A couple of months ago I was attending the Melbourne Seminar listening intently to the experiences of Einar Enevoldson (world sailplane altitude record holder), Gavin Wills (experienced New Zealand wave pilot) and Michael Sommer (current gliding world champion). It was an inspiring day, but when I came away I couldn't help feeling a little envious of the landscape available in certain parts of the world, and somewhat limited in what I could achieve locally. Fortunately this all changed after my last wave flight.
Most of my flying has been with the Grampians Soaring Club at Ararat, about 2 hours west of Melbourne. I've been fortunate enough to fly in the Grampians Wave many times over the past couple of years and get some decent climbs. Until now though, I've never really looked on wave as opportunity to explore. I knew it was possible - you often hear of pilots running the length of the south island of New Zealand – but I never made the connection to applying it to the relatively small area of the Grampians. Typically, I'd head for the strongest part of the primary wave and stay in it to get the maximum height. I may have used height to explore further, or investigated the downwind waves, but that was about the extent of it. The flight that has changed this mindset took place on 28 September 2008. Like most inspiring things, it took place out of necessity rather than preference.
From the airfield, wispy roll clouds were just visible to the west out towards the Grampians, so I took an early launch at 9:40am (thanks to an enthusiastic Richard Leschen in the tug). On tow things looked promising so I released at the first sniff of lift over Mount Ararat. Things started off slow, and I was fairly low – around 4000ft - for quite a while, so it gave me some time to try to figure things out.
There was clearly wave to the north and south of the Grampians as there were bands of decent looking roll clouds, but very little happening on the lee side of Mount William, the highest part of the range. It seemed as if the flow was blocked by the mountain range and was being diverted around it rather than over it. The area about 10km east of Mount William (typically around Moyston) is our usual hunting ground for decent climbs, so I needed another option if I was to keep flying. I wanted to know what would be kicking off the wave to the south, so I gradually hopped south west towards Dunkeld through the successive waves. By the time I'd reached 12,000 ft I was west of the main range in the Grampians and was in the secondary wave near Glenthompson. This was the first time I'd seen wave being generated from the Victoria range (Western range of the Grampians), most likely because I hadn't been looking for it before
Being so far west and having plenty of height gave me a great opportunity to explore the Grampians. I decided to follow the secondary wave north as it would take me directly above the impressive valley. The wave was fairly broken; probably due to interaction with the Serra range (2nd range in the Grampians), but it still gave good lift most of the way. By that stage I was more engrossed with the spectacular scenery than trying to get a decent climb – it was just amazing. The only clouds were ones that marked the wave and the occasional cumulus, so you could see everything so clearly. There is something special about the mountains in the Grampians and seeing them pass slowly and effortlessly beneath the starboard side of the glider, was nothing short of spectacular
It got fairly turbulent on the western side of Mount William, so I moved straight through to the wave above Halls Gap. Over the town there was slow but reliable lift and it provided a climb up to 21,000 ft. The air was not showing signs of going much higher so I left the wave to go home after getting a diamond climb. Well, that was my plan at first, but at about 4pm, after an hour of 'playing about' – one of the luxuries of all that spare height and plenty of lift – I saw that the Mount William wave had finally roared into life.
There was a huge roll cloud about 8,000 ft tall and rotating rapidly, a very obvious indication of some good wave. Initially I just wanted to know how much height I'd lose pushing into the primary from the secondary – it turned out to be 6000 ft. This all sounded far too good to resist, so curiosity got the better of me and I chose to climb again. I climbed from 10,000 ft to 21,000 ft in 20 minutes. This looked very good for a strong climb into controlled airspace, so I called ahead to Melbourne centre. Unfortunately, due to the amount of traffic they could not clear me by the time I reached 24,000 ft. I waited for a few minutes, but the sun was directly head on and falling fast, so I decided to head back to Ararat. Half an hour of airbrakes later I landed, just after 5pm.
It's been a couple of weeks now since that, but I'm still just as enthusiastic about it now as I was driving home. It's opened up so many possibilities for flights in the area. Not for claims, badges or records, just for enjoying flying and exploring the area.
I’m sure this flight was not the reason for my new found enthusiasm, after all it was nothing particularly groundbreaking, but it was the trigger. What was important was that it occurred just a few weeks after hearing the inspiring accounts from Einar Enevoldson, Gavin Wills and Michael Sommer. Thanks Guys
The flight just proved to me its all there on our door step waiting to be explored.
