Tinworm-wings: All the Way Home

Friday, 23 January 2009

All the Way Home

Apart from a joy-ride with Neill when I was up at Sackville a few weeks ago, it is ages since I have been able to fly - because of the terrible weather. Neill was right about cramming as much flying into December as possible because bad weather was coming. I flew loads - something like eleven hours in my Dragonfly - and now I am desperate not to get rusty, though, encouragingly, the short flight in Neill's Quantum went well.

I really should be getting Met and Nav out of the way, but I have been idle. In fact, not having the intensity of the 6a.m. starts, the late evening two hour or three hour drives home or the nights in B&B and the hours of flying or ground school or even just watching and waiting at Sywell Aerodrome for the wind to drop, has left me feeling a little lost; unable to settle down and do anything else.

Last time I was at Sywell Paul Dewhurst lent me a Garmin Etrex, a handheld GPS system, generally used by walkers. I wouldn't be able to use anything like this in my cross-country qualifiers, but trying Paul's has convinced me that it would be great to have one with me afterwards. I want to be good at dead reckoning, so I'd never want to be dependent on GPS, but the Etrex has one function that is very useful. It points home! (or to any other location you have programmed into it.) You don't even have to know your grid reference to use it. You can just get it to read where it is when you set out, save that in its memory, then when you are out in the middle of nowhere, tell the Etrex you want to go there and it will point home.

I haven't tried anything more complex on it than that, and I am not sure I want to. I have taught it where I live and got it to take me home from school the other day and it did the job (though the arrow points as the crow flies and of course I had to go off track to get there...but that is no problem in the air. Just as well, because when I flew with Neill last time, I really lost my bearings; everything looks so different up there. It would have been great to have an arrow pointing home.

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Ground handling (how to store an aeroplane at home and get it to the airfield)

A trial flight in a Thruster, when I was 28, c.1991

I have started to learn to fly before...TWICE! First time round I had just graduated and got a job at an aerodrome in Cornwall, where I earned flying hours by fuelling microlights, giving hourly weather reports to the Met office etc. The weather was bad, so there was little flying to be had...and in the end I was paid with broken propellers and bits of crashed fuselage to hang on the wall. The boss was a great bloke called Ian Stokes, who had been a leading light in forming the BMAA and had manufactured Thrusters in the early days . In retirement he moved to The Gambia and became a publican and, shockingly, was murdered this year.

Flying Rogues

ten years on from my first experiences at Moorland Flying School (and now nearly ten years ago) the flying school was under new management and my girlfriend and I booked full courses. We both made good progress initially but never felt we were being moved on and had difficulty pinning the instructor down to signing our logbooks. When another instructor signed himself as P1, we got suspicious, contacted the CAA and were horrified to learn that our instructor did not have a current instructor rating, that we had not been insured and that none of our hours counted towards our licences. We were eventually refunded and the instructors were prosecuted by the CAA.

The very sympathetic CAA investigator spoke to the BMAA on our behalf and my hours have been allowed to count (at the discretion of the school). But in point of fact, I flew way over the minimum number of hours subsequently, so it is really quite academic in the end.

Around 2001 an instructor in Norfolk tried to convince me that if I bought his aeroplane he could teach me at a cut rate, as I'd then be using my own plane. Great idea, I thought, except that it turned out that the aircraft in question had failed a noise test and could not be used from the instructor's field. He later admitted that I would have to learn on his aeroplane at the normal rate. He resisted showing me the paperwork, kept avoiding me and eventually, when it was quite clear I wasn't going to buy without the paperwork, told me to F-off.

So far my experience has been that there are a lot of rogues in flying, which is one reason why I was so very impressed by the professional set-up at Sywell.

by air to Africa

My sister and I were lucky to fly many thousands of miles in the 1960s and '70s in many aircraft types, including BOAC VC-10s, Boeing 707s and even a Nigerian Airways Dakota, as our dad (and later our mum) had teaching posts in Kenya and Nigeria. Those were still the romantic days of flying, when passengers walked across tarmac and up steps, rather than walking down the tubes that have turned passenger flying into a mundane affair. (Mind you, aren't take-offs still incredibly exciting!?)

Back then air hostesses GAVE children the sorts of nick-nacks that their parents have to pay fortunes for from the airline catalogue these days; things like model aeroplanes, keyrings etc. We were also given sweets to help us cope with depressurisation. (And they were hostesses, so nobody give me a hard time)

Mum says that I cracked my first joke when I was small, on a flight out to Kenya, when I said, "Mummy, shouldn't there be a wing on this side of the plane too". Apparently I got her with that one.

At Kano airport I remember standing behind an engine and thinking how hot it still was....and then being told that the engine was cold. The heat was Kano. I got a headache and took several days to aclimatise.

The airport perri-ways at Kano were littered with aircraft that didn't make it, including a burnt-out Mig 15. The Nigerian Airforce flew them and my dad played squash with one of their pilots, Ben, at the Kano Club. I recall a Mig fly-past on my birthday. Was it arranged with Ben over a beer? Was it a pure coincidence?

At Entebbe airport (Uganda) I remember climbing down the steps on to the runway and being encircled by soldiers with machine guns, who then went through all our belongings and confiscated my cherished Swiss Army penknife, purchased on one of numerous European stop-overs. That was in the twitchy time after the Israeli hijacking ...and mum had to stifle my protests.

Before my first flight to Nairobi, as an infant, I was scared stiff. I didn't understand that I wouldn't have to sit astride the fuselage, as I did on my pedalcar! In a funny way, I not only overcame that fear but have come full circle; microlighting is just like sitting on that pedalcar......open to the elements - real flying!