effect”.
I think the regular LZ can be very challenging; one of the more difficult of our regional sites.
I can tell you that the wave is quite active at WS and the bands can and do shift. The lulls and blasts IMO are due to the wave moving forward and back; I would not trust flying it in a flex wing in wave conditions unless you’re willing to put up with possible turbulence. As far as evening lulls, the wave often intensifies in the evening as disruptive convection ceases. I’ve broken down many times at WS when the anticipated evening lull turned into freight trains.
Back in the day when WS was less flown, we did our stupid high-wind stuff at HR. I tended to be a windy-weenie even in those days but these launches were not atypical: see http://www.marylandhanggliding.org scout out the “photo gallery”, then “memorabilia” then “old HR photos” then “windy cliff launch” to see what I mean. The new ramp is not as conducive to high wind launches as the old ramp so it just doesn't happen... thank goodness.
Joe, I’m bummed about your accident but you conducted yourself within standard and accepted practices. Do we need to review these practices? Perhaps. But the bottom line is that flying in light (<5mph>15 mph) increases risk at many levels.
Danny Brotto