The year closes just as Threshers the wine shop closes in Kelso, the last thing to be sold was Israeli dessert wine – so it was the online Wine Society for Christmas Claret and Chablis, together with Alnwick Ales for the Festive Kegs of Yule Fuel and Secret Kingdom. The alcohol supplements included 72% absinthe and some Somerset Cider Brandy which was matured in barrels, surrounded by bibles written in Zulu, from MSC Napoli a plundered shipwreck on the Dorset coast. Hic.

New Audi TT arrives and I can now get Saga insurance which works out remarkably cheap (no meerkat fees to pay I guess). I was awarded a ‘Flying Pig’ at the Microlight Christmas Party – for what I assume is an honour to be compared to Miyazaki Porco Rosso (the crimson pig flying ace) – or for making a complete pigs ear of my circuit at Manchester airport.

I celebrated the winter solstice with a large pan of Wassail and a naked run in the snow around the rowan trees in the blue moonlight (second full moon in the month is a blue moon).

Christmas was shaping up to be a jolly affair – and then the snow fell. It started with the BBC giving a global warming demonstration as the snow fell heavily in the window behind the presenter and ended with a snow blanket coverage on telly with reporters ‘braving’ the snow and what looked like setup slides of cars. To us it meant running very low on hay, frozen water which meant relays of water buckets for Flora trudging through deepening snow. It also meant towing Ali up the Lempitlaw hill as he got stuck and arming ourselves with snow shovels – although David came up trumps with his motorised bucket machine clearing our drive in a couple of minutes – although we were blocking the road at the time as the snow was so high on either side there was nowhere to pull off to! Stephanie’s horse was stuck up the Yetholm valley so we had a good trip out to feed it in a foggy blizzard. I had wanted to visit Antarctica but it had decided to come to see me instead this year – temperatures plummeted to minus 20 and our heating system was put to the test. We froze. Time to look at CHP as a backup and a nice local electricity generator.

A traditional Christmas Day meal with Absinthe Jelly, charades games ending up with the men asleep snoring as the women played Guitar Hero. I gave Kim a pair of wellies which were suddenly a lot more appreciated as the snow kept falling into the New Year. Stephanie bought Kim some gaiters from the guy I sailed with on my Day Skipper course and he enclosed a survival toaster as a gift for me which confused Stephanie somewhat!

Bought Lost Valley of the DInosaurs off ebay as my own version had been depleted of lava, dinosaurs and the swamp monster – great fun – and also bought the old Sherlock Holmes collection in preparation for the new movie – they are wonderful old films.

A snow meerkat graced our front garden and was transformed by melting in the winter sun and more snow falls into an unrecognisable piece of contemporary art. Drinking in a room full of people who believe that horses speak to people was a surreal experience – horse whisperers sound as exploitative as psychics – between that and the homeopathic treatments on sale at the local horse store (with a ‘they really work’ label) one can see 2010 as irrational as every other year. Still scientists now say there is no G Spot so that is one less thing to look for this year.

The snow was still falling into the New Year and was showing no signs of going away. The police advised driving in the Borders as a ‘Life or Death’ situation only – we had run out of beer we figured this was Life or Death so sent Stuart down to Kelso. Our office phones went down (ISDN groan) and BT couldn’t make it to the exchange so we had our calls diverted to Stuart’s mobile – except they accidentally diverted the council gritting service so we ended up calls from lorry drivers wanting to know where we wanted the grit – a lesser person would have auctioned them off to the councils desperate for grit…

Pages: 1 2

Sea Kayak strapped to top of car and everything necessary inside and setting off in the dark Saturday morning, missing Gutbusters but ready for a paddle in the Forth. A few snow flakes were worryingly falling the night before now replaced with an icy wind. This really didn’t sounds a good idea so I did it.

We all assembled at North Berwick in the wrong car park which necessitated a longer portage of the kayaks down to the edge of the sea. This is the North Sea meets River Forth and both are very chilly. Spectators are wrapped up warm as we clamber into our kayaks in bright dry suit, stuck spraydecks on and hit the surf and in my case the first rock that I could. With my paddle the wrong way round I battled through the surf and out into the swell sitting deploying rudder, which got stuck but fortunately a lady in shining dry suit flipped it for me and got my paddle the right way round. Ok Bass Rock that way – it was a clear navigational point sticking out of the Forth. Around the clashing rocks with surf everywhere tempted one of the braver ladies and she was paddling like furious through it – I was just trying to keep upright in the swell as huge waves crashed over my bow. Then all was calmish and we floated over the waves – it was like cycling over and down small hills as you disappear into the trough looking up at the next one with all the other paddlers disappearing into their own troughs. Great fun.

