Evolving Wings

Before you read any further, I’d like to make a disclaimer…

I’d like to warn you that this blog is self-involved, self-indulgent, probably self-obsessed, and in places arrogant. I am conscious of this, but I make no apologies because primarily I’m writing this for me. It’s a raw and un-ashamed record of my highs and lows of emotion, progression, failures, drive and motivations, and it’s something designed to help me remember my direction when I happen to hit tough spots. It’s a debrief tool, but what’s more, it’s a way of helping myself to absorb and savour this experience that little bit more. You never know - it may even contribute to making me fly better!

I welcome you to view my ramblings, and hope you can share in this experience. But I do hope you will forgive me for any incidences where the content appears self-centred or brash; in these cases I stick to my excuse above.

Anyway, now we’re straight on that, please come in and share this experience with me, warts and all…

Allow me to introduce the cast of the adventure…

John; the Flying Instructor (or First Officer depending on which hat he’s wearing)

Mike; the CFI - decides whether I can go play on my own or not… Probably the only time I’ll ever get a shot of him in the back seat. 

Simon, Instructor; no doubt won’t forgive me for the desk-jockey shot… ex-RAF fast-jet pilot (Lightnings no less)…

And Me… Aspiring aviator…

As I’ve mentioned previously, Turweston is turning out to be a great little airfield for “treats”…

Regularly enough to keep me very happy, we get interesting visitors.

With the World Aerobatics Championships coming up at Silverstone Circuit in August, it meant a welcome visit from some of the British team members.

An Edge 540, an Extra 330SC, three Cap232’s and a Sukhoi SU26.

Awesome.

Hmmm. Now which would I like to fly today…?

No doubt a bit of a surprise the way that title suddenly pops-up… In truth it is to me too. But there is (as you’ve probably noticed) a bit of a gap in the blog… So I’d best give a synopsis of what happened in the run-up first (detailed posts to follow later).

After a couple of semi-succesful navs (including a land away at Leicester), I then went about 7 or 8 weeks without flying for various reasons, but with a week of shifts available I managed to grab it by the balls and get a full week of flying booked up. With aeroplanes and instructors available for all five weekdays, it was looking like it could be a productive week if all went to plan. The basic intention was; Monday - Refresher. Tuesday - Wellesbourne/Sywell Nav Dual. Wednesday - Wellesbourne/Sywell Nav Solo. Thursday - QXC Eastbound leg Dual. Friday - QXC Westbound leg Dual… That would hopefully then leave me ready to book the QXC up for a time in the next few weeks, which would probably get cancelled a couple of times etc etc. The QXC is of course one of the three major milestones towards a PPL. First solo, QXC (Qualifying Cross Country), then skills test. And that’s a wrap. If you’d have asked me at the start of that week, I’d have thought I’d be aiming for a QXC some time after mid-June at the earliest.

As it transpired, Monday was written off by poor weather. Tuesday, I did the Wellesbourne/Sywell Dual with Mike. Wednesday, again poor weather - so some confidence checking in the circuit with Mike.

Then Thursday and Friday I flew with Simon; firstly to Cambridge via Grafham Water (the Eastbound QXC leg, with a landing at Cambridge). Then Friday was to overhead Leicester again via Grafham Water (essentially the Westbound QXC leg).  Somehow, in the course of all of that, I managed to convince both myself and my instructors that I hadn’t forgotten too much about flying in my time off.

On the Thursday and Friday Dual QXC legs I’d flown pretty well (if I do say so myself!) dealing well with Cambridge ATC, and generally doing OK with the Nav. The single biggest step forward was that Simon had got me off of keeping me head buried in the cockpit, and instead got me looking outside, ahead of the aeroplane and with time to spare to do all the normal piloting process management. In the space of four days of flying, it had suddenly all got a hundred times easier. And I was confident I was ready for my QXC. Simon was too.

In one of those defining moments of my PPL training, Simon pushed me to find a way to get the QXC done ASAP. There were plenty of potential sticking points - me getting holiday, Simon’s roster, the weather, A/C tech given some issues we’d been having… It was a slim chance. But I went into the following week with a holiday booked, ready to take the opportunity if it came up and all the other factors went my way.

To use the one-armed-bandit metaphor, the three lemons came up first time. Miracle of miracles, I found myself at the airfield the following Thursday, with the weather looking passible, an aircraft and instructor available and the real chance of going to sleep that night having taken a massive stride towards a PPL.

At the start of the day, the weather was generally good, but with the cloudbase on the low side. Leicester was reporting 1300′QFE. We needed minimum 2000′ for the GO. So I waited.

I went over my plan several times. The route was Turweston -> Cambridge (dog-legged via Grafham Water), then Cambridge -> Leicester (again dog-legged via Grafham Water), then Leicester back to Turweston via a further dog-leg. 150 nautical miles all in as required of this test by the CAA and with the two land aways at “foreign” airfields. This was going to be a massive departure beyond the limits of my flying so far. I’d done a lot of preparation in the nights before, and had been thinking through the route in pretty much every spare moment for the past few days. But as time wore on the nerves started to build. Eventually, the clouds lifting as the day warmed up, Simon again called Leicester and this time got a more promising 2000′QFE for the cloudbase.

This was it; time for the off.

Simon sent me on my way with some useful advice - “Bring back 2 wings, 3 wheels and most importantly, the QXC certificate with signatures and stamps from both airfields.” Good advice - without that document completed at each airfield, this trip was worth nothing.

I still had a small hint of nerves as I got myself comfortable in JR, but overall I felt ready. After all the waiting during the day I just needed to be airborne and easing my way into it.

Start-up, taxi, power checks all went fine. The only difference to normal being the addition of the “Student” prefix to my callsign. At the end of 27, deliberately taking my time over everything I gave myself a moment before feeding the power in to think confident. Then it was time. “Student Golf-Juliet-Romeo Rolling”. RPM full, T’s, P’s, airspeed rising. A fantastic experience gets an increment more real. But there’s not too much time to savour the emotions - I’ve got a job to do, and my focus is 100%. I just need to get to Cambridge and land safely.

On the climb out I get the FFART checks squared away. Then make a call to say I’m climbing into the overhead, breaking off from the climbing Downwind leg. I’ve elected to set course from overhead (Silverstone was the other option). But today I want to keep things simple and give myself time. By going for an overhead departure I aim to prevent lots of tasks coming up at once. This seems to work as I have plenty of time to turn in the overhead and set heading (remembering to check the DI vs compass). Then I start the timer… This is a change to my process. I’d previously been using my normal clock function (on my stopwatch) and noting the minutes before then working out arrival times etc. A ridiculous amount of overhead - simply starting a stopwatch and watching the minutes tick by is a far more efficient method, giving back some vital time as well as simply reducing the task list by a couple of steps.

Radio call to say I’m departing to the East, then gross error checks (today Silverstone, A43, Northampton, Towcester…) plenty of landmarks visible. Then a FREDA. I’m now officially en-route! Straight away thought turns to the next task - I’ve decided to get a Basic service off of Sywell - which sits slap bang in the middle of my triangular route for the day. So as I approach the M1 I hand-off Turweston, and make my initial call to Sywell. I don’t think they had a chart in front of them as I described my routing as they ask me to report passing through the overhead… I hope I don’t end up overhead - I plan to pass about 8 miles south of them! So I clarify this then get on with the nav.

Again the landmarks are clear and making sense. I’ve spent so much time thinking about this over the last few days that I’ve got a pretty good picture of what I should see, when. I’m happy with my position in relation to Northampton (MK a similar distance off to the right), and I can already see what I think is Olney - my halfway point. I’m a little off to the left; about 5deg error. Podington becomes visible, then Bedford to the right (which I should be tracking directly overhead). So at my halfway point I make a 10 deg heading correction. Grafham water becomes visible ahead; my first-leg turnpoint. So now I can relax.