Most of my flying has been with the Grampians Soaring Club at Ararat, about 2 hours west of Melbourne. I've been fortunate enough to fly in the Grampians Wave many times over the past couple of years and get some decent climbs. Until now though, I've never really looked on wave as opportunity to explore. I knew it was possible - you often hear of pilots running the length of the south island of New Zealand – but I never made the connection to applying it to the relatively small area of the Grampians. Typically, I'd head for the strongest part of the primary wave and stay in it to get the maximum height. I may have used height to explore further, or investigated the downwind waves, but that was about the extent of it. The flight that has changed this mindset took place on 28 September 2008. Like most inspiring things, it took place out of necessity rather than preference.
From the airfield, wispy roll clouds were just visible to the west out towards the Grampians, so I took an early launch at 9:40am (thanks to an enthusiastic Richard Leschen in the tug). On tow things looked promising so I released at the first sniff of lift over Mount Ararat. Things started off slow, and I was fairly low – around 4000ft - for quite a while, so it gave me some time to try to figure things out.
There was clearly wave to the north and south of the Grampians as there were bands of decent looking roll clouds, but very little happening on the lee side of Mount William, the highest part of the range. It seemed as if the flow was blocked by the mountain range and was being diverted around it rather than over it. The area about 10km east of Mount William (typically around Moyston) is our usual hunting ground for decent climbs, so I needed another option if I was to keep flying. I wanted to know what would be kicking off the wave to the south, so I gradually hopped south west towards Dunkeld through the successive waves. By the time I'd reached 12,000 ft I was west of the main range in the Grampians and was in the secondary wave near Glenthompson. This was the first time I'd seen wave being generated from the Victoria range (Western range of the Grampians), most likely because I hadn't been looking for it before
Being so far west and having plenty of height gave me a great opportunity to explore the Grampians. I decided to follow the secondary wave north as it would take me directly above the impressive valley. The wave was fairly broken; probably due to interaction with the Serra range (2nd range in the Grampians), but it still gave good lift most of the way. By that stage I was more engrossed with the spectacular scenery than trying to get a decent climb – it was just amazing. The only clouds were ones that marked the wave and the occasional cumulus, so you could see everything so clearly. There is something special about the mountains in the Grampians and seeing them pass slowly and effortlessly beneath the starboard side of the glider, was nothing short of spectacular
It got fairly turbulent on the western side of Mount William, so I moved straight through to the wave above Halls Gap. Over the town there was slow but reliable lift and it provided a climb up to 21,000 ft. The air was not showing signs of going much higher so I left the wave to go home after getting a diamond climb. Well, that was my plan at first, but at about 4pm, after an hour of 'playing about' – one of the luxuries of all that spare height and plenty of lift – I saw that the Mount William wave had finally roared into life.
There was a huge roll cloud about 8,000 ft tall and rotating rapidly, a very obvious indication of some good wave. Initially I just wanted to know how much height I'd lose pushing into the primary from the secondary – it turned out to be 6000 ft. This all sounded far too good to resist, so curiosity got the better of me and I chose to climb again. I climbed from 10,000 ft to 21,000 ft in 20 minutes. This looked very good for a strong climb into controlled airspace, so I called ahead to Melbourne centre. Unfortunately, due to the amount of traffic they could not clear me by the time I reached 24,000 ft. I waited for a few minutes, but the sun was directly head on and falling fast, so I decided to head back to Ararat. Half an hour of airbrakes later I landed, just after 5pm.
It's been a couple of weeks now since that, but I'm still just as enthusiastic about it now as I was driving home. It's opened up so many possibilities for flights in the area. Not for claims, badges or records, just for enjoying flying and exploring the area.
I’m sure this flight was not the reason for my new found enthusiasm, after all it was nothing particularly groundbreaking, but it was the trigger. What was important was that it occurred just a few weeks after hearing the inspiring accounts from Einar Enevoldson, Gavin Wills and Michael Sommer. Thanks Guys
The flight just proved to me its all there on our door step waiting to be explored.
View from Glen Thomson looking west
Roll cloud over Ararat
Looking south over the valley

Mount William
Early morning view from Dunkeld








