By : Susan Garlick

Oh, the best-laid plans of mice and men. On Day 5, the well-laid plan to fly Mildura-Balaklava, and celebrate New Year's Eve at the local pub quickly fell apart. All change! In gliding nothing is ever that certain, is it? As crews set off in convoy, much to the dismay of passing motorists, we soon discovered we were travelling faster than the gliders.

Members of the GCV gliding safari at Waikerie January 1998.

For the pilots it was becoming a hard day with low cirrus and narrow thermals.

"Jeeze, this thermal is so narrow I could get my glider trailer in it."

"Can anyone tell me how to work this thermal?"

"It's called Patience."

Some good news was finally heard: "Bingo!"

But it was not to last. The destination was once more changed and all pilots survived low heights to reach Waikerie and celebrate New Year's Eve in great style at a BBQ hosted by the club.

Tom Savage and Ron Grant (in cockpit) at Spear Creek.

Day 6, New Year's Day, and a mood of supreme optimism Reigned. Port Augusta? 12,000 feet? No worries! All change - again, and again? How about crews leave Waikerie; pilots and gliders remain on the ground? Day 6 was that kind of a day, the one that really wasn't, except for the crews, that is. They had a very exciting day, taking trailers across the Murray on the ferry, then half an hour later, turning around, on a narrow road of course, and repeating the whole process all over again, in the reverse direction.

One crew member's wish for the day had finally been granted. "I want to go on two ferries today."

"Well, we did."

"I meant two different ones, not the same one."

Day 7 was the day that never was, not ever. Not even the crews were optimistic enough to set out as the weather clagged in. The motel owner and his computer both went on the blink at our unexpected return, for the second day in a row, His rooms seemed to appreciate rapidly in price by the day. "Sorry, yesterday's room isn't available, but I can give you a special offer - a $ 70 room for $ 80, or a room with a spa for $ 95."

At this, the circa 1960's motel down the road which had rooms for $ 50, became much more inviting, as did the prospect of a pleasant sojourn to the Barossa Valley, close by/ "Aah, life on a gliding safari is not an easy one."

Movement at last, with clears blue sky and a tail wind, the prospect for Day 8 looked much more promising. After experiencing some scratchy thermals, the original destination of Port Augusta was changed to Spear Creek, and crews headed north-west through Burra, Peterborough and Orroroo, where female crews finally mutinied and decided it was high time for tea and scones. "This is a holiday, not a route march."

At Spear Creek we were given a very warm welcome, together with a delightful meal, some decent wine, hot showers and comfortable bunks. When a katabatic wind blew up during the night, Louis Preiss, sleeping in his camper-van became very concerned, announcing to Louisa, "I'm going to take the campervan out to the airfield to check all the gliders. It's OK, you can stay in bed."

He obviously forgot that Louisa's bed also happened to be in the campervan as it trundled and swayed over to the airstrip. That's the trouble with glider pilots, they have a one-track mind. That wind did not bode well for Day 9 - another non-flying day. Frustration started to set in after hours of standing around waiting for some kind of action to happen, apart from looking at the sky and discussing the weather.

When Day 10 was declared yet another non-flying day, the safari took off, minus gliders for Wilpena Pound - the promised land. We had breathtaking journey through a 'corridor of time', driving through some of the majestic gorges which from part of this 17km long ancient ampitheatre of peaks and cliffs with geological formations going back 500-800 million years.

The break sound of wind and rain greeted Day 11, hardly auspicious for our ambitious plan to tow some of the gliders up for a day's flying around the 'Pound'. Some safari members took off for pastures new, whilst others decided to explore the area further. When the rain eased we visited the Sacred Canyon, the entrance to which was lined with huge Red River gums. Beyond lay a high, narrow gorge, dominated by rocks pitted with circular, geometric and animal shapes seemingly formed by a series of tiny hammer blows. Newly washed with rain, this ancient, sacred place was silent and peaceful as we daubed our faces with ochre and experienced its mystical atmosphere. By day's end, pure optimism reigned: "Tomorrow's the big day."

Tom Savage in Jantar 2A KYV

And so it seemed the next morning, as Day 12 heralded us with a fantastic sky, and loud knocking on the door. It was 7 am and some of our intrepid aviators were ready to leave, and take to the air once more. But by the time we reached the town of Quorn en route for Spear Creek, it was cold and wet, yet again. Still, Quorn had a great coffee shop, where a large group adjourned for breakfast and morning tea, much to the delight of the proprietor.

Back at Spear Creek, an early sea breeze dashed hopes of flying out that day, but undeterred, the group headed for the pub where some good luck on the pokies soon brightened their spirits. Orroroo or bust was the theme for Day 13, with all aviators and crews determined to leave Spear Creek. When yet another fantastic morning deteriorated fast, and with a front rapidly approaching, our group became desperate, as well as intrepid. Gliders were launched; gliders hung on, glider thermalled, and gained just enough height to get over the hills surrounding Spear Creek, up, up and away - to Orroroo, all of 50 km!

As the front hit, gliders fell out of the sky, littering the countryside, causing some consternation amongst both locals and crews who encountered problems establishing the location of the glider which belonged in their trailer. When the GCV gliding safari hit town, Orroroo looked on stunned as all available accommodation was rapidly booked, glider trailers filled the parking spots outside the Orroroo pub, and the local roadhouse was swamped with more eager diners than it had seen for a long time.

When Day 14 dawned with clouds popping and cumulus forming, it was time for the GCV safari to "head east." Pilots and crews headed south, then east through Peterborough, Burra and Morgan, with the final destination eventually changing from Renmark to Waikerie. Ever-mindful that this expedition was a holiday, some crews adjourned to the old copper mining town of Burra for fresh coffee and scones. That evening, a demonstration of Origami by our Thai contingent was followed by a spectacular Origami frogleaping contest, illustrating just how multi-talented these gliding types are.

By Day 15 it was definitely time to head for home via Swan Hill. Despite some struggles with the elements, ((after all, what is gliding without some confrontation with the weather) pilots and crews reached Swan Hill, and the following day were once more within sight of home base.

Benalla was a welcome sight for members of the 1997-98 GCV Gliding Safari. We were glad to be back safely, without any injuries of damaged sailplanes. But we also had some regrets. For this 'motley crew' had become good friends, people we could trust and rely on, people whose company we had valued and enjoyed. Despite the frustrations caused by the weather, we had seen and done a lot together (even some flying) as well as sharing many laughs.

For me, it had been a holiday with a great group of friends, and I would miss them very much. I just hope they ask me along for their next safari - I'll be in that for sure, just trying keeping me out!