My folding Feathercraft K1 kayak flexes in the waves and it is a strange sensation and other paddlers would paddle up and ask questions about it. The weather wasn’t as cold as expected and constant paddling kept us warm anyway and we reached the Bass Rock where there is a cave through it – however seals were in pup jut now so it wouldn’t make sense to go breaking up seal families – one popped up in between us and kept a weather eye out on us. The rock was free of gannets at this time of year and you could make out its rocky features – normally covered with birds. it is apparently illegal to step to it so we didn’t. It is named after the Latin name for the gannet (Sula Bassanus) – there are also the island of Sula with a similar gannet colony and the tourist boat tot he Bass Rock is called Sula.

One of the girls was moaning for lunch and Ollie gave her a bounty bar so she would happily make Seacliff (omitting to mention they were out of date). On the way to seacliff the waves were huge and at one point I could look up and see a complete row of 6 other paddlers to my right and above me! I hit the seacliff surf forgetting how to do surf kayaking and was flipped over and walked ashore to be reunited with my kayak. My paddle still in hand as waves would hit me from behind. Lunch was a case of finding a level piece of seaweed and with my wet shoes I managed to do a passable imitation of a fitting lunatic – but still managed to keep my roll in hand as I flumped down onto a seaweed covered rock.

Ollie told us tales of Robson Green and their time when he swam to Holy Island in swimming shorts (on TV soon) where Robson goes into shock and it took 40 minutes to get him back to recognising things. This was after being rescued by the lifeboat in the Tyne – wait till he tries the Scottish rivers…
Brian who hails from Coldstream, down the river from me, and is a painter of seascapes and landscapes, passed around his home made Fruit Leather – a sort of Beef Jerky made with rosehips and honey – delicious to chew on.

Ollie and Brian went in to see if Seacliff harbour was possible – but the waves were high and the entrance was one large foamy surface so it was decided to press on. It was going to be a night trip to Fidra (previously noted on Ollies calendar as Flada with the phrase challenging kayak – which would be since Flada is on the West Coat) and a long trek so we put back in to North Berwick in sunset – it was glorious paddling into the beach with the Berwick Law crowned with sunlight and the water an orange colour. The surf this time didn’t capsize me and I did well to get into the beach upright – apart from running Ollie over – it was kind of him to provide my buffer zone as I careered into the beach.

Pages: 1 2

It seemed a straight forward plan – visit GoApe in the Lake District to go swinging through the trees. Even better Kim had procured a free Gorilla with every purchase (we weren’t too sure where we were going to keep it though) as long as we visited before the end of November (Gorillas must hibernate after that I guess).

Then the Lake District decided to burst its banks, with 19 bridges down or threatening to collapse GoApe called off as its access roads were now more Venetian than tropical jungle tracks. A week of drying out – the Lake District and not me – and we were assembling at the GoApe hut constructed from sustainable timber to see if a standard harness will fit Mike’s groin – I was proud when my heaving pouch was proving troublesome and he had to get the ‘porn star’ harness with bikini top to make sure I didn’t do the zip line upside down.

With Stuart and Steph keen as mustard to see me fall off with a side bet on Kim – we went through the intensive training checks that we had listened to the safety briefing (don’t fall off seemed to be the gist of it). Ali was spending his time at home babysitting the leaking stove which needed emptied every few hours – it would be typical bad luck to get flooded on the top of a 600 foot hill. So to the start – hook on and clamber up the rope ladder, unhook blue and hook onto the roller, unhook the red and and hook onto the cable and over the roller and edge gently along the tightrope to the zip line start. More hooking and unhooking and weeee down the zip line to land surprisingly on my feet in the bark – this was the first and last time such an elegant landing would be achieved.

Tests done we were now abandoned to our fate (although I suspect we were being closely monitored for insurance reasons). Enter the secret code then hook on and up the longer rope ladder this time. Stuart up, followed quickly by Steph. Followed by me – not so fast and now oscillating on a rope ladder in 3 dimensions whilst Kim is corpsing and giggling below. Quick fart to restore balance and one leg at a time – the other one being caught up in the safety line and I made the top thinking this was a particularly bad idea as that was the first step of a long scary journey through another 4 obstacle courses up in the trees.

The tarzan swing is a particular joy as you end up in a net and have to scrabble up and across the eternal moving ropes to reach a platform. I almost gave up with that one – it was only ridicule that kept me going.