I’ve managed to get a comfortable 2500′ QNH as planned - and although the vis isn’t brilliant, it’s good enough. There are a few lumps and bumps below the cumulus, but it’s smooth enough overall and the cockpit workload is easily manageable. For the first time I start to relax properly and enjoy it. Here I am, 35 miles from home on my own in an aeroplane and heading for Cambridge.  As I approach Grafham Water it’s back to work, and hand-off  Sywell ready to talk to Cambridge Approach. I’ve already got the ATIS, having had the frequency dialled in on the radio in the GPS (resisting the urge to get my destination waypoint dialled into the old school Garmin GPS unit too - that’s for emergencies only today!). This is a real advantage of JR - three radios to play with, another little help with cockpit workload management.

Although it’s all in hand, the miles have flown by pretty quickly - and I’m conscious of this and trying to get my work done with Cambridge Approach ASAP before it’s all on top of me. It’s already time for the difficult bit. With Bourne in sight to the right, and the two dual carriageways funneling me into Cambridge, I make my initial call to Cambridge Approach. It all goes slickly, and after a quick request from them to confirm my A/C type, I’m tuned with a Basic Service and handed off to Cambridge Tower. All that practising in the car on the way to work has paid off, and my RT is up to scratch. This is definitely an area I have John to thank for - and one which Simon seemed happy with on the practise legs the week before. JM’s teaching has made sure my RT is not a weakness - and I’m grateful for this now, dealing with the proper ATC at Cambridge.

With the field in sight, again my preparation has paid off; as it doesn’t take much thought to figure out the deadside (always Northerly at Cambridge) and work out my positioning for the descent. Still communicating efficiently with Tower, I position overhead and start to spiral my way down over the Southern edge of the city. This is ace. Although I’m starting to sweat a little with the increased pressure of the traffic around the circuit, it’s all looking good still. And I haven’t made a single mistake as yet. Descent complete, crossing over the threshold of 05, and joining the crosswind leg of 23. Still it’s all looking good. But the workload is steadily increasing. There are three other aircraft in the circuit, and two awaiting lining up. All are a factor in my own positioning.

Onto the downwind leg, I fire into the pre-landing checks. My processes have been spot on so far - on previous trips I’d have forgotten these. But today not a single detail is going missing. As I trundle along the downwind leg there is chatter on frequency that means I can’t call downwind. And the first of the aircraft on the ground starts to line up. So I elect to extend my downwind a little and call late downwind. It’s starting to get a fraction tight, and I feel a little more of a tingle of sweat on my palms and forehead. But it’s still relatively under control.

I turn base (a short leg due to my positioning and the fact that I’m still blitzing in at 90kts). Then quickly onto finals and get established. Due to my high speed, I get high quickly and have to be quick in getting fully configured. In order to get back onto the correct glideslope I have to have the throttle closed for a long time. But gradually the approach path comes back. The departing A/C is climbing away as I get lined up with the centreline, and it all starts to look good again. Now just concentrating on getting the landing right. I get a “cleared to land” from the Tower, and read it back. Just concentrate on the landing.

As I start to get into the roundout and ease back-pressure on, I realise I’ve fallen into the classic trap of rounding out early due to the wider runway giving an optical illusion. So I ease off a little to get the speed back up. It sort of works, and I find myself holding off (albeit still a fraction high and slow) before the wheels touch. Not a greaser, but certainly not a disaster… I start braking, relatively hard as I can see taxiway C rapidly approaching (where I expect them to send me). I overshoot it by about 10m… Not a major problem, as Tower gives me a backtrack to Charlie. Without the famous 27-tree to remind me, I forgot to get the carb-heat off on finals… It wouldn’t be the first time today!

So I make the turn, and trundle back to the exit. And probably start breathing again! Moving beyond the runway entrance markings, I stop to do my after-landing checks. As I’m sat there, I get a call from Tower to ask me to hold position as a helicopter will hover-taxi past me. With the after-landing checks done, I get to relax for a second and watch as the R22 wafts past. This is fun! Then I get instructions to taxi to “Whiskey” on the grass GA parking area. In a matter of minutes, I’m parked up, shut down, and elated! I made it!

JR is neatly parked on the grass in Cambridge; and the first part of the QXC is complete. Now - the most important thing to remember of the whole trip; the paperwork. Then the second most important thing - the high-vis jacket. The last thing I want having got here safely is a ticking off from the ground staff here because I’m not wearing one…

The walk (in fact stroll) from the aircraft to the GA Centre is fantastic. I’m in Cambridge!!! I got myself and JR there in one piece; it all went smoothly! I get booked in, stump up the £25 landing fee, and get the paperwork completed and stamped, including a “V.Good” in the critique of my Airmanship and Landing required on the certificate. Then I give Simon a call at Turweston to let him know that I’ve made it safely. All good so far. We decide to make this a quick turnaround, in order to get the main part of the trip out of the way before it gets too late…

JR on the grass at Cambridge… I put her there!! Awesome… … C130J of Marshalls Aerospace in the background…

I make my way back to JR and get settled in ready for the next shift. There’s one hour on the clock from the first leg, the second leg will be of similar duration. It feels routine getting sorted in the cockpit, and I get started up and request taxi instructions (having received information “Uniform”). Tower routes me to the left along the grass, up to hold “Alpha”… From this I know where I’m supposed to be going, but pause at one intersection to check I’m not about to taxi down a dead-end (a crest in the grass making the taxiway unclear). Just as I spot it on the airfield plates, Tower pipe up to tell me to turn down the taxiway I was hesitating over. This takes me to the apron where the C130J is sitting with a groundcrew around it. I give them a safe berth, and align myself in a suitable comprimise position ready for power-checks…

As I start my power-checks, I hear the C130 get start-clearance; and over my shoulder I can see the big Scimitar props on the Herc start winding up. As all four of his engines get running, I can hear them over the comparitively feeble putt-putt of my 4-cylinder Lycoming. This isn’t quite the peace and quiet of Turweston! Power-checks complete, I get a clearance to line-up on 23, then as I make my way onto the runway I get clearance to take-off. Power in, and  away we go again!

A nice neat climb-out, but immediately busy as I get a call from Tower to request some information as to my onward plans - I tell them I’d like to climb to 2500′QNH, they respond to say “Not above 2000′QNH until working Approach”. Then they hand me off to Cambridge Radar. I make my call to Radar, and get a friendly and positive “welcome back, nice to hear from you again”… This is a nice touch - either for the benefit of my confidence given the “Student” prefix, or because they’ve been happy with having to deal with me for the last hour. They also give me a squawk, which I get dialled in; chuffed with myself for remembering to switch to Standby first. Again I’m on top of the detail, and this is helping my confidence.

The aeroplane could pretty much fly itself back to Grafham Water, and in fact I can see it as soon as I get established on heading. So this makes for another relaxed ten minutes en-route where all is under control. Mid-way along the leg I hear Radar give some traffic information to a Beech Baron from the Coastguard that is nearby; this confuses me for a second as the details (altitude, position, routing) of the other aircraft sound similar to mine, but they report it as “unknown, possibly a C172″. So I can only assume it wasn’t me… In any case I crank up my lookout. 

This behind me, I start setting myself to hand-off from Cambridge Radar, when they beat me to it and suggest that as I’m leaving their area, I free-call Wyton and squawk 7000. This catches me out, as I haven’t planned to talk to Wyton, and as a result have no idea of their frequency and callsign. It takes less than a second to get the frequency off the chart and get it dialled in, but I then have to check the flight-guide quickly for their callsign and to get an idea of their ATSU type. In this little moment though, I am again chuffed to bits with my workload management; operating with controlled haste to get the book out, find the required information (still aviating first), before then moving on with the call (at the same time being on top of getting my turn onto my new heading done, gross error checks and FREDA).

