Solid state horizons

if you are thinking of slapping a T&B in your glider and going cloud flying.

Here's my story - don't do what I did:

When I was invulnerable and knew everything, but hadn't
done much, I desperately wanted to go cloud flying in a
glider like the heroes I'd read about who'd gotten diamonds
in thunderstorms. I'd never been in a cloud, never met
anyone who had, never had any sort of formal instruction.
I'd never even been above cloudbase or in a mountain wave,
but I set out to cloud fly.

I read all I could - it was a lot. I had a draggy, but
stable and tough glider that had Vne dive brakes and was
built for cloud flying. I practiced long periods of
hands-off "benign spiral mode" type flight from different
entries. I practiced unusual attitude recovery, including
inverted flight recoveries (more of that self-taught stuff).
I put a T&B in a 2-seater and practiced under the hood with
a trusted friend as safety pilot until I was as comfortable
as I could get.

Finally, I trailered out to some remote uncontrolled
airspace, launched and began the climb to a 5,000 AGL
cloudbase. Cu's were towering 10,000 above their bases, but
there was no precip and no forecast for thunderstorms. As I
entered, lift began to increase. I circled steadily,
carefully trimmed out, as I'd practiced, watching needle,
ball and airspeed like a hawk. I never made any
repositioning or major turn corrections. I never did
anything other than fly the turn as accurately as I could,
holding speed and coordination and eyeing the needle to
adjust the ailerons and keep a steady turn.

Seven thousand feet higher, with sweat dripping from every
pore, I decided to roll out. I have no idea how long this
took, but I did occasionally take the risk of a quick glance
at the vario and recall seeing it pegged, so it couldn't
have been too long. I didn't try to roll out on any
heading, I just brought it back to about best L/D and
straight according to the needle. Apparently it's quite
dark inside a cloud, because as I approached the edge the
sun was so bright my eyes began to tear and I had trouble
seeing the instruments.

Suddenly, I popped out and the sight was magical - I was in
a narrow cloud canyon stretching above and below me for
thousands of feet. I was higher than I'd ever been. For
someone who had never been above cloudbase the emotion, the
relief, the exhilaration was enough to leave a lifelong
impression that still rings strongly in me as I write this.

What I did wasn't very safe, nor smart, but I did my best to
reduce the risk. I did it only the once.