The obstacles got more and more taxing – I passed on the monkey rings one where a girl had already got stuck half way across and went across the greased log instead – half way over the log I was beginning to regret that decision. My porn star harness had also slipped a little which meant hooking and unhooking from the cable relied on me standing on tip toes or balancing on a tight rope to unhook myself which struck me as more dangerous than not being hooked on at all.

Screams came from the trees beyond and longer and higher zip lines revealed themselves. I set off in a stright line which quickly turned into a balletic spiral and ended with me facing back to a waving Kim as I hit the wet and insect friendly bark with my bottom.

We made it all through in a standard pattern of me getting stuck, reverse zip landings and a bosuns chair that was going to see a rescue required if I didn’t have that last fart to propel me to the platform on the tree. Certificates signed pint sunk and it was off to Keswick to catch a glimpse of the stars Prince Chuck turning the lights on whilst Julia Bradbury turns the middle aged men on – neither of which we actually saw.

Sore arms and legs was the result and it was fun. Reading their Health and Safety reports after going is much better than before swinging. Adventure Fun with safety – good combination.

This month’s guest blogger is Kim – she had already written an account and it seemed churlish to redo it – it is, however, edited to remove any embarrassing account involving Mike naturally (or even supernaturally)
Day 1: 9/9/09: East Fortune to Sherburn in Elmet 2hr 40mins

Early start at the airfield – unlocked the gate and entered with Richard close behind us. Packed and fuelled up, and ready for off just after 10am – well almost – as we lined up for our checks, Richard was
rummaging in his map case, and asking on the radio ’so where’s the first stop then?’! He was then advised of a dropped glove, slightly flat tyre and some trim coming adrift from his plane(!), but announced ready for off, so I took the first take-off.

Having had problems running at low oil temps lately, I had covered up more of my radiator and oil cooler, and was immediately slightly disturbed to find the temps now running a bit higher than I’d prefer – not in the danger zones, but enough to preoccupy me during the climbout and first 20 mins or so of the flight, till I could see where they were settling down to in the cruise. We switched to microlight frequency, and was further distracted with radio interference that I couldn’t get rid of with the squelch. We could all hear each others’ transmissions, but we had the added pleasure of continual interference as well. All this internal distraction meant that I quickly lost sight of everyone, and was relying on their position reports for reassurance that we were all reasonably close. Cloud was patchy, and we climbed above it spotting landmarks below. Milfield glider field appeared, and we tracked down the A1 towards Newcastle. It was wisely suggested that we regroup at Eshott before entering Newcastle zone as a group, and panic mounted for me as I couldn’t find Eshott, cloud seemed to be thickening, and still couldn’t see the rest of the squadron! After a few tense minutes, I realised I was too far south, and Richard reminded me to find the A1 and follow that to Eshott! A few minutes later and I saw the welcome site of 3 other planes circling above the clouds – relief! We decided to descend below cloud then and continue towards Newcastle, changing to Newcastle approach for transit through the zone. Gordon squawking his transponder, friendly controllers and wonderful views over the river, bridges and the ‘Armadillo concert hall’ glinting in the sunshine. The interference on the radio was less on Newcastle frequency, but I also then discovered a slightly dodgy connection between headset and radio, meaning that if I changed position a certain way, I lost connection. This unfortunately happened just as everyone was being told to change frequency to Teeside, and oblivious to the change I listened to Newcastle getting fainter and fainter…

… still in visual contact, we flew in a fairly tight formation so I was able to copy whatever the others were being instructed to do, but hearing nothing, I turned to microlight frequency as we’d agreed to do – but calling out to anyone else there was met with silence (apart from the interference, of course!)…

… deep breath – ok, I know we have to call Church Fenton MATZ before we get to Sherburn in Elmet to get permission to enter, so I’ll just tune into them and wait till I hear them call… concentrate on where we are as we travelled across North Yorkshire…

As we approached Sherburn, I could hear other planes talking to the MATZ for instructions, but no G-CGAZ! A bit further on, and I was pretty sure I could see Sherburn airfield in the distance! Shit!! OK.. we are within the Matz now, so must have permission… we need to change to Sherburn for joining instructions, so I’ll change there and pray……

