Flight Log - Lake Bohinj, revisited June 2007

The first time I wrote up this site was three years ago, when I was CP plus about 2 hours airtime. This time I'm older, (maybe) wiser, have 90 hours more airtime than then, but I think I was more scared this time than three years ago! Of course, just one year ago (363 days, to be exact) I had an experience at this site that I'd sooner not repeat, when I fell into the lake due to my own ineptitude and inexperience, so I suppose that added to my apprehension as I stood on takeoff on Saturday morning, two days after the main group of flyers had gone home, and the official holiday had ended. Noone to help on takeoff - Brett had taken Nina to the seaside for the weekend, and Toby was still in the land of nod with phone switched off. Just me and some thickly gathering cumulus coming at me from the NNE and trying to obliterate the nice sunny morning. It looked like the wind might be picking up. There was a couple of Slovenian pilots who took off before me, so at least, by watching them, I had some idea of what was coming.

Fortunately, with a reasonably steady breeze coming onto launch, I got away without incident and headed straight for the crags between launch and the lake. Previously I've been able to scratch here, get above the crags and then fly back over launch with 1000ft in hand, before deciding what to do next. Today, it was really rough by the rocks - maybe it was the wind that was doing it - and it wasn't even lifting reliably, with vario screaming up one moment and moaning down the next. Not good when really close to the rocks! So I went around the crags a bit more and then started to fly down the ridge of trees that separates the launching valley from the lake. Soon I hit a good thermal and took it, drifting back with it in the breeze, and soon being level with the crags and able to go back to them for another go. Still no joy, so back to the thermal, and this time higher, getting above the rocks and taking some photos of the takeoff and hotel at the top of the cablecar. But I was worried about being carried too far by the stronger wind at altitude, so didn't push my luck by flying right back over the top of takeoff. Eventually I got bold enough to carry the thermal up to a turbulent cloudbase at 2000m, and take a peek over the mountains to Tolmin and Italy. Not a solid base, but at least I did get into the wispy bits. Then I went over to the right of takeoff and had a minor exploration of the southern ridge that leads to Bohinska Bistrica and our new house at Sorica. If I hadn't been a wimp, I would have had a go at doing an XC along the ridge to see how far I could get. It was quite sunny on that side and it would have been fantastic to have landed at Sorica in the ski-resort car park or on the open slope there before Brett had done the same thing!

But, being a spineless creature, I guessed that, as it was a north-side ridge, I'd just end up in the trees. Instead, I decided to stick to a flight-plan I knew, get a top-up, then fly across the lake and see what it was like over the cliffs on the northern side. There being a bit of a headwind, I lost about 700m of height crossing the lake, but I wasn't worried as I had loads in hand. The mild vertigo looking down 2500ft at the water was more worrying - I didn't remember that before! Actually, the cliffs were no good. Partly because the wind was blowing over them, and partly because they were a bit in the shade, but I did find lift on the east side of the "Strudel" takeoff and took a ride back up 400m to 1600m in rather strong lift that made me worried about getting sucked up into the big grey jobs overhead. So much so, that I actually flew away from it on big-ears and bar the second time, as it threatened to get out of hand. I had to drive home to UK the next day, and I didn't want to be in hospital when I was supposed to be on the autobahn!

I can't remember what we call the third takeoff on the lump that's on its own - but whatever it is, I flew over it just for the hell of doing so!... and up the valley a little way towards the restaurant with the walk-in winebarrels. But, actually, I'd had enough, and was prepared to settle for a nice safe landing and a large pivo.

Toby and his french pal, Didier, flew down as I finished packing away - had they been there 90 minutes earlier, I might have summoned up the courage to try for Sorica. Next time, maybe.

It began to rain. Softly at first, but then more enthusiastically.

Yess! Got that flight in just in time!

Giorgio arrived from Nova Goricia, recognised me, (much to my surprise), and pivos (or should that be pivi?) were duly drunk.