published in Magazin "Segelfliegen" 4/2007
There comes a time that you want to fly a little bit faster. Maybe you’ve been to a contest or two and you’ve seen what amazing speeds the top pilots achieve – and often in surprisingly bad conditions. Maybe you want to go for a badge, or just cover a little more territory in your cross-country flying. We are glued to this sport by obsessive self-improvement, and a little more speed soon becomes the focus of that obsession.
A better pilot or a better glider?
Many pilots think that the key to going faster is to spend a lot of money on new gliders. They don’t go to contests because “I won’t be competitive in this old thing.” In fact, small differences in pilot technique outweigh huge differences in expensive fiberglass. You usually see new gliders at the top of the scoresheet only because great pilots tend to put the money and effort into flying the latest gliders. The top pilots would sill win if they had to fly 20 year old gliders.
To see what a little thinking and practicing can do, let’s set a goal of cutting down 3 circles per hour. This doesn’t seem like much, maybe one circle every other thermal. How many of us do not, three times per hour, take a circle that gains nothing; maybe searching for a thermal that isn’t there, indecisive about leaving, or centering poorly? That seems like an achievable goal for a season’s practice.
Each circle takes about 25 seconds; 3 times 25 seconds divided by an hour is 2 percent or 20 contest points. In Figure 1, I used the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">US</st1:country-region></st1:place> handicaps to plot performance against cost. Cutting 3 circles per hour is worth about $20,000! It is like moving up one generation in gliders, for free. And given the choice, wouldn’t it be a lot more fun to be a better pilot in a worse glider than to be a poor pilot in an expensive glider?

Speed and Modern MacCready theory
Now, how to go faster? I have spent a lot of time watching fast pilots, listening to them, reading articles by and about them, and trying to understand what they do and what they say they do, which are not always the same thing. Techniques have changed since the classic writings by Moffat, Reichmann, and Byars and Holbrook, and distilling the essence of the Brigliadori is not easy. I’ll point out some of the innovations that I see. I have also updated the classic MacCready theory to take account of the fact that thermals are random and height is limited[1]. This mathematical theory seems to accord well with what fast pilots do.
Reichmann refined this calculation. Thermals are often weaker at the top and bottom than in the middle. Reichmann showed that you should use the weaker “initial” thermal strength as the MacCready value for the preceding glide. If you fly a bit faster, you will have to make up your altitude in that weaker lift, not in the booming lift near the top of the thermal.
You should always take any thermal greater than the current MacCready value, and Reichmann applied this idea to the last thermal: stay in the last thermal until it weakens so much that it equals the initial climb of the next thermal. Thus, Reichmann’s rule: Initial climb in the next thermal = MacCready setting = final climb in the last thermal.
These calculations are obviously simplified. Most importantly, we really don’t know where the next thermal will be and how strong it will be. We want to know the right MacCready value, given the chances of finding thermals of various strengths, and given the altitude in hand to search for them.
Figure 2 presents an answer to this question, flying a discus on a good day in Northern Europe and the <st1:place w:st="on">Eastern US</st1:place>. I specify that thermals rise to 2000 m. I specify the probability of finding thermals shown in Table 1. For example, if you travel 2 km, you have a 20% chance of finding a 0.5 m/s thermal, a 10% chance of finding a 1m/s thermal, and so on. In 10 km, there is a 90% chance of finding a 0.5m/s or better thermal, as 61% chance of finding a 1 m/s or better thermal, and so on. There are enough weak thermals that you are pretty sure of staying up. There are a few really good thermals, but you’d better not go barreling around counting on them. Still, you want to adjust your strategy so that if you find one, you can take advantage of it. I solve the dynamic program for maximizing average speed, valuing landouts as they are in competitions.
Thermal | 2 km | 2 km | 10 km | 20 km |
Strength m/s | Point | Cumulative probability | ||
0.5 | 20 | 37 | 90 | 99 |
1 | 10 | 17 | 61 | 84 |
2 | 5 | 7 | 30 | 52 |
3 | 2 | 2 | 10 | 18 |
Table 1. Thermal assumptions. “Point” gives the probability of finding each thermal in the first 2 km.
“Cumulative” gives the chance of finding a thermal this strong or stronger in the indicated number of Km.

Figure 2. Optimal MacCready value vs. altitude, using the thermals of Table 1, and no waterballast.
Dashed line: Discus with no 0.5 m/s thermals.
You can read several rules from Figure 2.