… a minute later, the very welcome sound of ‘G-CGAZ formation of 4 microlights inbound to you, requesting airfield information and joining instructions’…… thank christ!  (they had been passed from Teeside to Leeming, then direct to Sherburn, so no wonder I hadn’t heard them!). I’d spent some considerable time studying the airfield plates and google satellite view of the airfield the night before, so was finally happy to be able to hear joining instructions and knew what we were meant to be doing. The formation spread out into
what was to become our familiar landing configuration of one long line, and we all announced turning finals – microlight 1, microlight 2, microlight 3 and finally G-EB, microlight 4 final for 25….. lovely long tarmac runway, long taxi to the parking area.. and finally engines off! 2 hrs 40 mins I made it on my clock…

Elated but still a bit rattled, I set to looking at my various problems… put the oil covers down a bit, looked at where I could reposition my headset connection so it wasn’t being caught up with me moving about, and Mike looked at the GPS to see that the backlight hadn’t been set up, which explained why I could hardly see it. We decided to save our sandwiches for the delights of ‘meal with chips’ from the Sherburn cafe! The lady serving seemed to be having a worse day than I was, as all her staff had called in sick, but she managed to produce some good, comfortingly stodgy fare and mugs of tea, for a very reasonable price, and I began to relax a bit with the familiar Yorkshire accents around (I was born in Leeds!).  We got the maps out to discuss the next leg – relief at no zones to transit, but slight concern that we’d be on microlight frequency/interference for the whole leg! No option of changing seats with Mike, as he hadn’t flown enough recently to take a passenger, so I was going to have to do this all… gird your loins, gal, and another deep breath!

Had to make a business phone call so retreated to the ladies to do that… ‘if I sound as if I’m in a toilet, its because I am!’… came out to find everyone getting ready to push planes into the fuelling bay to top up with mogas – one of the reasons we had picked Sherburn as a stop. Richard decided to go the other way round the one-way fuel bay (!), but otherwise fuelling was straightforward – 37 litres thank you (not quite the 15l/hour I was expecting fully laden with Mike plus camping gear!)… and the lovely Yorkshire folk pretended it was 40l to give me a free landing!

We were thinking about going into Westonzoyland microlight field for our next stop, and Graeme called for PPR. He was a bit surprised to be given the third degree about their complicated ‘no fly’ area procedures, and couldn’t answer in sufficient detail (this is Graeme?!) so we were refused entry!! Not much hope for anyone else then…..! So we went to plan B and called Dunkeswell.. this trip was starting to sound quite familiar now….!!

Sherburn in Elmet to Dunkeswell – 2 hr 40mins

The next leg had, in addition to the radio interference, the joys of having to turn the map round mid-flight, and trying to read it sideways…. however temperatures were behaving now, gps was more visible, and we stayed in visual contact with each other for the whole way. I found the route harder to navigate, with not that many distinctive landmarks – all the large Yorkshire towns looked fairly similar! We passed over Calton Moor, where Graeme had delivered Gordon and Jill’s last plane to its new owners earlier in the year, finally sighting Wolverhampton airfield ‘Hal’penny Green’ which was our turn point for due south. The weather was improving all the way, less cloud, and excitement mounted as I spotted landmarks that I’d seen when I came this way as Graeme’s passenger in 2007. I started to enjoy things more – managed to turn the map and we came past the hills above Great Malvern, seeing the mighty Severn glinting in the sunshine. Slight false spot of Bath – well, I remembered it appeared
as we came over a shelf of hills.. but the town I spotted was significantly smaller than Bath – and we soon came across the real thing – no mistake! Spotted the racecourse, and started to descend to 1500 feet to avoid Bristol airspace. Graeme commented on the strange feeling of flying towards the 2000ft Wells Mast at 1500 ft…. With the tailwind we were soon past the mast and able to climb a bit now that we were out of the airspace area…  and before long recognised Dunkeswell, where we had stopped off also in 2007. Runway 05, I knew the approach this time and we landed in our formation, perfectly one after the other… this was fun! We didn’t hear Richard calling, but he landed in behind us, and then told us he hadn’t got Dunkeswell programmed into his radio, and by the time we’d all announced we were changing, we’d changed before he could ask us to repeat the frequency! Tracked all the way up the long runway, parked and had a quick cup of tea before deciding where to head for the night. No contest for me… it had to be Bodmin again! To top the day off with a nice familiar flight, knowing where we were going and enjoying being able to show Mike where we’d been before.. we called Bodmin and were told that the radio would be unmanned, make blind calls, and there would be folk in the bar drinking beer when we arrived! Deja vu indeed!

