The Montreal Soaring Council (MSC) holds a wave camp at Lake Placid airport every fall from mid-Sept to end-Oct.  For more information, email
- Bob Katz
- Phone (514) 989-2212

So where does one go from there? If someone once said "the sky is the limit", then why not try the sky. Running through the checklist inspired from the other two wave sports I have tried, it is clear that the list is short; a wave and a fiberglass instrument to get you where you want to be. To make things more interesting, why not change the above mentioned 5,000 feet to 5,000 meters for an improved fun factor. 

Hunting good wave conditions have taken many people to lots of interesting places. In my case, Lake Placid was Mecca, and almost in the proverbial backyard. Last year was my first introduction to gliding, including wave flying. As I learned, our club, The Montreal Soaring Council, has made a yearly pilgrimage to Lake Placid in search of mountain wave almost since the mountains were formed. 

After a checkride from Pierre Andre Langlois (one of the many ringleaders at the LKP camp) he pointed to our club’s LS-1 and said, it was my turn at bat. Twist the arm. I jumped in and was towed directly into wave over Whiteface Mountain. Beginner’s luck, that first foray took me to 12,500’ higher than I had ever been before. The dinner bell and fading light caused the folks on the ground to call me down. Suffice it to say the hook was set. 

As all glider pilots know, a set hook can be relatively uncomfortable. The remedy is simple: buy a glider, gain some freedom. This year I was accepted by Pierre Andre Langlois (PAL for those acronym-seeking pilots) as a partner, only after   filling out the requisite application forms of course. Acceptance by him was not so much as a partner in crime, but for a brand spanking new previously owned PIK 20D. We both were fortunate enough to familiarize ourselves with the plane on a few enjoyable flights around Hawkesbury this summer. PAL even forged into the unknown north towards Mont Laurier and Maniwaki. In short we picked a fine PIK. Eventually time came for our yearly pilgrimage to Lake Placid. A couple of weekends passed without our flying the PIK for one reason or another. The moment was drawing near. 
 

Rigged and with everything set for what I hoped would be a diamond climb on what was our PIK’s maiden voyage in a wave environment. On tow we climbed through some light rotor, then moved into silky air. Wave! I released and messed around getting ready for the elevator up to arrive. The Otis company has no monopoly on "up" as I was to find out. Soon thereafter I commenced a very slow climb in weak wave over Heart Lake 1.5 kts up until the lift seemed to peter out at about 9,500’. (To view a map of the area click here, caution large file) The next step was to make it back east to the Mt. Marcy wave. A nice lennie and a radio call from Andre Pepin had already confirmed there was action back there. I figured 9.5 was high enough to get there without getting too low and stuck in rotor. In a worst case scenario, Marcy airfield could serve if all else failed. I about faced, and went east. Spotting a nice part of the lennie, I simply pointed the nose there with the speed at best L/D indicating 70 mph. A quick look at my GPS showed a ground speed of about 120 mph. There was little time to loose altitude at that speed. Soon enough, the varios were telling me things were on the rise. A slow 180 degree turn put my nose into the wind for some station keeping in the sweet spot of the wave. Up, up and away. From 8,500’ and in 4 to 5 kt lift, I managed to get up to the cloud and over it at approximately 14,000’. 

Sucking O₂ now, I was very happy I had passed my previous high. The lift tapered off but low and behold, the cloud was extending further north. Time to investigate. It was beautiful slowly cruising over the leading edge of the cloud. Approaching the town of Jay (view map) my varios started to report good news again. Two, then three knot lift. At 16,500 it was time to see if I could get clearance into class A airspace, which the glider was fast approaching. Boston center was busy as usual. I found a brief lull in the action to jump in and make my request. "Center this is glider foxtrot uniform november".  I was hoping to get a little respect with a glider called FUN. I passed on the request and was told to stand by. Center came back with a negative on the request as our "agreement" with them had expired. Agreement? Expired? This was not part of the game plan. The glider didn’t seem to be bothered by the directive and kept climbing but Flight level 180 less a few hundred feet seemed to be as high as it would go that day. 

Up at 17,500’ I heard another lull in the communications at Boston center. What the hell…."Boston Center, glider foxtrot uniform november". A very brief statement ensued about an FAI badge, and spending a short time in alpha. This caused them to ask me to stand by. They were coming to realize they had a rabid dog attached to their leg. I was asked to report my position in relationship to the Saranac VOR. My turn to ask them to stand by while I called up SLK on my GPS. An exact distance and radial was passed back to them. Who knew the glider was VOR and a DME equipped? Actually I was lucky the VOR was co-located with SLK airport. I was then asked if I was going to be moving around. The answer was the correct one – no. As it happened, my position did change.. by +/- 0.25 nm. Nothing like a wave. Persistence paid off, Center came back with "Cleared above flight level 180". As any dude riding a big wave would say... cool. 

On the odd occasion Boston would query me as to my altitude. I did enjoy saying "flight level ……", in a glider. I am still getting used to the concept. On one occasion the controller in a slightly perplexed tone of voice asked if I had an engine in "that thing". Rubber bands don’t count so I said no. Center even had occasion to vector some jet traffic around me. I did appreciate their concern not to have the beautiful finish on the PIK marred. 

Good lift eventually became weak lift as I passed through 20,000’. At that point I saw a thin layer of haze forming above and in front. I pushed the stick forward to get to the leading edge that was less defined than the previously encountered clouds. As I flew out in front a slow beep, beep put a smile on my face again, 1.5 kts up. At 23,600’ and a bit, lift dropped off and my bladder was definitely talking to me. I would have loved to lollygag my way down and reinvestigate the various waves that provided the ride, but the call of nature did not allow that to be an option. Spoilers and gear out for quick descent well under Vne. I later learned that Marco Rraaijmakers our club’s resident F-18 and F-16 jockey made it up to 20,000’, but also had pressing reasons for a quick descent after lift tapered off. 

On my descent a few quick calculations proved that a diamond climb could be in the bag. With the trace printed and density altitude computations in place, it was looking good. Mother nature provided a 5110 meter ride. I couldn’t have wished for a better way to initiate our new glider to rarefied air and the biggest wave this honcho ever rode. In the words of Arnold, I’ll be back... next year.