In any case, this is all actually a waste of time as after three attempts at an initial call to Wyton, I find out from an aircraft on the ground that Wyton Approach is actually “on a break” and won’t respond. So they pass me a QNH and a circuit status, and I make a traffic only call to explain my routing and intentions. That exchange done, it’s back to navigating. I can already see Thrapston (by following the dual carriageway out of Huntingdon), and again this gives me confidence that all is good with the en-route…

Pretty soon Corby becomes clear on the nose, although I take my time in checking that it is genuinely Corby and not Kettering. The power-station towers are enough of a confidence boost. So I set my heading to aim towards the right part of the town. As I approach abeam Northampton, I change frequency to Sywell and again pick up a Basic Service from them. Then just as I arrive abeam, there is an interesting call on frequency - a helicopter, “Rainbow One Romeo” - who identifies to be “a Royal Flight out of Windsor!”, reporting the same altitude as me and routing South-North over Northampton! Deciding that a QXC isn’t the time to be getting in the way of a flight like that, I report abeam Northampton to the North and give my altitude and routing just to keep the helo informed… But so far this leg has been great fun; relaxed, confident and in control, so I have time to enjoy looking out the window and absorbing this milestone.

The terrain becomes featureless beyond Northampton, and I start to get concerned about my heading - it feels as though I’m tracking too far left (although I don’t have any positive visual queues ahead, it “just doesn’t feel right”). Then I identify a couple of disused airfields to the left and a lake to the right of track. All confirm that I’m too far left. So I make an on the fly guestimated correction, fairly confident that I’m not going to miss Leicester City (as it’s huge!). The track beyond Corby passes very quickly, and I soon have to hand-off Sywell and pick up Leicester radio. As I go to make my initial call to them, I identify the field, and the pressure lifts another notch. As it is my earlier correction has worked, and the airfield is bang on the nose! I get another notch of confidence - making me feel like I could happily do this all day!!!

As I start to get tight into the field, I register that the circuit is quite busy. Added to that, the guy operating the A/G isn’t brilliantly helpful in terms of information (shows how good the guys at EGBT are), and is keeping his nose out of helping the traffic. So its slightly harder work than I’m expecting as I try to get the descent sorted and integrate with the circuit. Runway in use is 28, all circuits at Leicester are Left Handed, so I have to quickly calculate the deadside and setup for the descent. I arrive over the threshold of 28 ready and find that with the short runway at Leicester and my leisurely turn to the North, I don’t have the room to do a proper gentle semi-circular descent. Instead I have to go further North than is natural, and my descent becomes a bit sausage-shaped. But I make it to circuit height OK, and cross the threshold of 0f runway 10, taking a good lookout into the circuit. Again with the circuit busy it’s every man for themselves, so I decide to call Crosswind to give anyone ahead of me in the circuit a hurry-up…

When I get onto downwind, it starts to become clear that there will be a couple of A/C ahead of me, so I try to slow my circuit down a bit, and bang out my pre-landing checks. Turning Base, someone else on the ground decides to line-up (I couldn’t get a downwind call in over the chatter) so I extend my downwind a little and call “Late Downwind” when I can to give them the hint. They get rolling, but someone else follows! So I call “Base”. Fortunately my extended Downwind has given me enough room, and I find myself established on final with a nice clean run at an empty runway and nothing to worry about apart from the landing.

My landing is neat, although I was slightly flustered with all the traffic so I’m slightly hot and bothered. And again I forgot the carb-heat on finals…. Also I find I’m braking quite hard so as to not go blitzing past the inactive runway that is used for taxying to the parking; I didn’t want to be on the active runway any longer than necessary as there was someone coming in shortly behind me. But I make the turn-off, and announce “Runway Vacated”…

The airfield charts show parking along the inactive runway, but on the ground I find there are “No Parking” signs. Given this I’m fairly confident that parking is behind the tower, where club aircraft are normally positioned, but I decide it’s polite to ask. Shame I get a fairly blunt response as though I should have known better. Oh well…

Post landing checks done, it’s a simple taxi around to the parking, and I manage to get JR neatly sat in one of the nice spots on the hexagonal stand. Land-away number 2 is complete! I grab the paperwork and the high-vis again (same considerations as before!!) and get myself into the tower to get the all important stamp. I’m greeted by the voice from the other end of the radio, who reports my landing (on the certificate) as merely “satisfactory”! As far as I was concerned, my Airmanship and Landing in the busy circuit without much help in the way of info from the A/G was “mature, measured, safe and of a good standard for a relatively inexperienced pilot”!..

I have time to grab a drink, and again put in the call to Turweston to “check-in”. Time is getting on now and the late afternoon is settling into a fine summer balm. I spend ten minutes in the nice upstairs cafe/bar area at Leicester, before then deciding it’s time to head home and finish the job…

JR on the ground at Leicester! I put here there number 2!!..

2 hours of fantastic fun flying, and two land-aways… Who wouldn’t be smiling! 

Time-up at Leicester, I get back into JR and get fired up. It’s all routine now, and before long I’m at the end of one of the inactive runways doing my power-checks. A school aircraft (C152) has followed me down, and it makes sense to me from our positioning that they should go ahead; so I announce that I will go number 2 to them and get myself out of the way so they can pass… Then, with them out of the way, I line-up carefully (again traffic and quiet A/G making me extra cautious), and for the third time today I’m staring down an empty runway with the engine purring eagerly and the power tickling it’s way through the throttle lever and into the palm of my hand.

On the climb out, I notice that I’ve got myself into a nasty habit of climbing with crossed-controls… Something I’d spotted earlier, but still seem to be doing now. So I straighten it all out and everything gets more comfortable. This is the biggest point of the whole trip for me to work on, and something to look out for in the future…

Climb out into the overhead is all fine, and before long I’m setting course and departing to the South. Bruntingthorpe and Lutterworth are both quickly visible, and this gives me confidence to relax and enjoy the homeward journey. For a bit of fun, I dial up the Daventry VOR, and relax a bit on my heading flying, instead deciding to feature-crawl back. It’s a bit lazy, but I decide it’s a useful experiment and confidence test, and a natural extension to the good learning I’ve done during the week that has taught me to look out of the window more.

After changing frequency to Sywell for the third time, I get a good look at Bruntingthorpe, and easily make it overhead Lutterworth with the M1 in sight tracking down past Rugby then through Daventry. Just beyond Lutterworth, I’ve relaxed to the point where I suddenly realise how little I’m allowing myself to be free in the aeroplane, and after a check of the chart and a good lookout, I treat myself to a few minutes and a couple of orbits in order to enjoy the view and the feel of flying the aeroplane… I then head back over Lutterworth, reset the timer, and head my way back South down the M1. Daventry becomes clear on the nose, and I know that from the bend in the M1 I fly direct over the lake on the Eastern side, and this should take me straight home.

I spot Northampton to the left, Chipping Warden and Banbury to the right, then Brackley ahead, and what I think is Silverstone. Abeam Daventry I try to raise Turweston, but struggle initially. I can hear other aircraft on frequency, but not the tower - it may simply be that the tower is not occupied…

Now; on the dual practice of this leg I completely cocked up my arrival at Turweston, and got confused with the positioning of the airfield - so I had planned a standard overhead join back at Turweston this time to make sure I don’t make the same mistake. But in actual fact I spot the airfield from a good range, and given that the circuit sounds quiet, I decide to join downwind instead, assuming that 27 is still in use. I start my descent, and make a traffic only call, that Chris catches the tail-end of and responds to. As a result I get the QFE and runway (thankfully) and announce my intentions to join downwind.

From here in it’s all plane sailing… I remember my pre-landing checks, make a nice approach, and remember to put the carb-heat away on finals. I make a neat landing into the peace and quiet of an empty, early evening Turweston; the sinking summer sun signing off what has been a fantastic day… On the taxi back to the apron I feel complete. I’ve flown pretty much error-free all day, and loved every second of it.