Dunkeswell to Bodmin, 55 mins

Take off provided some amusement, as we taxied round to the runway intersection to do our checks, we all heard Richard’s voice saying ’strange.. that’s all very strange’……  Then the controller at Dunkeswell tried to cut in saying ‘you have your PTT switch stuck on!’..but of course Richard couldn’t hear him, because.. he had his PTT switch stuck on! Gordon and Jill tried to mime to him what was wrong, and eventually he turned his engine off, took his helmet off, just in time for Jill’s roar of ‘YOUR PTT SWITCH IS STUCK ON!!’ to transmit right through Richard’s headset and into ours … how can such a small person have such a loud voice?!!

Replay of 2007 again – magnificent flight over Cornwall, seeing the peninsula narrowing, water glinting in the lowering sunlight, Dartmoor looking moody with long shadows.. then landing again in formation for 03 in light winds. One thing with this formation landing, and these larger airfields – I found myself doing long, gradual final approaches rather than our shorter, steeper ones to give the planes in front plenty time to clear – airliner landings!

We all parked and efficiently set to unpacking the planes and setting up the tents, before joining the locals in the bar, and calling a taxi for the Blisland Inn (the best pub in England). Much more relaxed now, familiar territory, enjoying the beer and the feeling that I’d actually DONE it!

The Inn was lively – we didn’t think we’d get a table, but as we tried to squeeze ourselves round a small table, the people in the table we’d sat at in 2007 (!) got up to leave and gave us that… how good could this day get? There was a pub quiz going on, and I got a bit carried away when the announcer asked ‘who fell asleep in the teapot?’ and shouted out ‘the dormouse!’… ooops! Too much beer and confidence I think!

We had Beast burgers, and a chap in the next table started to chat to Jill as we more subtly whispered quiz answers to him. We only realised how friendly he was getting when he demanded some of her chips, without sauce if you please…..

We were glad we hadn’t participated in the pub quiz as one of the prizes was a large potted plant and we would really be stuck to pack that into the space remaining in the planes!

Great evening – taxi back to the airfield, access to the clubhouse to wash with hot water and nightcap with Graeme’s whisky, and snuggled into tents. It was colder than in 2007, but that suited me as it was nice to burrow into a warm sleeping bag. The wind picked up during the night, and we listened anxiously for creaking from the planes, but the ‘fighter pilot’ tie down method that Gordon had shown us stood fast – the planes were rigid, even though our tents were flapping and getting a good buffeting!

Day 2 – Bodmin to Lands End 55mins

Although we woke at 7am, by the time we got the bbq going, sausages and eggs cooked, then 4 planes refuelled (55l this time), Richard’s tyre pumped up, called Lands End for PPR and a wonderful lady gave us clear and detailed instructions for calling Culdrose MATZ first for some protection from all the military traffic – pre-flight checks revealed both Richard and I were getting low on oil, and no one had brought any! Having only done short flights for the last year, it hadn’t occurred to me that I might actually USE oil on a longer flight – ooops! Some more calls to find out the Cornish equivalent of what we get up north, and friendly Bodmin controller supplied us with top ups.

Finally off after 11am, as we took off 3 jets zoomed underneath us… gosh – calling Culdrose was good advice! Flew over the Eden Project, then St Austell, down to Mevagissey, and spotted the Lost Gardens of Heligan – not as impressive from the air as I’d hoped, as a lot of it is within trees! Tracked across to St Ives, and Gordon called Culdrose MATZ, armed with his transponder. Clipped female controller came back with ’station calling Culdrose, you are unreadable!’…!! Rubbish! We all heard him perfectly clearly… after
trying again, we all fell silent for a bit wondering what to do. Eventually Graeme took the initiative and tried calling them, and they heard him fine – asked him if he was transponder equipped, and he took a bit of a breath and said ‘yes’.. hoping that Gordon was hearing him! He read back the transponder setting, and Gordon thankfully tuned in as they then seemed quite happy. The ventriloquist act continued, with Graeme speaking and Gordon obeying! Finally passed onto Lands End, to be informed that the wind was 16kt down runway 07. I didn’t find the airfield easy to spot, and lost my bearings slightly as the peninsula narrowed, so when I finally did spot it it took a few moments to work out which runway we were using, but managed to follow the landing formation, and took the breathtaking long final out over the turquoise sea and white surf towards the strip!

We parked up and donned high vis jackets (Jill lent Richard her’s, and we only had one between us, so the unjacketed people had to be ‘escorted’ to the buildings!).. lots of photos in front of ‘Lands End Airport’ sign, then into the Control room to pay landing fees, causing much interest as we all produced Scottish £10 notes with different graphics on them!  We
queued up at the cafe to order Cornish Pasties and sandwiches, and as everyone else moved outside to sit in the sun, Richard and I were treated to the appearance of a stereotypical Cornish ‘Wrecker’ chap (straight out of ‘Poldark’!) coming out of the kitchen – twinkly eyes, wild hair and beard, missing teeth!  We raised simultaneous eyebrows, and turned away giggling to join the others! The pasties were wonderful, and we finished off with Clotted Devon Cream Ice creams… and planned the next leg.

