KNOW BEFORE YOU GO

When still new in this region I asked long-time locals for tips about certain bad areas to avoid on cross-country flights. To their credit most tried, but their answers were more confusing than helpful. Some things you must discover for yourself.EXAMPLE: We were running along a shearline and came upon two racing ships circling together. Obvious from their radio dialogue, they were protege and mentor. I hailed them from outside of a mile but neither answered. (Learned later our mike was bad, an entirely different story.)Their thermal was in our shearline so, climbing fairly well ourselves in dolphin flight, we headed straight for one side of their circle. Our pull up lofted us nearly to their height, we rocked wings as a howdy, and when they still didn’t break squelch we nosed over and ambled on.While they continued climbing quicker in one place, we were pulling away at better than two klicks a minute. Then one of them said, “Let’s follow the two-seater.” My student began to gloat at that and I was tempted too, but no.“They’ll catch us soon enough. We might hold the lead awhile if you stay right on the shearline and slow up only in the strongest lift.”Twenty minutes later they overtook us. Again we were all at about the same height, now with less to spare above rising ground and the next real airport still forty miles ahead. Just as they hauled abeam we hit a boomer. All three ships pulled up of course, but where they rolled into another climb that seemed unnecessary we just grabbed the easy ups and pushed on as before.Next came the punch line. Remember that unnamed sink hole I finally quit asking about? Couldn’t tell yet, but this sure smelled like it. Were we about to learn what that other instructor seems to have known already?Right away we needed ninety knots indicated and then it got worse. It’s why our compadres stopped to climb alright. How long might this last? You always hope killer sink won’t go on forever, but can’t know even if it'll ever end until it does.  This didn’t.  Hemorrhaging altitude, we had to retreat. Turns out that one stretch of hills is known for throwing down mile after brutal mile of drink first and ask questions ever after.As the others sailed high over us, still on course, the best we could do was eke a lucky save near the last airport backways and draggle humbly home. Superior penetration — and information — carried them safely across that high gravity zone, and before we landed they were fading beyond radio range. Now here’s where you expect to be told the trap’s location, right? Life should be so easy! Thing is, at last I see how this game is played…