Two wings, three wheels and a fully completed certificate in the folder back at Turweston. It’s been an amazing and momentous day. 3.3 hours solo, 150 miles covered, and land aways at two opposite points of a triangle covering a third of the width of the country. This has been amazing. I’ve flown a complete and complex sortie as the sole pilot-in-command of my aeroplane. Childhood dreams realized.

I can now, without hesitation, say that I’m a pilot.

The office for 3.3 hours…

Now it’s onto skills test revision, and the big one!!! The light at the end of the tunnel got brighter this week..!

A video of the Turweston Flying Club’s new formation flying course…

Visit the link here: http://www.turwestonflight.com/aviation/articles_and_news.htm

And view the video titled “Formation Flying Course 50 Seconds”

The shot of ‘BORK at the end is nothing short of genius…

The Reds need to up their game!

I’m a self confessed bobble-hatter. That much, should by now be well and truly clear. The sight and sound of a warbird at full boost, low level and high speed, still sends tingles down my arms and brings a smile to my face the same way it did when I was a small boy and my love of aeroplanes first exploded to the forefront of my childhood.

I remember it began with a gift from my Uncle Geoff; I must’ve only been six or so at the time. But I still clearly remember the moment it started. The two-colour, skill level 2 BAe Harrier GR3 (chunky Grey Wings, and a solidly good quality Dark Green Fuselage) was the start of a lifelong obsession, readily fuelled by family trips to North Weald Fighter Meet and Duxford Summer Airshows, back in the days when pyrotechnics were standard and Gary Numan spent his afternoons in the “Zero”/Harvard running away from the Corsair and Hellcat after having sent the Catalina limping off trailing smoke from an engine.

I can still picture the first time I saw an English Electric Lightning making its trademark full reheat running entry from right to left along the flightline, breaking right and hard into a max-rate climb leaving a row of car alarms honking and screeching below, barely audible amongst the rolling reverberating rumble of the thunderous Avon Turbojets… The big jet standing on its tail, rocketing upwards on a column of smoke, heat and noise; concentrated orange-yellow disks of energy blasting it upwards, my gaze following until it hurt my neck to try to track it any further. But still I’d try to keep my eyes on it anyway and not let it out of my sight.

Every morning at breakfast I’d eat my cereal while reading a book on aeroplanes, or the programme from the last airshow… I used to pride myself on being able to identify any aeroplane from the split second it became more than just a noise in the distance. The obsession never really stopped and that knowledge never really left me.  As I’ve got back into it recently, it turns out these days that most of the aeroplanes I grew up with are still around, displaying the same breathtaking displays they always have, in many cases with the same men in the cockpit.

Most of them are still where I first met them too - at Duxford, with The Fighter Collection. At the Legends Airshow last year I was convinced to join the FOTFC club in order to get a nice spot in an enclosure and a free flight line walk. It just so happened there were other opportunities to come out of the membership, and I readily accepted the latest one; the Friends of the Fighter Collection Evening. The format of the event was basically an evening of getting close to the aeroplanes, and a talk from a noteable aviator. But to be honest, I was there simply to get a chance to have a good nose around the warbirds. You’ll already know that I love peeking into cockpits of visiting A/C at Turweston; imagine my joy at getting let loose on The Fighter Collection!

The list includes but is not limited to; a P51-D Mustang, Spitfire MkVB, P40B Warhawk, Hellcat, Wildcat, Bearcat, Hawk 75, P39 Airacobra; these are all airworthy. And of course there are several others; P47G Thunderbolt, Beaufighter, Sea Fury; all at various stages in the painstaking process of restoration to flying condition.

I was there simply for the chance to have a look around that lot.

I arranged to go with a friend from work, and we were amongst the first to arrive and make our way into Hangar 2 where I was childishly excited to find that all the barriers were down, various cowlings were off, and it was a free for all from the outset. Tim (also with juvenile excitement about poking around  60 year old bits of engineering) and me were straight in; going our separate ways to start nosing around in wheel wells and wing folding mechanisms.

This was great. I have to say, the access to the aeroplanes was unparalleled; the talk was going to be a very secondary part of this evening for me. Anyway, a few pics for a flavour of the event…

Curtiss P40B Warhawk. A genuine survivor of Pearl Harbour. Beautifully done.

Grumman Wildcat. The gear retract on this is hand-wound. A peek inside the wheel well showed that the mechanism is a set of bicycle chains over a tiny gear. Designed by the office junior I would hazard a guess!!

Gorgeous Spitfire MkVB. PRISTINE! Just like my airfix kits…

And up here, this is where I sit…

If only..!

P47G restoration in progress. They use original drawings. Which are little works of art; I’d love to be able to do this…

The chance to prod around the aeroplanes was brilliant. I noticed a few interesting things; for instance a large number of them had a neat little mechanism of protruding red highlighted tabs that are visible when the gear is down and disappear when it is retracted. The same mechanism was in use on the wing mechanism on the Wildcat. Also noteworthy was that there were very few modern instruments in sight in the cockpits. I literally only saw one or two ADF’s or VOR’s. All A/C had new radios; but AI’s, ASI’s, VSI’s etc were all period. Great stuff…

After an hour or so of prodding and nosing, we were ushered over for the talk by John Beattie; OC Royal Navy Historic Flight. He provided a history of Naval Aviation which to be honest I actually quite enjoyed. It was a whistle stop tour, but enough to learn a few more things (JSF has been tested doing full auto-lands appropriate to carrier useage!!, the first Carrierborne A/C were Sopwith Biplanes etc…). And the talk was spattered with enough “old chap” personality to keep me amused. John liked to rib Harrier pilots for their egos; this was a running theme. And the moment that had me in stitches purely for it’s delivery (although being a relative pacifist as I like to think I am) was… “want to know the best way to kill a submarine?.. Nuclear Depth Bomb. Wonderful piece of kit.” Delivered the way only a military man would know how…

The talk was wrapped up in time for a nice curry; the warm food much appreciated as the hangar was desparately cold. Then it was time for the piste de resistance. Earlier on before the talk, the P51D had been rolled out into the dusk…

Now, in the crisp darkness, washed by the clear milky light of the big, full moon, the plan was to have some fun running Miss Velma up.

Landing lights and navigation lights on, the Merlin started readily, popping the occasional blue flame out of one or two of the exhaust ports; particular cylinders running just on the rich side. As the engine was warmed, I thought to myself that the engine sounded more quiet and gentle than I was expecting. That, until the throttle was opened and the full power unleashed, the ground trembling beneath our feet, more and more blue flames popping and spitting from the exhausts. Now it sounded more like a Merlin. Glorious…

With that bit of fun over, it was back into the hangar for a bit more of a prod. I also blagged a quick sit in the Airacobra. A rather bizarre aeroplane, with the strangest cockpit layout; like I’d imagine a bomber to look. And no hint of consideration towards ergonomics. Switches and dials were distributed randomly. No sign of the standard-T on this dash…

A good evening. Especially for a geek like me…

My next nav had been planned for a while now. And it feels like a lifetime since I last flew, with various things taking higher priority. But I was looking forward to today; although certain that I’d be having to learn an awful lot again.

John was in the Right Hand Seat. And with JR away on its annual, we had a new set of wings. Another characterful aeroplane; Golf-Whiskey Yankee… It’s only a matter of time till I pronounce that wrong. Whiskey Yankee is another Cherokee 140; quadrant throttle and so on. So not a large departure in the cockpit. Apart from the Coat Hanger style Yokes. She’s got a relatively new interior, which wouldn’t look out of place in a Transit Van. But it’s nice enough.

We briefed on the plan, JM gave my calcs a check over; all looked good. And we spoke briefly about diversions. We had to wait a bit for Mike to arrive, but once he did, it was hot to trot; the weather looking nice for a nav.