The wind was going to be against us – the rest of the country was light winds, but the Cornish peninsula was 20-30mph easterlies – directly against us the whole way back!  We decided on Eaglescott, a small airfield just into Devon, and planned the tour along the North Cornish Coast.

Lands End to Eaglescott – 2hr 10mins

As we radioed in for taxi instructions, we were greeted by the wonderful voice of the lovely lady we had spoken to on the phone from Bodmin. We all agreed she was the BEST controller we had ever come across! She gave us detailed, clear taxi-ing instructions, explaining in good detail, but still professionally handling the stream of incoming and outgoing traffic around us. She apologised for having to hold us before we could take off, explaining why, and when we asked if we could track over Lands End itself before heading North, again gave us clear and detailed instructions, and ‘when you’ve seen what you want to see, if you’d like to follow the final approach path for 07 again while heading North, that would suit us very well just now’….  it was a delight to listen to her directing everyone, but being so friendly – someone saying ’sorry about my radio quality last time – I think it gets a bit tired like me’… ‘oh yes, your radio is much clearer now, G-xx, we were just commenting about it in the tower here’!!

We finally took off one after the other, flew over Lands End, then back north, seeing the remnants of many tin mines on the far North tip of coastline. This leg was just glorious, despite the headwind. We had time to admire the coastline, many airfields, deserted beaches, St Ives, Newquay, Padstow, Boscastle, Tintagel castle, Bude… Richard had suggested tuning into Newquay frequency as we passed, so which we were glad we did – its a busy airspace there! Finally we turned back to microlight frequency, and we discovered that the power lead to my GPS was causing the interference – I pulled it out and relied on batteries, and blissful silence! The terrain was just full of flat, grazing fields, so there were no worries about emergency landings, and I’d also managed to find a spot for my headset connection which didn’t get jogged about. By now we had perfected our formation – Gordon and Graeme would take off first, and hold back till Richard and I had caught up, then we would format in either a diamond, arrow or rhombus – the idea being that we were all slightly off centre from each other so that we could all see each other. It worked well, and I felt so proud to be part of the ‘microlight formation of 4′ that we announced to everyone! Graeme looked back at one point and commented on the glorious sight of the wonderful coastline, and all our planes in perfect formation behind him!

We decided to give seeing Clovely a miss, although it would have been lovely to see it was quite a detour from the direct track to Eaglescott and we were in a strong headwind. Again, I found Eaglescott
difficult to spot – in fact didn’t really see it till Graeme announced he was overhead and descending deadside! A little grass strip, with a clubhouse, and Richard plugged his phone in to charge up while he made a couple of calls. The lady there then asked Richard to please unplug his phone – the whole building was powered by a single windmill, and that just provided enough power for the radio today!! Richard then felt slightly guilty that he was depriving the entire airfield of power…! We got tea, paid landing fees, and then started the discussion about where we could get to for the night. The headwind was quite punishing, and fuel consumption was going to be an issue – specially for us. Our initial hope of making Welshpool was definitely not going to happen – with only 2 hours of light left, we mused on a few options round Bath/Bristol, but then finally decided to get back to Dunkeswell, as we could be guaranteed fuel there, it would take us about an hour, and it was a bit further towards home. We called for permission to camp – no problem, and we could get fuel that night, so we could have an early start tomorrow for the long haul home.  Sorted!

Eaglescott to Dunkeswell : 50 mins.

Another peaceful, evening flight – formation landings, and pulled up to park at our camping spot. Unpacked, then took the planes round to the fuel bowser – and Graeme’s plane wouldn’t start! Mike pushed him to the bowser, while we taxied over, and we all fuelled up and returned back to the campsite. Gordon suggested turning his prop backwards to ‘reset the starter’, and thankfully that seemed to work – obviously something going on with the starter, but as Graeme said, as long as it starts tomorrow a couple more times, we’re ok and he can get it sorted when he gets back!

