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A little better than flying circuits

Wednesday had been beset with cross winds and weak thermals, so Stephen and I were reduced to inflicting pain from the back seat – AKA Annual Checks. With Friday morning came a welcome message – ‘wanna fly?’ So at the the bum end of a weak thermalling Friday we convened at Old Sarum Airfield. The weak cumulus was now spreading out, obligingly obscuring the low autumn sun. There was a slight haze, but visibility was better than 20 miles. Runway 24, grass 800 metres, wind light westerly. PERFECT!

Checks complete, engine purrs; then roars as we use almost the complete length of the runway getting airborne. Full power climb to safety height then a gentle left turn over Salisbury with the Cathedral below to starboard. Throttle back for the neighbours then head for Alderbury VRP. Check instruments, match giro to magnetic and head 241 degrees towards Weymouth. “Bournemouth …. PA28 from Old Sarum routing Blandford-Weymouth-Bridport-Gillingham returning Old Sarum”.

Climbing steadily to 3300ft on local QNH we level off, set cruise power and trim for level flight. The air is smooth as a millpond; just keep a good lookout, cross-reference giro to magnetic now and then and watch the gauges. The airplane is virtually flying itself so my trusting captain – now we are safely on our way – offers “want to fly ?” Passing Blandford dead on time we see the coastline at Weymouth with Portland Bill beyond, all profiled against a pewter seascape. Course corrections are hardly necessary, wind is light and destination clearly in sight.

After reporting overhead Weymouth my curiosity to view Maiden Castle drags us off course to the north. We eventually spot it west of Dorchester, but the diffused sunlight renders it disappointingly featureless. In contrast, to port, running parallel to Lyme Bay, the vista is like a Monet seascape with a swathe of pale sun softly reflecting off the untrammelled ocean. At Bridport we turn north east over the site of the old BBC masts at Rampisham Down (according to the map legend still potentially hot enough to fry instruments and other delicate parts up to 2500 ft – strange). Then past the figure of the Cern Giant to Starboard. Fields to the south look like they were scattered out of a box labelled ‘1000 places not to land’, while to the north west is spread out the serene expanse of the Somerset Levels.

At Gillingham we follow the heading of the railway back to Salisbury. The airfield manager had thoughtfully lit the runway, which was helpful with the diffuse sunlight full in our faces.

Thence home for tea. A delightful diversion and thanks to Adrian for inviting me along and reminding me how to do some proper navigation.

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Wednesday 23rd – our part in the comps.

Lasham EGC 2017 landout

A strange day indeed, when struggling to gain height from 800 ft over Ringo’s farm while swiftly drifting downwind, one’s attention is suddenly distracted by multiple greens and flashing reds as a fleet of water bombers suddenly appears at a similar height. But by now Dennis and I had taken the K13 as far downwind as was prudent, so we left them to get on with it.

Meanwhile the mundane business of flying circuits under a leaden sky continued at a steady pace while the unrelenting banter rambled on. With the length of flights by no means helped by the solid bulk of Tony’s ‘brownies’, airborne time seldom exceeded double figures. However, much was gained by our fledgling pilots at Stephen’s sage hands practising launches and landings in a tricky cross wind.

What would have been otherwise mundane sort of day was intermittently punctuated by passing fleets of ever optimistic comp gliders, culminating in a group ‘land in’ at the scrag end of the day. It is pleasing to note that the visitors showed exceptional courtesy by landing sensibly close to the upwind fence, thereby causing very little interruption to a day that yielded over 30 launches.

Lasham EGC 2017 landout

Visitors patiently waiting recovery in the twilight.

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Hangar left at the top of the airfield…

…and you may be truly amazed.

Monday 17th saw Rowland, Martin S, Alan S and Paul B removing 50 years of worn out tarmac off the hangar floor – a heroic task (but anything to save the club money).

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On Tuesday the mechanisation arrived..

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..and they set about levelling the notorious ‘hump’.

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Then arrived the asphalt

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and set they about laying the black stuff.

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Roll it flat..

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and Robert is your Mothers brother.

Tremendous thanks, particularly to those aforementioned and everyone else who has cleared the hangar, taken down curtains and put them up again, shunted aircraft around and generally put up with my manic requests for urgent help at two minutes notice.

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The morning after the night before

There was a time not so long ago when someone going solo was a rare event and I think it must be virtually unknown for three to have happened in one day on the same airfield and with the same instructor. Add to this a bunch of Silver and Bronze achievements and you have something truly phenomenal. (I hope someone will write it up in S&G).

So, in spite of a promising sky the next day had about it the ambience of Glastonbury the morning after the final set (who is Ed Sheeran anyway?).

Hangover

That was a shame, as the sky looked good for a fast 300k. The ever present RD was duty dog and the prospect of no less than two one-day courses to deliver had necessitated the presence of ever obliging Stephen O to assist. However the munificent Ken P volunteered to shoulder the burden, leaving Stephen unexpectedly left free to fly EEF which had been conveniently left rigged overnight. So having completed the instructor shuffle, Stephen finally got launched at around midday, hastily followed by Phil M and Chris B both of whom sped off in the direction of Wells.

Stephen, having worn out all the 3kt thermals, and with a wedding to organise, graciously returned EEF an hour and a half later for me to eke out what was left. Anything worth heading for now being in Fairford’s temporary class D airspace, I was left to hang on to the scraggy bits around the edge.

But then I guess anything must be better than organising a wedding.

And thanks again to long suffering Peter E who spent the day closeted in the vehicle container welding the tow bar back onto the Pajero.