The optimal MacCready value rises from less than 0.5 m/s at 200 meters to 2 m/s at 2000 meters. The reason is simple: range. If you stop for nothing less than 2 m/s at 300 meters, you are soon going to meet a nice farmer. We knew this of course. Even the earliest explanations of MacCready theory added advice such as “take anything to stay up when you’re low.” If you should “take anything when you’re low” there must be a middle range where you should “take mediocre thermals ”, and that is Figure 2’s advice.
Many books warn that after a low save, it’s important to recharge your psychology and not work your 1 m/s thermal all the way to cloudbase. Figure 2 refines this idea. You might get low, and find a 1.5 m/s thermal. You take it. Around 800 meters, though, you should start getting impatient, leave and try to find something better. You might not, and have to take another 1 or 1.5 m/s thermal, but at 800 meters, you are more likely to find something better than you are likely to have to accept something worse. When you do find that something better, you’ll have the altitude to use it. Cloudbase is the worst place you can be. If you run in to a 5 m/s thermal at cloudbase, you can’t take it anywhere!
Conversely, Figure 2 means that if you find a lucky, strong thermal, you should stay in it even as it weakens. A pilot who finds a 3 m/s thermal should be grateful for the gift. If it cools off to 2 m/s, he should still stay in the thermal up to 1800 m. Don’t leave until the thermal you are in is weaker than the next thermal you are likely to find, and the Mc setting you are willing to cruise at to get there.
Many pilots and books describe flying in a “height band” for the day. Together, the last two points dynamically define such a band. If you get less choosey as you get lower, you are more likely to climb up. If you get more choosey as you get higher, you are likely not to do so. The band is not, as is often described, fixed. You don’t, say, climb at 0.1 m/s if you’re a bit lower than you’d like, nor do you bail out of 6 m/s if you reach some “upper band.”
In my calculation, the best thermals of the day are 3 m/s. Yet the optimal MacCready setting never goes over 2, and will be more like 1.5 through the typical range of the flight.
The basic principle behind the calculations in Figure 2 is this:
If you know you are going to be desperate up ahead, you should start conserving altitude now. Suppose that you are at 900 meters. Looking ahead 10 km, you think there is half a chance you will find a 2 m/s thermal. However, there is half a chance that you will not find any thermal, wind up low, and be quite happy to take 1 m/s. Your MacCready value now should be 1.5 m/s. This is a good principle to use in thinking about what MacCready value to set. I used this principle to ask the computer to work back from the finish to find the right MacCready values for any combination of altitude and distance to go.
The curve in Figure 2 moves around according to the weather, the glider, and the pilot. Obviously, the curve shifts to the left in weak weather and to the right in strong weather. Less obviously,
On most flights, it takes at least a couple of turns to center the thermal. A pretty good pilot can start climbing at the thermal’s maximum rate in 4 turns – 2 minutes. The rest of us flog around longer than that. Table 2 shows what 2 minutes of centering time does to the achieved climb rate.
Height |
| Thermal strength (m/s) |
| ||
Gain (m) | 0.5 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 5 |
250 | 0.40 | 0.67 | 1.0 | 1.2 | 1.5 |
500 | 0.44 | 0.81 | 1.4 | 1.7 | 2.3 |
1000 | 0.47 | 0.89 | 1.6 | 2.2 | 3.1 |
2000 | 0.48 | 0.94 | 1.8 | 2.5 | 3. |
Table 2. Achieved climb rate if it takes 2 minutes to center a thermal.
As you can see, a few minutes of centering time has a dramatic effect on achieved climb rates! The effect is larger for stronger thermals, and for smaller height gains. Managing this centering time is the next crucial piece of flying strategy. For many thermals, the decision to stop doesn’t depend so much on how strong you think the thermal is, as how easy it will be to center. If you feel the right kind of surges and can roll right in to a 3 m/s thermal for 900 meters, that is better than having to center a 5 m/s thermal for the same height gain.
Many modern flight computers include an average climb for the whole thermal – from the minute you switch in to climb mode or start circling. These “reality meters” are wonderful checks on your enthusiasm. When I bought a flight computer with this feature, I was amazed that what I thought of as a “3 m/s day” was often really a 1.5 m/s day. I felt a lot better about my seemingly wimpy intrathermal speeds.