Richard and I went into pay for our fuel, and another ’stereotypical Somerset character’ passed through the room causing more exchanged looks between us and giggles! As we were standing, Richard asked ’so why is Mike not flying?’ I explained his situation, and Richard said ‘well why don’t you fly as my passenger tomorrow and let him have a chance to fly?’!  Since we had the same headset system, we realised that could work, and he then warmed to his suggestion and started to tempt me with promises of Elgar over the Malvern Hills, and Fawlty Towers episodes from his new iPod installation into his plane! We came out to to make the offer to Mike, who adopted ’startled rabbit’ look – not quite the reaction Richard had been expecting! However he thought a bit more about it, and decided to give it a go – I was easy either way – I was now loving doing the flying, but also liking the prospect of being Richard’s passenger for a change and listening to Fawlty Towers and enjoying the views!

We asked the airfield what the village pub was like for food, and they said ‘to be honest, the food is probably better here, and the restaurant is open till 9pm’. We were keen to sample another English Pub experience, and reckoned that if the food didn’t look up to much, we could at least come back and use the restaurant here… so set off down the hill to the local pub. It looked promising from the outside, but was very quiet, apart from an ill looking cat perched on a bar stool, and yet another ’stereotypical local’ perched at the end of the bar. Jill immediately started quizzing the barman about the cat, suggesting thyroid tests, and the ‘local’ butted in saying he’d stick a boot at it if it were his cat…. Jill retorted that she’d ’stick her boot where the sun didn’t shine in his direction’… and that rather set the tone for the pub! The beer was lovely, but the atmosphere was restricted to our table, and we decided to go back up to the restaurant at the airfield for food.

On reaching the airfield, the restaurant looked suspiciously quiet, and we found that the staff had all gone home because no one seemed to be eating tonight! Oh dear! We still had some sausages and eggs, and a bbq, but no bread – so asked the barman, Mick,  if we could buy some rolls or bread or something? He said ‘wait a moment’, disappeared for a couple of minutes, then came back and said ‘I can do you sausages and chips if you like?’!! By this time the beer had taken its toll… sausage and chips would be wonderful!! can we help? ‘I might call on you…’ in the event another bar customer who was a chef went round to help him, and then the offer of eggs with it? yes please! What a star was Mick – some people are just so warm hearted and helpful! We had a lovely jolly evening in the bar, then retreated to all squeeze into Graeme’s tent to polish off the bottle of wine that appeared out of Gordon and Jill’s seemingly bottomless panniers – they produced all the home comforts from that plane, including a wind up lantern to light the tent! We tried to spread out the charts to plan tomorrow’s route, but were getting wine spillages mixed up with the MATZ zones, so eventually called it a night and retreated to our tents!

Morning – 7am start and lit the bbq right away… we all promptly got up and started packing up, then found the parachute club toilet and shower block – if only we’d seen that last night, Jill and I sighed! No point in showering now as we were heading home..

… I asked Mike again if he was sure he wanted to do this leg – it was going to be a long one – aiming for Barton, Low level corridor etc… but he seemed to be up for it, and when Richard offered to trade his fuel cans and rucksack for ‘woman’, we packed them into our passenger seat and I moved my cushion to Richard’s plane. We agreed that Wolverhampton could be a stop off before the corridor if required.

We ate our sausages, without bread but pooled Richard’s croissants, various muesli bars etc and cups of tea for breakfast. Then were amazingly ready for off.. just after 9am!

Day 3 Dunkeswell to Barton – 3hrs 35 mins.

Richard led out for a change – but his call to ‘Dunkerly’ radio wasn’t responded to – he had programmed the name in as Dunkerly and was reading off his radio! Finally someone responded (did they remember him from last time?!), and we taxied to the holding point for checks, waited for an incoming plane, then we were lining up and off!

The formation was more spread out this time, with Mike on the far left and seeming to disappear further left… we suggested he track right a bit to rejoin us, and were a bit surprised when he then shot across in front of us, not quite seeing where we were! He seemed to be bouncing around left and right, up and down like a demented bumble bee… and having difficulty seeing us… and Graeme called with some trepidation that we were descending to 1500 for Bristol zone..  if Mike wasn’t seeing us, he could plow into us! We proceeded with some reservation.. Mike calling that he still couldn’t really see any of us… I caught sight of him above us at one point but we’re not quite sure what altitude he went through Bristol zone!

After that, we seemed to split into 2s… Richard and Graeme sticking together, and I could see 2 specs over to my left which I think were Gordon in front, and Mike behind him and above. As we passed Wells and then Bath, Richard set up the inflight entertainment(!), and we listened to a couple of Fawlty Towers episodes – a great way to pass a slow journey, although I hadn’t realised that he’d disengaged the radio completely to damp down the interference! It was nice to do the lookout but be the ’second pair of eyes’ rather than the first… we were in formation with Graeme, and I could occasionally see the others in the distance. Mike mistook the Bath racecourse for a microlight
airfield and thought that the microlight he was following might actually be nothing to do with our formation which concerned him a tad – but a radio call reporting Bath Racecourse from Gordon clarified and reassured him he was still part of the team and not chasing someone else entirely.

