Not my finest three hours, I have to say. I launched onto the Gache in a weakening north-westerly to enjoy the company of several other gliders also having a hard time getting away. After several near-misses I felt it prudent to hunt for lift in more select areas which, of course, made my life more difficult.

Eventually I reached Authon where the general standard of airmanship got really scary; at one point my Flarm was screaming at me about a glider in my five o'clock, just above me. There was no way I could see it, or be sure that it was above and not below, I couldn't turn left because of the ridge, or right because of my stalker. The Duo behind me then flew over me, maybe 20 feet directly overhead, and I immediately left the area. I won't mention the nationality concerned; let's just say that I won't be buying Toblerone in the near future...

I resigned myself to looking for low-level saves around the cuvette, opportunities for which were abundant. Still, the other Brits did well, getting to Grand Berard, so for some it was a good day.