Tips for the newbie thermal junkie.
First, find the nearest electronic recycler and take a hammer to that vario. It's a crutch and a distraction, and you'll never run up mountains distracted and on crutches. Eagles don't have 'em and neither do red tails, ravens or any other soaring birds for that matter. How do they do it? They listen to their wings, and you can learn to do the same thing, but I doubt it'll happen with that elctronic gizmo constantly beeping at you. I'd toss it!
Second, don't be shy about being the first person off the hill, especially on marginally soarable days. The old adage, "the early bird gets the worm" very often holds true in this sport. Something about scarfing up the first big puddle of warm air I suspect.
Unless you're getting spanked, open that chest strap wide open. Your wing will give you far more feedback and will allow you to better core a tight thermal with way more effective weight shift.
Be conservative with bank angles until you've had the opportunity to spend a good deal of time at altitude practicing progressively steeper weight shift focused turns. Teach yourself to fly with minimal brake input - speed and wing loading are your friends. I've found that a full leg extension position adds significantly to my ability to leverage weight shift and improves the carving performance of my wing. It may fly in the face of everything you've been told but it works, and when you find yourself wrestling with a pissed off snake going skyward at a thousand up you want all the wing responsiveness you can get.
Dr Jack has predicting thermal updraft velocity and lots of other cool soaring data down to an art form. Register and check that page, it'll save you wasted trips up the hill once you decide soaring is what this sport is really all about.
Personally, I'm not a fan of big air crowds, have never flown a comp and probably never will. I guess I've just never been a follow the leader sort and find it far more challenging and more rewarding to trek off on my own. Doing so has far more advantages than not in my humble opinion.
The single biggest advantage I can think of is the ability to pick an undisturbed puddle over an unflown field to punch a hole into, cut it loose, and ride the whole works to a really stinking high altitude. I find this infinitely more gratifying than scrambling to grab someone else's leftovers. I know, I'm weird, but I don't give a damn.
I also know what a temptation it is, when you're getting low, to drive around hoping for any scrap of lift while trying to set up to land near a road for an easier retrieve. But, nine times out of ten and I've done this many many times, you can make it happen by flying into the middle of the field instead and drilling a hole. I've cut thermals loose from 2000' all the way down to 100' and everything in between, doing just that.
There's really no big trick to it. But here again speed and wing loading are your friends because you'll stir the puddle with a bigger stick, so to speak. Also, keep in mind that on light wind days a green field will have cooler air over it (read higher density) that will act as dam for a warming puddle in a neighboring brown field, so you are likely to get the most bang for your drilling buck toward the downwind side of your source field.
Lots of people think tractors, cars and other ground activity will set thermals loose and I think that's absolutely true, but at some point you should ask yourself how big the puddle can be if it's constantly being disturbed by ground activity. I have had far more low save success by avoiding those areas and going for the tranquil field that's just sitting there soaking up sunshine.
When you do hit the dirt unexpectedly, you won't learn a thing by getting your panties all twisted up over it. That moment is the absolute best time to look around and consider what you might have done differently. If there's a hill or relaunch site nearby, pack your gear up, gather your patience, and hoof it some. It's good for you
One of the most rewarding flights I've ever had at Chelan happened a few hours after getting flushed over the rim and forced to land down near a road in a canyon. I spent an hour and a half climbing and munching wild currants without a clue as to whether a relaunch was possible, but it was a nice day, so I figured, what the hell... I came across a little open knob, waited another hour or so until it started to burble up, relaunched, flew out maybe a hundred meters, drilled a hole, and was immediately rewarded with a nice ride back to altitude.
Fly smart and have fun out there!
Footnotes: Your #1 natural enemy in this sport is the vertical vortice, aka dustless devil, mini-tornado, or as one of my favorite hangglider pilots calls them simply: otis. I live on the south face of a mountain, north of Chelan some, situated in a valley that's at least as dynamic as the butte. And I've noticed that when I'm in the lee of the flow aloft the frequency of their appearance is times ten, and their intensity seems to be directly proportional to thermal updraft velocity with seemingly little regard for wind velocity. This is by no means to imply that you won't find them elsewhere including the windward side of a topographical feature but it has become clear to me that their frequency in the lee is of some multitude.
Note to Self: Stay out of the lee of big features on strong days!