Start up, taxi and line up all went well enough, and we were soon climbing out off of 27… “Like slipping on an old pair of slippers” John announced. He was half right. It all felt OK, but there were already some small rough edges. We were through 1000′ on QNH before I remembered to get the flaps away.

We turned back over the airfield, and set course to the West for Wellesbourne. A leg that should be relatively familiar. At this stage, I was generally looking good, although I was pretty much always behind the aeroplane. I struggled to get trimmed. And I had to think long and hard about simple tasks such as radio and map reading. One point which had gone missing was that I was all set to make my inbound call to Wellesbourne; yet I’d forgotten that to do that I needed to change frequency first. I got a prompt from John which was handy, otherwise I’d have looked a bit of a wally on the Turweston frequency. I was always a step behind, and looking for reassurance that I’d done the right things. The slickness was missing a little.

Another point to note is that I need to navigate map to ground. I think I know the area well. But that is leading me to make mistakes in identifying things.

Anyhow, before long we were arriving overhead Wellesbourne; and although there’d been some rough bits in my cockpit workload, I had to be fair got us bang on overhead Wellesbourne and spot on in time with my DR. We were using 18, the Southerly runway. This would give me a stiff crosswind. My plan for the descent was good, but my execution  slightly slow again. I dithered in starting to descend and came a bit tight on the deadside turn, meaning I had to stick the nose down in order to get down to circuit height by the time I crossed the threshold. Then I made my way on the crosswind leg; my judgement of blending into the circuit was poor, and I cut it a little fine in terms of turning onto Downwind behind another aircraft already established. I’d certainly got closer than I should have been comfortable with. But I was now established OK, and working towards the approach. I was late with my downwind checks (still behind!) and then turned onto base then finals, a long way out from the threshold. I shot through the centreline a little on the turn to finals. And in truth was never really established properly to deal with the crosswind. Rather than having a nice slipping approach going on, I was oscillating gently one side to another across the centreline.

But considering that I haven’t flown for knocking on 2 months, the last part of the approach was acceptable. My flare was OK, and we touched down slightly crossed; but not a horrific one. Seems I can sort of remember how to land!

We taxiied up to the parking, and left Whiskey Yankee while we went for a cup of tea. My first land away!! We nipped up to the tower for me to pay the landing fee, then down to the busy cafe. I was already tired from just the first leg, so the cup of tea and a flapjack was much appreciated.

After a bit of a sit in the sun, it was time to crack on again. This being an airfield with an FIS, we had to request taxi permission, and got an option in terms of runways. I chose to take of on 18 (with the crosswind) as I felt that a crosswind T/O would not be a problem. As it transpired it wasn’t. John later complemented me on that, and seemed happy with it.

We worked our way out of the circuit, and set for the next leg to Sywell, where the plan was to see what the airfield status was (the tower is normally closed on a Monday). Depending on the response, we would either touch and go, or just turn in the overhead.

The second leg passed relatively comfortably. I still had the habit of navigating ground to map rather than map to ground, and this was leading me to mistakes in identifying things. Again too, I was behind the aeroplane in some places, taking too long to get frequency changes squared away and so on. Generally speaking my actual flying was OK. It was just my workload management that was poor.

We were soon over Sywell (again on time and on track), having tried to raise a response on their frequency. We got a response; without a callsign, from someone abruptly announcing that the tower was closed. We wouldn’t be stopping today. We did get a good look at the new runway though. It’s huge!

We got a nice look at Northampton on the way over. Another old stomping ground of mine…

The Express Lifts Tower. I like this landmark. Love the contemporary houses that have sprung up around it recently…

By this stage, I was exhausted. And it started to go completely to pot. As we got the other side of Northampton, I got seriously muddled with my nav. For some reason I was convinced I should see Roade. And I got fixated on this, rapidly losing awareness of my position and my workload management. I took a lot of prompting from John to point out Towcester to the Left, and as a result to get me to establish my actual position and start working towards an approach. We eventually broke off track for Silverstone, and planned an approach from overhead there. I was now seriously behind, and missed a few things, needing prompting on my rejoin call, and again on my downwind checks. The turn onto Base came up very quickly, and I was soon descending down the centreline in the woods. A small plus was that I remembered to get the carb heat away on the turn to finals for both the approach here and at Wellesbourne. And I got established onto short finals neatly enough.

I upset the final stage of my approach slightly as I felt we were getting slow, so I stuck the nose down and added a chunk of power to arrest the rate of descent. Ultimately the correct actions, but maybe applied a little enthusiastically. But the roundout and flare were judged OK again, and we touched down perfectly acceptably. Again this was not bad considering the time that has passed since my last landings.

As we taxied back, I was pretty beaten with myself; a combination of exhaustion, and general frustration. I’d just felt behind each step for far too long.

Writing this a couple of weeks after the flight, I’m now certain I wouldn’t have the same problems next time; as I’ve spent every morning driving to work running through the process flow of a cross country. I now feel more confident with which process follows what. And as a result I’m sure I could comfortably do the same flight again solo.

So all in, a flight with positives and negatives. Initially after it I felt a bit negative. But I think that has now settled and I am comfortable that it wasn’t a fair assessment of my overall level - instead just a rusty day and one where I probably needed some more mental preparation first…

More flying soon please!!…

The forecasts for today had looked promising. And they needed to be. With me having spent all of yesterday looking out of the window at glorious, gorgeous, perfect flying weather, knowing that I couldn’t do the solo nav because I had been beaten to getting a plane booked.

My alarm went off early, and I was at the window in seconds to see whether it looked good outside. At 06:30 and without my contact lenses in, I couldn’t tell. But fortunately, an hour or so later, sun rising, a cup of tea down, and this time with 20/20 vision, the sky outside looked very inviting. Today looked good.

As explained in previous posts, task for this week was for me to get away on a solo mini-cross country, or navigation exercise. Taking off, flying (and navigating) to a destination, then navigating to a second destination, before heading home.

The route would be the same as the one flown with Mike last week; Turweston -> Westcott Disused - > Roade (a small Town near Northampton) - > Turweston

So, it was looking good. I got down to the planning. First visiting the metoffice website, and the aviation members section. Form 214 (Spot Wind forecast), Form 215 (Low Level Weather forecast), METARS and TAFS (Aerodrome actual weather and forecasts) and an Airmet (Regional forecast). Then from these I added the wind to my chart (which already had the route mapped out), before then finishing off my VFR sheet with headings, ground speeds and leg times all calculated from the days spot winds.

Job done, it was time to leave.

I was the first person to the school. Chris was in the tower, but apart from that it was quiet. The schools’ other Cherokee 140 is finally back. She’s been away since last April, having a new wing fitted after some corrosion was found. I flew in it once a while back, but it’s a distant memory. I’d forgotten that it’s actually quite a tidy aeroplane. On the outside, she’s in good knick. On the inside, she’s like an aeroplane, but from the 1940’s! The cockpit fit is in very good condition, but quite dated! I’d forgotten about that. It won’t make any difference to how it flies, so I’d never turn my nose up at it. But it just made me chuckle to see the dated instruments and switches/breakers. I think ironically it might be a more recent fit than JR. It just looks quite art deco! I’d also forgotten it had the plunger style throttle (JR is quadrant). To be honest, I’m really looking forward to having a fly in Lima Tango at some stage… And it’s great to have another A/C available, especially at this stage in proceedings.

JR was nowhere to be seen. I was worried she was still over at Hinton having a 50hr. But the keys were on the board. I quizzed Chris. It turned out that they’d been kind enough to hide her away in the hanger to stop her from icing overnight. It was a good move - everything else on the airfield was covered with a 5mm layer of frost.

I checked over my nav planning a few more times, got myself prepped, and then relaxed. I was still slightly worried about the vis. As the frost was warming, it was lifting into a bit of a haze, which was particularly bad down to the South, into the sun. That might be enough to stop me going.

Fortunately, Mike turned up and put my mind at rest. Today was good for it.

