An Epic Maiden
Have you ever been crazily obsessed with a new airplane? I have.
This article originally appeared in the November-December 2021 edition Model Aviation Canada, the official publication of the Model Aeronautics Association of Canada. It is reprinted here with their permission and our thanks. — Ed.
Meet Twister, a Euro-built three-metre ‘moldie’ —a slope glider molded from carbon composite. I think they named it Twister because of how fast your head has to spin to keep up with it.
After its sheer size, what is most striking about this soaring beauty is its immaculately clean design. All elements support the designer’s mission to minimize drag. IDS control linkages are internal. The finish is mirror smooth. The elegant lines stream the air. From its first high speed pass over my home field in North Vancouver (NVRCFC), I was in love.
Twister has an electric motor for launching from flat fields. After testing and trimming in North Vancouver, Twister begged to be unleashed where it can soar — in the big outdoors on the side of a mountain.
My favourite slope beckoned for the maiden alpine flight — a five-hour drive from Vancouver — but well worth the trek. I gathered my flying and camping gear, crammed it all into my trusted red Jeep Cherokee and headed out to experience my dream flight adventure.
I arrive at the spectacular site, located five thousand feet above the Similkameen river valley, in the interior mountains of BC. Sunny skies and a fifteen-mph wind straight on to the hill make perfect conditions for the maiden. I watch the hawks effortlessly gain altitude, so I know slope and thermal lift are abundant.
Like many alpine slopes, the landing here is tricky — it is the side of a mountain, after all. There is only a small ridge plateau to set down on before you fly back out into the lift zone. I am only a very occasional sloper and it has been several months since my last sloping session. So I practice first with my Phoenix, a two-metre foam beater I use for probing out lift. I complete a few landings to make sure I still have it wired.
It is late afternoon by the time I am finally ready to maiden the Twister. Wind and weather are perfect. I know the Twister will fly faster and with more agility than any sloper I have ever flown. A few last-minute control checks to calm my nerves and I am ready to launch. I stand alone on the mountain — just me and my big red and white glider.
Suddenly I hear a ruckus in the air behind me. An immense flock of migrating cranes arrives, whooping and screeching some six hundred feet above the launch site. They work the mountain lift to gain altitude, swirling around in the sky like a tornado. The sun glints off their light-colored bellies. It is a spectacle.
“I’ll never again have such a big audience,” I chuckle to myself. This is the moment. I launch. Twister climbs straight out as if gravity did not exist. I reach two hundred feet above the slope, level out and begin to trade altitude for speed. Twister builds momentum in big descending circuits.
Slope soaring is all about energy. The magic is in converting the power of the wind into exhilarating high speed flight. In strong lift virtually anything will fly on the slope, but flying a molded composite glider is an experience like no other. The speed, sound and precise handling of a moldie is like tearing up the road in a Ferrari.
Twister banks sixty degrees, almost knife edge. She whistles through consecutive figure eight turns, easily over eighty mph. Energy retention is superb. She carves over the alpine terrain with the precision of a ski racer. I am lost in the thrill.
“Signal strength eighty percent!” My transmitter’s synthesized voice warning rudely breaks Twister’s spell on me. The model has built-in telemetry that monitors key flight parameters. Telemetry is new to me and I am startled by the unfamiliar warning. I have already thoroughly range tested the radio so I continue flying. I don’t want this joy ride to end!
I tighten the circuits to keep the plane closer to me — just in case. The glider builds more speed. I break out of the circuit into a graceful axial roll without losing any energy. There is so little drag on this airframe.
“Signal strength seventy percent!” the Spektrum transmitter warns me. I have been flying ten minutes now with no sign of a control glitch. These warnings are starting to get to me. A few more laps.
“Signal strength sixty-five percent!” Twister could stay up all day in this never-ending lift, but I decide to investigate and risk an early landing.
The trick to landing here is to descend into the gulley behind the main slope, work off the speed and then skim up the hill and land at the crest. It usually takes a few go-rounds to get it just right. Too fast and you overshoot and fly back out into the lift. Too slow and you risk stalling below the crest and slamming into the steep part of the slope. Unfriendly rocks there would make this a tragic mistake.
I bring Twister around behind me, drop flaps and aim toward the landing area. I discover that the big flaps, which slowed the plane to a virtual crawl in North Van, have much less effect here in these strong alpine conditions. So I wash off more speed and go around, lower this time. Even with full flaps deployed, Twister refuses to come down. The thin wings are so slippery. This glider just wants to fly!
I guide Twister deep into the gulley, climb up the back and she slows at last. One more turn, just this side of a stand of trees and then head back up the slope to land. Just like I did with the smaller glider…no need to worry…lots of space between the glider and the trees.
Whack! Twister clips the tip of the tallest pine, some hundred feet up. The glider spins ninety degrees and dives into the tree. The top of the pine shakes. The gulley echoes with the sound of cracking branches. I am stunned; utterly in disbelief in what I have just done.
It was pure pilot error. And a hard lesson. After flying the smaller plane, I simply hadn’t compensated enough for distance with this massive glider!