Centering time affects classic calculations such as Reichmann’s, that presume you know what the next thermal will be like and where it will be. The lower of average climb and initial climb (after centering) determines the MacCready setting. The “initial climb” rule considers how much lower will you arrive at the next thermal if you fly a little faster. The “average climb” rule considers how many more thermals will you have to center if you fly a little faster. The price of altitude is the lower of the two climb rates.
When it takes time to center thermals, it is worth staying in a thermal somewhat weaker than you would stop for. The curve of Figure 2 breaks into two curves, a weaker “stay” curve and a stronger “stop” curve. The difference is strongest higher up. The speed decision is based on the lower value.
Many pilots follow rules such as “don’t stop unless you can gain at least 300 meters.” Like any rule, this one is meant to be broken, but it contains a grain of truth. It’s worth stopping at any altitude if the thermal is strong enough, and especially if it feels smooth so that you will not have to center it. But to stop in any thermal you must amortize the centering investment in a decently long climb.
Of course, “fly the MacCready speed” does not mean we chase the vario needle around. Lags in the instrument and the pilot means that most pilots fly relatively constant speeds, unless long stretches of lift or sink ahead are clear. You choose that relatively constant speed based on the MacCready value.
Pilots often criticize MacCready theory, noticing that the exact speed you fly isn’t that crucial. 10 km/h one way or the other will not make a great deal of difference. However, 20 km/h will make a big difference. More importantly, while gliding a few km/h too fast or slow won’t make much difference, choosing thermals one m/s too low or insisting on thermals one m/s too strong will make a huge difference to your speed. Deciding when to stop and when to leave thermals, and achieving the best average climb rate, are the most important determinants of cross-country speed. This decision is as much a part of “MacCready theory” as is the decision of what speed to fly – the MacCready values in Figure 2 apply equally to each decision.
It is a common misconception that you should use MacCready settings that are systematically lower than the worst thermal you would take, in order to get more range. It is a mathematical fact that if you are cruising at a MacCready 1, you will always do better by stopping for a (smooth, easily centered, bottom-to-top average) 2 m/s thermal, at least for a short climb until you can cruise faster.
However, the misconception contains a grain of truth. When you add up the effects of low initial climb rates, centering times, and the fact that the average thermal you will climb in is stronger than the weakest thermal you would take, the correct MacCready value is a lot less than the peak averager reading in the best thermal of the day that you brag about in the bar after the flight. So, yes, pilots now use MacCready settings much lower than they used to. It does not mean “MacCready theory is dead”, it means “use the right climb rate.”
The MacCready value governs other decisions as well, including course deviations. It is surprising how far off course you should go. For example, by going 30 degrees off course, you have to fly 13% further. If you average 100 km/h, 5 km 30 degrees off course costs you 23 seconds. At a MacCready setting of 1m/s, this is worth it if you gain more than 23 meters. Just about any cloud or haze dome will net you 23 meters. (You don’t have to gain 23 meters, you just have to gain 23 meters over the pilot who flies straight.) If it nets you 50 meters, constantly zig zagging 30 degrees off course from cloud to cloud will give you a much better speed than going straight. As an extreme, going 1 km perpendicular to the courseline will cost 36 seconds. It’s worth it at MacCready 1 if it nets you 36 meters.
When you learned to follow the towplane, you and your instructor analyzed the task. Then you flew to learn to do in the air things you understood on the ground. By the time you got your license, following the towplane became automatic, and you probably would have trouble explaining how to do it to a beginner.
Cross-country flying works the same way. You start with the basics, thermaling and navigation. This article is about the intermediate stage, getting up to speed on course. You have to think about and analyze these decisions on the ground, and then use your flying time to learn to make them in the air, and then to make them subconsciously. We fly to learn to make in the air decisions that we understand on the ground. This is not easy, and requires dedicated practice. I know this from experience: I write articles on theory, yet from lack of practice I still end each flight with a list of silly decisions to mull over.
Great pilots have made this all automatic. They often have trouble describing what they do as you might have trouble describing how to follow the towplane. They fly thinking about weather, psychology, and contest tactics. Our job is to get to that stage!
For technical types, I have only scratched the surface of what the mathematical technique – dynamic programming – can do to advance the theory of soaring flight. Explicit treatment of centering times, thermals whose strength and character changes with altitude, better thermal models, upwind and downwind turnpoints, objectives other than expected value of contest score, comparing the program solutions to flight recorder data of top pilots’ decisions, and many more questions only await enough wintertime programming to be solved.
[1] faculty.chicagogsb.edu/john.cochrane/research/Papers/upwind_and_downwind.doc
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