So we dragged JR out of the hanger, and I got stuck into my walkaround. This was fun. Silly little details were contributing to this being a day of “being a proper pilot”. Like the fact that the aeroplane was sat on the apron just outside the hanger where we’d dragged it out. So as I climbed in to do my cockpit checks, I was surveying the flightline in front of me, otherwise in the peace and quiet and alone to enjoy the moments to myself. It was just nice to know that I was basically off the leash properly for this one. The aeroplane was completely mine from fresh out of the hanger to the moment I taxiied back after the nav.

Mike came down as I was part way through, for a quick brief. It was all good. Not much to note, apart from not to proceed if the vis looked like it was limiting. Also to be aware of other A/C over Westcott because it has a beacon. And the brief was to do a touch and go on return to Turweston. All set, I made myself comfortable in the cockpit on my own, pulled the door shut, and relaxed into the peace of the cabin.

I managed to get it started surprisingly easily. She didn’t fire first time, but a few squirts of the throttle fast-prime and she started quickly on the second time of asking. I went to do my RT, and the days first snag made itself apparent… The PTT button in JR is notoriously awkward. If not pressed perfectly straight, there is a degree of background noise. Normally I have no dramas. But today for some reason, I couldn’t quite get the knack. I struggled through it though, and managed to get a response from Chris on the second attempt. Then it was into the taxi and make my way down to the end of 27 for the power checks.

There was no-one else around, so I had the airfield all to myself as I trundled down the runway. Me and JR, about to go navigating. Power checks no dramas, pre-T/O checks, turn back to the runway entry and call ready for departure. Nothing known to affect, so away I went. Onto the centreline, power in; RPM full, T’s and P’s, airspeed rising and rotate…

In the bitterly cold air and with only me on board and the tanks just on tabs, the aeroplane went up like an absolute rocket ship. We were through 800′QNH within seconds. And at about 1100′ by the time we got to the runway intersection to start the noise abatement turn. He he. Good fun. So I turned into the circuit and continued the climb. We got to my target cruising altitude ridiculously quickly, and as a result I turned out of the Downwind leg quite early to head back over the field, making my radio call to announce my movements. As a reminder to myself, somewhere in here I forgot my FFART checks. Ultimately the only thing this meant I missed was the fuel pump (I’d done flaps, transponder and altimeter setting/radio setting and RT. But I wouldn’t spot the fuel pump until I’d got established on heading and done a FREDA.

So; over the airfield, Turn onto heading, Time (Record) and Talk - let everyone know I’m departing to the South and will contact for rejoin. The nav had begun. The vis was actually pretty poor in an angle ahead and down. Looking into the sky for other A/C was OK, and looking down close to the A/C was good. But at a shallow angle, it was difficult to pick out features. But I could see the Finmere lakes, and that was enough to make the decision to press on. On a better day I should have been able to see Stokenchurch microwave mast. But no way today…

I checked my DI to my compass, did a quick gross error check (looking for obvious ground features to check I wasn’t off in a completely ridiculous direction), then a FREDA, and settled into it.

This was all good fun! Having done the nav with Mike earlier, I was pretty confident with what I should see on the ground, so it was all no dramas really. I spotted Finmere, passed just over the top and to one side as expected. Then the lakes, and finally the intersection in the active and disused railway lines as expected. All looking good. And I was at my half way point bang on time. One thing to note at this stage was that I’d set my course from directly over Turweston. I’d forgotten what Mike had taught me about setting course to one side, to make the visibility of ground features easier.

Before long, I picked Westcott out in the haze. All looking good. And again, my time was going to be bang on.

Overhead Westcott, a neat turn, and a chance to look at what Westcott actually looked like! The last couple of times I’ve done this, I’ve not really looked at the feature too hard as I’ve been busy concentrating on flying. But this time I was able to juggle the two. And there were still no other A/C about. I’d heard on the Turweston frequency that a Cirrus was departing to the South, so that was my only other company for now.

Turn completed, and on with the next leg to Roade. TT, check DI, Gross Error Checks, then FREDA. Then concentrate on the heading. I spotted the Cirrus off to the Left, at a similar altitude but around 1/2 mile off. He whistled past in the opposite direction. With the vis being so much better to the North, I had an absolute age on this leg. Immediately having turned from Westcott, I picked out Buckingham, then MK, then even Northampton. So the Nav for this leg was going to be easy-peasy. I relaxed into the groove.

I’d heard another aeroplane on frequency which again would be nearby, and shortly I spotted it passing again off to my Left. No dramas with traffic so far. At my half way point, again all was normal and good, and it wasn’t long before I spotted the railway line out of MK, leading right up to my destination. I could see Roade from about 10 miles away. Easy!

Another FREDA, still keeping tight on heading and altitude. And enjoy the ride. I had a few moments on this leg to look at the ground below; the beautiful patchwork of green with the odd dusting of frost. And I had a chance to appreciate it all. The sun behind was highlighting the backs of the propeller blades and giving me a glinting disc ahead and over the combing, accompanied by the strong purr of the propwash past the windscreen as the blades slice through the air. Every now and then the detail and clarity of the experience seems to appear in high-def… This was another of those tiny but deep moments.

Again it was clear I was bang on target and time. And Roade came up almost too quickly. I wanted to have more time to relax and enjoy the leg, but unfortunately it was already time to start heading for home. I could have happily done the loop twice. Or headed off further afield.

So I turned for my final leg and a return home. Again the vis was that good that I picked out Silverstone from distance, and Towcester off to my Right. I started a cruise descent, and made my call for rejoin. I struggled again with the PTT, having to press it several times before it came in without background noise. This was irritating, and started to put me on the back foot. I was all set for crisp and clear comms, and instead was having to have two or three goes at getting my message across. Mike was on the radio at the other end, and told me to push the button straight. I was trying!! I called for rejoin, and airfield information, and Mike gave me the QNH. I could have asked for the QFE, but I know it is QNH minus 15. That and struggling with the PTT as I announced over Silverstone, had slowed me down a bit in my descent plan. And it took me a few seconds to get my mind straight to calc the QFE. The result of all of this was that I forgot my “Downwind” or Pre-Landing (since we weren’t Downwind) checks. I was going to join onto long finals.

As I turned onto long finals, the approach was looking good, and I remembered my Pre-Landing checks and rushed to get them settled away, which I did. But I don’t want to make that mistake of putting myself under pressure again. Also, I was listening to some other A/C in the circuit too and calling Final myself, and all of this meant I forgot to put the carb heat away. Bad error and one not to miss again please… Also to note here, is that I’d not called “Touch and Go”. Small error, but it would have been nice to let everyone know exactly what I was doing. In general, over the last bits of the rejoin, I got a bit scrappy and need to up my work rate and get my head a bit tidier on the details of the rejoin…

Onto short finals, and it all looked great. I used to get nervous at this point, but now it’s great fun. I could do landings all day - the fun of trying to coordinate everything - keeping the centreline with a combination of roll, and rudder, keeping the airspeed with pitch and keeping the rate of descent with power. A constant juggling act where tiny momentary tickles of each are required to keep it all looking neat and to keep any wind effects in check.

Mike had passed the wind information and I’d registered the direction, but not really the strength. But I wasn’t feeling it too much as I flared. I touched down very very gently. And felt a bit of sideways movement. This was strange, and unsettled me a little. It felt like I was needing more rudder on the ground run than I expected. I let it roll for a bit, then got the power back in and rotated for the touch and go. At this stage I announced that I was doing a touch and go (realising that I’d not called earlier). I think Mike may have misunderstood what I meant, and he came over the radio to say yes I could do another if I wanted. Oh well, I wasn’t going to complain at getting another go.

In the first hundred feet after rotating, I felt that the rate of climb was less than I would expect and the power felt and was indicating low, and I spotted that the carb heat was still on. I quickly chucked that away and the performance picked up as expected. But I need to not miss that one again.