After I stop cursing, despair sets in. There I am, alone on a mountain. My cherished Twister, still in one piece, is impossibly out of reach. No way can I climb that tree. What to do?
Twister was my first electric high performance moldie. It had taken months to build as COVID delayed the arrival of critical components. I invested countless hours of research into proper set-up techniques. I fitted it with top-of-the-line gear. I couldn’t just leave it there to be blown down someday and be found in pieces by a hiker.
As the light starts to fade my despair gives way to resolve. Twister’s story cannot end here. I must retrieve this plane intact…somehow.
Paragliding is popular in this area so my first thought is to call Search and Rescue (SAR). Surely the local SAR folks have dealt with paraglider tree rescues and can refer me to a specialist. I have one bar of cell reception. I hold my breath that the call will go through. It does. The SAR technician is amused by my request but unable to refer me to anyone. He suggests I call an area arborist.
I attempt an internet search for local arborists, but the data signal up here is fickle. It drifts in and out like the thermals. I wait for my iPhone screen to load. I dial several tree specialists. No response. It is now past business hours and getting dark. I worry that the glider may blow down in the night. Ripping itself apart as it crashes through the branches. As a last resort, I send out a text instead.
Retrieval from large tree needed. Can you help? I am deliberately sketchy on the details so as not to scare off a potential rescuer. Within minutes I get a response from Scott.
Cat? he asks.
Glider I respond.
I text him my general location and a picture of the tree with the glider barely visible at the top.
Dude, I am $200/hour. Driving up from Penticton. Gotta rearrange other jobs he responds.
Yikes.
How confident are you that you can reach the plane and safely lower it down to me? I ask.
Confident! he quickly replies. We negotiate on the price and quickly reach a deal. Scott will arrive at 7am in the morning.
Mercifully, the wind calms. The glider appears to be settled in its perch for the night. I feel hopeful.
By now it is dark. I find a flat spot close to the tree to park the Cherokee. I crawl into the back and bunk down for the night. In the darkness, I do not realize I have parked my red metal monster over a badger hole. The poor little guy must be as stunned as I was when that giant pine stole my glider.
I awake to the sounds of scraping metal as the badger works to dislodge my vehicle. I move the Cherokee and after a well-deserved scolding by the badger we part as friends.
Scott arrives right on time. He is accompanied by assistant Austin and canine pal Daisy. Scott has a big smile, an engaging Kiwi accent, and a can-do attitude. His confidence is contagious. My hope goes up a notch.
We get to the base of ‘the tower’. The tree is still holding my glider hostage. I explain to Scott how to remove the wings and provide him with a wing bag to lower them down through the branches. I am still imagining that the damage to the airframe is minor.
“How big is this glider?” he asks.
“About ten feet” I answer. Scott’s eyes glaze over. He looks up at the skinny treetop. I can see he is struggling with the thought of disassembling a ten-foot plane on a treetop eighty-five feet high.
“What if we set up a zipline?” Scott suggests, “Austin can walk the line out, away from the tree. I’ll tie the glider on to a sling and slide it down to you.”
“Brilliant!” I say, “Let’s do that.”
Fully equipped with ropes and climbing gear, mountain man Scott makes his way to the treetop; pruning and cutting obstructing branches as he goes. He gently climbs the last portion so as not to shake the tree and have the plane fall out before he gets a grip on it.
“It looks pretty beat up,” he calls down, “Must have hit hard. One wing is badly chewed.”
Sigh! My hopes fade of Twister emerging unscathed. Turns out that the thin carbon wing skins, which provide great stiffness, crack like eggshells on impact.
One more branch and Scott reaches the plane. It is wedged firmly into the treetop. He carefully pulls it free and attaches a sling. He clips it fully assembled to the zipline and releases it.
Twister, freed at last, finishes the remaining eighty-five feet of its landing, tethered. It arrives into Austin’s waiting hands. Maiden flight complete!
I settle up with Scott and he offers me a discount to help pay for the repairs. He is genuinely sorry to see the damage. His empathy touches me. Wow! I thank Scott and Austin heartily.
The fuselage and tail emerged unscathed from the ordeal, thanks to Scott’s careful handling. Both wings suffered severe leading edge damage on impact.
It is possible to repair molded wings, but they never look or fly the same. I plan to order a new set of wings from the importer, Soaring USA.
Some might say that launching a delicate glider off the side of a wooded mountain is a fool’s errand. If the trees don’t get you the rocks will. But for me, nothing brings as much joy as a great day on the slope.
Twister will fly again!
©2022 Mike Poser
Resources
- Author’s Note: I later learned that the Spektrum ‘signal strength’ warning can be safely ignored. How ironic!
- Twister E — More details on the aircraft featured in this story from the listing on the SoaringUSA website
- Scotty Tree — the go-to source for RC glider retrieval services in the greater Okanagan area.
- Model Aviation Canada — from the website: “the official publication of the Model Aeronautics Association of Canada, and is published six (6) times a year by Morison Communications.”
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