"Bob Kuykendall" wrote in message
...
Earlier, R Barry wrote:

My question is if soaring is so dangerous why
when you go to the NTSB accident pages are
their more fatalities in RV's in 1 year than in
Soaring?

I happen to agree with this guy: I believe that there
are generally more opportunities to get injured, dismembered,
or outright killed in soaring than in the equivalent
time spent flying powered airplanes. I further believe
that it is likely a testament to the skill and dedication
of the average sailplane pilot that there are fewer
soaring fatalities than RV fatalities, if indeed that
is the case.

I've known more than a few pilots who continued soaring
past the age at which they no longer had the stamina
nor facility of tactics and strategy that it takes
to do it safely. I also know several who wisely scale
their soaring activity to the scope of their mental
and physical resources, and a few who have quit outright
on that account. And they may have quit, but they did
it while they were ahead.

Getting sort of off-topic, here is the text of an essay
on soaring safety that I started earlier this season,
but never polished off. Maybe it's worth thinking on
anyhow.

***************************************

Soaring is Dangerous

'You don't have to worry about safety. If you worry
about danger, safety will take care of itself.' - Anon

This soaring season has not been a good one for me
and my friends. There have been three accidents so
far at my home field, one of them a fatality involving
a friend. There were also two other fatalities involving
acquaintences with whom I shared a deep interest in
sailplane development. And there have also been one
or two additional fatalities involving friends of friends.

Recently, I've started to dabble in another sport,
that of rock climbing. It has given me a new perspective
on safety, one that I think might have value to the
world of soaring.

Rock climbing is dangerous. Everyone says that. Popular
imagery depicts it as an eXtreme sport practiced by
hulking youths dangling their butts over the walls
of Yosemite, with nothing between them and a 3000-foot
plummet except a scrap of shaggy rope and 30 grams
of battered aluminum. Dangerous? Sheesh, how could
it not be?

Oh, and the warning tags that go onto every piece of
climbing gear: With few exceptions, they start with
the bold disclaimer that 'Rock climbing is a dangerous
sport in which you may be seriously injured or die.'

However, popular imagery of rock climing does not depict
that rock climbers generally are aware of and acknowledge
the inherent dangers, and generally do everything practical
to stack the odds in their favor.

That shaggy-looking scrap of rope the climber is dangling
from? Under the slightly battered nylon sheath is a
springy core of incredible strength - I could hang
my family car from it. Fully loaded. It's connected
to the wall at a solid, redundant anchor consisting
of two to five attachments, any one of which will probably
absorb the impulse of a climber falling the full length
of the rope.

What I've found in rock climbing is that it seems to
be the very act of acknowledging the inherent risks
and dangers that equips climbers to address them, and
empowers them to do everything practical to mitigate
the risks and to stack the odds in their favor. I believe
that this frank acknowledgement is what makes rock
climbing a relatively safe sport, stastically speaking.


Anecdotally, among the climbers I know personally,
only about one in five knows someone who's been badly
hurt at it, and none of them has had a friend killed
at it. Contrast that with soaring, which everyone says
is basically safe, and for which I personally could
write you a list eight or a dozen names long of friends
and acquaintences lost. Lost, not only to me, but to
all their family and friends and colleagues and rivals
and employers and employees.

Soaring pilots, this is what I suggest to you:

* Acknowledge that soaring is an inherently unforgiving
endeavor that includes risks and dangers.

* Educate yourself about the risks and dangers of soaring.

* Weigh those risks and dangers against the values
and benefits of soaring flight. Weigh them against
your personal value to your family, friends, and community.
You may be one of the people to whom I am indifferent,
or with whom I disagree, or whom I might dislike. But
your family loves you and your community values you,
and they will all miss you dearly when you are gone.

If you find as I have that the balance favors a life
that includes soaring with all of its rewards _and_
perils, then soar. But do so with recognition of the
inherent dangers, and always with an eye towards doing
what you can to mitigate them.

***************************************

Thanks, and best regards to all

Bob K.


I agree, but I might sum it up another way: Soaring CAN be safe but you'd
damn well better be good at it.

The problem, I think, is that some start with the idea that 'soaring is
safe' and then, by extension, 'I don't have to work very hard at being
good - because it's safe'. These poor folks inevitably wind up as
statistics. Soaring is no safer than the participant makes it. But if the
participant decides to make it safe by acquiring the necessary skills,
cautious attitudes, and safety ethic, then it is safe.

By example, I was surprised at the reaction I got recently when I said that
to be safe on a cross country, you must always be with gliding distance of a
known-safe landing site. And that site should be reachable at half your
best glide. The reaction could be summed up as, "Then nobody would go cross
country". That startled me.

In response, I gave the example that I am now starting planning on a 1000km
straight-out flight that I hope to fly next June. I've chosen the route and
located 12 paved runways along the route that can accept the 20 meter span
of my Nimbus II. I still need to fill in some gaps with landout sites that
can be backcountry strips or farm fields. It may be necessary to drive
portions of the route by 4WD to get GPS coordinates of landable fields. I
won't fly the route until I have those gaps filled.

"Aw, that's too much work", was the response. At that point I gave up.

Bill Daniels