Back into the circuit, and all looking good again. A few more A/C had come on frequency, and as I turned Base, I could see one behind over my shoulder and quite close in. I wasn’t sure how he was going to manage the separation to me, as he was travelling fast. Anyway, not my problem, I just needed to remember he was there.

Again, established on Final and all looking good. Set to make this one neat too. Mike passed me the wind, and again I registered only the direction; 190deg, so a crosswind from the Left.

I flared neatly, and again touched down very gently. And again I felt the sideways movement. This unsettled me again and I rolled for a hundred meters or so and for a few seconds trying to work out what I was feeling. I guess I was trying to decide whether I thought the plane was broke! The problem with this though, was that I realised I was running out of runway. I decided that I hadn’t been decisive enough and hadn’t got the power in soon enough, and that I’d missed my chance for turning this into a touch and go. So I made the decision to make this a full stop. I thumbed the radio and announced this to Chris, conscious that the guy behind me had no doubt set up his approach thinking I’d be getting airborne again. So I kept my taxi expeditious.

Still the aeroplane felt sideways. This was mixing up my head a bit, and I was genuinely concerned that I’d managed to bend something. Also, I’ve seen JR suffer from sticky oleos sometimes, and this possibility was crossing my mind given that it was very cold and the oil would no doubt have been viscous.

So as I taxiied back, I was expecting to get out of the aeroplane to find something wrong. As I stopped at the hold to do my After Landing checks, the guy that had been on Final behind me taxiied past. Luckily he’d got down OK even though I’d changed my mind on the touch and go.

I taxiied back and parked up. Happy with the nav, but confused by my scrappy rejoin and the strange touch and goes.

I got out quickly and checked the undercarriage over. Nothing. No problems at all. Mike came out, and I explained to him what I’d felt and why I’d aborted the touch and go. He smiled and pointed to the wind sock. For crying out loud. It was rigid across the runway. Wind 190deg at 10kts. He’d told me that on the radio when I was on finals. It had picked up since I’d been away. That was why the aeroplane had felt sideways all the way down the runway. Idiot. I was kicking myself. Again my flying had been good, but I’d let my brain get a bit mashed at the end and had acted in a slightly flustered fashion. I was gutted. Oh well.

Tom had a laugh when I explained to him. And he made the point that I’d actually done the right thing in understanding it and learning something from it. So I guess it was all good. Funny really. Ironically, I think the reason it unsettled me so much was that the landings had been very very gentle, so I’d had time when the load on the wheels was light, and this is when I felt the crosswind the most. I’d already said in a past post that I felt a more firm contact was better in a crosswind. This was another indication of that!

Another lesson learnt. Listen to the wind info and take in what it is saying!!

Anyway, Nav done, another step closer, a bit more confidence and a lot of fun. And I’ve now got some real solo experience in the logbook. Bring on the big ones now, bring them on!

This is why the landings felt funny…

Oh well… Still smiling…

Today started much the same way as the other day…

Looking out of the window at home as it approached time to leave for the flying school, it looked touch and go. There was plenty of low cloud and scud around, and a light wind. I didn’t hold out much hope.

I arrived at Turweston with a fairly realistic view on what the day might hold. Again Mike backed this up once I got to the school. It wasn’t looking good. Mike suggested that I could go home if I had better things to do; but I decided to stick around. I desparately want to get my rate of progress up again now - and that means taking every opportunity possible. It would also mean some patience in waiting for those opportunities.

So I used the time to wander around the airfield a bit, peering into cockpits and so on. I also sat and did some more planning practice. As well as chatting a bit with Mike and Chris. And I enjoyed doing a relaxed walkaround of JR; being (hopefully) the first flight of the day, I took the time to gently wipe the condensation off of the screen inside and out, and thoroughly check the internals and externals… To be honest though, most of my time waiting was spent wandering from window to window, looking out at the panorama across the airfield and trying to see a glimmer of hope through the grey.

The wind was lighter today - not a problem. The main problem instead was that to the South (where we’d first be heading), the sky was more grey then elsewhere. There were brighter patches, just exactly where we didn’t need them.

Whilst chatting to Mike, he’d mentioned that it probably wouldn’t be any good for doing a nav today; and that if I was lucky we might get to do some circuits. In which case I needed to prove my consistency. Still though, I was pleased when he came into the study room to find me checking and re-checking my plan for the nav, as it hopefully gave some indication of what I was chomping at the bit to get into. I’ve mentioned before; but this Nav to Westcott and Roade is a hurdle at the moment. Once its out of the way, JM and I can get back to bashing the navs in the run up to the QXC. But we need to get the mini-navs out of the way first. So, the aim for the next 2 weeks I’m on shift is to get the dual then solo mini-nav wrapped up.

I went back to the study again, and had my head down for 45mins or so. I’d given myself a cut-off of 12:00pm. That was pretty much my time limit for going flying, as I wouldn’t make it to work on time otherwise. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I looked up and out again at 11:55. I could see blue. Lots of blue. There were still some fluffy unstable cold cumulus about, but the scud had all but gone, and it actually looked flyable.

Today I had determination about me. I wanted to progress. So I wandered through to the front room with a loaded question… “What do you think Mike? Look at all that blue… Fancy the nav?”. It was a long shot.

I got an unexpected reply. “OK, you go and get ready, I’ll be down in five minutes and we’ll go and have a look”.

Awesome.

I was confident for this. I think it was determination more than anything. I was conscious that I hadn’t flown for a long time, and hence was likely to slip up in some places, but the determination was manifesting itself in a sort of “up for doing the job well” fashion.

Mike hopped in, I got stuck into the checklist, and it all came back. Beautifully. As I ticked off each item in the pre-start checklist, the confidence was trickling in. As I taxiied to the hold, the confidence was flowing in. During power checks it was pumping through. And by the time I was rotating and setting the nose to the left to counter the gentle crosswind, the confidence was absolutely surging through me. There was one thing in my mind… “D’you know what? I can actually remember how to do all of this; and I’m going to fly pretty well today”.

I went straight into exhibition mode. Talking through each step of my thought processes and mentioning out loud anything that popped into my mind that I decided to action. “I’m going to steer a little left on the climb today to counter the drift”. “FFART Checks… Fuel Pump, Flaps, Altimeter…”. I’d already launched into the mentality for the Nav. And so far Mike hadn’t suggested he wasn’t happy for us to continue.

On the climb we fortunately popped up before a localised crop of cloud, and turned to head back towards the (now brighter!) South. Again, it was exhibition mode for the Nav… “Turn, Time, Talk…”. “Gross error checks - Silverstone Left, Lakes at Finmere ahead, Croughton Right”. “Now a FREDA…”

Following from my mistake of “over-navigating” last time, this time I worked much harder on my heading and altitude. It was a smooth day too - so the workload in the cockpit was at a nice level. I had it all in hand.

At the half way point, I made a small heading correction due to drift. Before long, Westcott was in sight, and looking like it would be below us bang on time. This was looking great. It became apparent that we had caught a perfect gap in the weather. Just beyond Wescott was a wall of slowly moving cloud. We’d soon be turned around and flying away from it. But a cheeky little Cumulus had broken away from the herd and was floating pretty much just where I wanted to identifying Wescott and then turning over it. So I had to thread my way left of it and climb, just breezing past its steep side…

The last time I was this close to clouds was in a Chipmunk as a 16 year old Air Cadet. I’d forgotten the sense of scale and perspective that you get when level with them. It was beautiful. We turned at a safe distance to stay in VMC, re-identified Westcott, and set off for the second leg. Again; TTT, Gross Checks, FREDA. Oh, and a check of the HI vs the Compass. Then just concentrate on the heading and altitude. I spotted and identified Little Horwood out to the right…

Buckingham was brightly lit by the Southern sun, and was a welcome confidence boost. I could see MK as well, and it was clear that we were bang on track, about to split at the correct ratio between the two. I spotted and pointed out a couple of aircraft, again pleased that this part of my workload hadn’t gone missing.

Abeam Buckingham, I identified the railway line heading towards the second waypoint of Roade; another little confidence boost. It was all looking good. As we approached Roade, it became clear that we’d have another cloud issue. This time we were above a small crop of Cumulus, that was partially obscuring my target town. I could see plenty else below, just not the center of the town! The cloud had lowered and thickened over the Northern part of the nav, and this made for a contrast against the relative ease of the first leg.

So this time we had to wait till we were beyond the cloud and could see backwards. I knew we’d gone past our destination, as the flying times had so far been tying up perfectly. As I looked back to identify the town, I could tell that we’d overflown it to the second.

So we made the final turn, and headed back for home. On the final leg, the cloud cover was slightly increased, and clearly just within the limit for the type of nav we were doing. So I was grateful that we’d somehow beaten the odds and snuck into the gap. We had to search for a clear hole to pop through another crop of cloud, starting our descent to Turweston. Now it was time to think about a landing.

I’d passed the nav off fine, but was still conscious that the bigger challenge was to prove to Mike that I could get back on the ground safely. We were going to join straight in from Silverstone. This confused me a little at first, as I think I was trying to join half onto Base and half onto Finals. But it somehow turned into a rejoin anyway. The cloud had definitely made this step the more difficult. As I started to configure, I forgot the carb heat. My first proper mistake I think.

Properly established on Base, and it was all looking good. I had time. That lovely feeling of just relaxing on the early stages of the approach and teasing the power to keep the airfield at the right position in the screen. It was still looking good as I turned onto short finals and set the nose to one side to counter the gentle crosswind.

As I got into the roundout and flare, I could feel how much I was trying. I’m sure my eyes must have been as big as dinner plates and getting bigger as the ground got closer and I worked to make this one gentle. One challenge. Make it neat. I was still working as the ground effect started to become felt. I’d caught the cushion beautifully. And was just teasing the float, consciously telling myself to ensure that the control column was coming further back towards my tummy. More float, more control, more float, more control…

I probably wasn’t breathing as the mainwheels gently kissed the tarmac. It was a peach. I had a split second of thinking “Wow”… … What a beautiful feeling. 5 weeks of not flying, in the spotlight, and I had absolutely nailed that one. For once Mike had seen my best. The surge of confidence was now a torrent. I’d proven my point.

I raised the flaps one stage, fed the power in, and went for the touch and go as instructed. Mike wanted to see another to check it wasn’t a fluke. The feeling of confidence from the touch down rolled into the rotate, and I climbed neatly and crisply, taking a good care to head towards the gap in the hillside (Mike’s marker for the noise abatement “crank”). Passing the A43, I was still reflecting on the first landing. A mixture of elation, relief and confidence.

The rest of the circuit was fine, not much to report. Apart from forgetting the downwind call. And ending up a little high in the early stage of finals because I’d left a bit too much power in after an earlier correction of my approach. Lined up on short finals, I was determined to show Mike; and me - that I had it in me to do another landing like the last.

Sure enough I did. Once again in the later stages of the flare, I had that wonderful balancing act completely at hand. The game where too much back pressure means the flare turns into a lift, and too little back pressure ends up in a bump. The game where the only aim is to keep the nose at exactly the right position relative to the horizon and the tarmac coming up around your ears at a gentle rate of inches.

Again, the mainwheels kissed. Job. Done.

As we taxiied back, I knew I’d nailed it. Mike was happy. If the weather is good in the next two weeks, I’ll be off to do the same thing solo.

But today, I had had another of those vivid, ever memorable moments that this flying thing has gifted me. Writing this a few days after the event, I can say that every now and then I think about the feeling of that beautiful few seconds in the flare for the first landing. And it sends an endorphin tingle up my spine…

It’s a few seconds lit by the bright winter sun reflecting off the hay fields to the South, bouncing through the windscreen and into my lap… A peaceful few seconds in the last few feet where the throttle is closed, the engines purr dulled to a rumbling whisper of calm. And a few moments where the playful tension of the air on the control surfaces is felt back through the control column as a confident and infinitely controllable support for the aeroplanes descent. With patience, comes the the light trundle of the wheels as the wings gently cushion the weight onto the oleos…

That moment is my drug.

I’m a pilot again..!

I’m sure it’s a familiar story for pilots around the country this time of year; but unfortunately I’m sure each would agree that simply knowing it’s a common story is not enough to take the pain of frustration away.

It’s been 5 weeks since I was last airborne. A combination of poor weather, poor planning on my part, lack of a/c availability and mainly putting other stuff first had meant that I’d been fairly rooted to the ground. So having a lesson booked today gave me a glimmer of hope of getting back into the rythm.

Progress in terms of the ultimate goal seems to have slowed somewhat over the last couple of months too. My flying hasn’t been brilliant the last few times, and with having completed all of the ground exams, I’m obviously not living and breathing the study in the way that I was. But all of this combined is making me hungry.

So waking early in the morning to a glorious clear sky, albeit with a bit of a wind, gave me the sweet possibility that the ball would be rolling again today.

I got the weather, sat and planned the nav, and started to get into the mood. Then I made the mistake of looking out of the window. The wind had got up, the sky had started to become cloudy, and conditions were definitely deteriorating. I checked the airfields new online live weather feed http://www.turwestonflight.com/aviation/weatherstationtest/index.htm. It confirmed my fears. So as I got into the car, the light of hope was rapidly fading.

As I got closer to the airfield, the light went out completely. The weather just got worse and worse. It was clear today would be another day of frustration.

Sure enough, Mike confirmed my fears within seconds of me arriving. Not today sir. Bugger.

So I did my usual trick of hanging around the school in the hope that some sort of miracle would be blessed unto me with a real and metaphorical beam of sunlight splitting through the clouds… I tried to ignore the fact that the clouds were moving at 30kts; so any such glint of possibility would actually just be another indication that the weather was shocking.

The T67 Firefly was parked up outside the school, without the control locks in place. So the control surfaces were flicking gracefully in the wind, like a bird stretching its feathers. I wasn’t the only one that wanted to be flying.

I sat down in the study room with the heater on and started looking at some diversions. In the distance I heard a growl that I thought I recognised. I told myself not to be such an idiot - there’s no way the noise I could hear was what I thought it was; surely there was just a tractor passing on the farmland outside or something? Reluctantly I dragged myself to the window to check that I really was being stupid.

I wasn’t. In the distance, Peter Teichmann was trundling through the grey in his Spitfire MkXI, en route to Wellesbourne. Tantalising and teasing those of us who were staying firmly put today. Another little kick in the shins.

I decided to give up. It wasn’t going to happen today. On my way out I got chatting to Chris and another guy (Mike I think? Need to check). Mike (check) is a relatively newly qualified pilot; an older guy, who commits Tuesdays to coming to the airfield no matter what. We started chatting about what we’d learnt from the flying course. I explained how my eyes and mind had been opened up to so much learning that I wouldn’t have touched on otherwise. Recently I’ve started to get enthusiastic about ground breaking moments in aviation and space achievement. In fact, I’d say inspired. Chris dashed into the control tower and came back clutching a copy of Chuck Yeagers autobiography. The conversation snowballed from there, touching on pioneering aviators and the heady days of air racing. A little reminder that it’s not all bad weather and slow progress. There’s a worth to all of this. I was reminded of my time as a kid watching Reaching for the Skies on TV… I’m doing this to be a pilot. When I finally did leave to head off, I’d say I left with a renewed sense of purpose.

Making my way across the apron, I stopped to inspect the stunning Cessna 310F that was parked up at Akki’s… A gorgeous aeroplane.

A look at the rego said it all…     

                                                                      I can see myself in one of these one day. I really can...