After enjoying ‘Mrs Richards’, and ‘the Builders’ episodes, Richard called back on the radio asking if we’d missed anything! ‘Not much!’ replied Graeme….

We approached Crewe, which signified that the Low Level Corridor was approaching, and we stayed at the back as the formation drew closer to traverse the corridor. We could see what I assumed was Mike weaving about a bit, but we were fairly far behind and busy looking out for landmarks and traffic, so didn’t really think too much about it. We agreed that it was probably good we weren’t going in first to Barton – the combination of the long flight, unfamiliarity (Richard hadn’t done Barton, or ‘Barnton’ as he kept calling it(!) before), low level flying at 1200 ft, and busy airport – we were happy to leave it to Gordon and Graeme to lead the way!

The Manchester low level corridor is well named – under 1250 feet with Manchester below and with possible busy VFR traffic heading in either direction. Mike was clinging to Gordon’s tail trying to avoid its wake turbulence and getting lift off the unforgiving concrete of Manchester with uninviting tall chimneys vomiting clouds of steam. It is best described like a WW2 movie of low level strafing runs through enemy cities – all we needed was Dambuster music. This was also the timely point when Mike’s radio played up so he was only catching snippets of the ATC communication.

We spotted the airfield, Gordon called in that the microlight formation of 4 were approaching and we were instructed to join overhead at 2000ft for runway 27 Left, right hand circuit (! – there are 2 runway 27s.. one Left and one Right!)…  another plane appeared in the circuit as well, and was advised of our presence, then kindly said he’d extend his downwind to let us through. Our circuit was smaller than his, and he announced he could see 3 micros in front of him. ‘he hasn’t seen us!’  I said to Richard, and we decided to stay behind and come in after the fixed wing. As we were downwind, we suddenly spotted Mike, above us but in the downwind leg, doing a 180 turn and trying to exit the circuit to avoid running into the lead aircraft in what he described as being in a Quidditch match!

‘What on earth is he doing?’ and the controllers were asking the same thing – he was lurching about all over the place, and the controller asked ‘G-EB is that you going the wrong way round the circuit?’…. ‘er yes, I’m a bit confused about the airfield layout and getting too close to the plane in front…. ‘… We were now behind the fixed wing, but we were now the third microlight, so announced that we were now 3rd, hoping that Mike would realise he was behind us now. It was a fairly frantic final, flying over the motorway flyover, wondering where Mike was and aware he was very close behind coming out of the sun… but we landed, cleared and saw Mike coming in closely behind – the wind was very light, and he was lucky to avoid our wake!

We joined the others in the fuel queue, and a Barton official came up to us ‘is that you that mucked the circuit up?’..’no.. it was him!’.. we pointed to Mike as he drew up to the fuel point.

Words were had… we were all just relieved to be down in one piece… and it dawned on me that this had been a more stressful leg for Mike than we had ever anticipated…. and it had all come to a point in the Barton circuit. Human Factors indeed….

His fuel was almost out (3 hrs 35, but he’d burned 58l, and that was solo!)… so he’d been worried about that in the final stages, he found flying in formation really hard (we’d all had 2 days practice at it by now!) – we realised after that his thick soled MBT shoes meant he couldn’t feel his foot throttle very well, and was continually trying to slow down but on full revs so having to weave back and forward trying to keep behind but coming uncomfortably close to Gordon’s plane…  this was magnified on the low level bit which was stressful enough, his altimeter was possibly not set correctly, his headset connection cut out as we approached Barton and he didn’t hear the joining nstructions properly… so he didn’t really know what he was doing, and above all that had in his head that Barton, being a large airport in Manchester, would be tarmac rather than grass… so wasn’t expecting to be overhead when he was…..and abandoned the circuit when he found he wasn’t spaced out enough from the rest of us…

… A lot of lessons to learn. In retrospect putting in at Halfpenny Green, Wolverhampton, for fuel and a low level corridor, Barton circuit and formation briefing would have been sensible. In retrospect we should have persuaded Mike to do the final leg home to a familiar airfield rather than this leg (but he wanted to do something ‘new’!)… he hadn’t flown since May, and not much before that.. and although had been planning to try to fit in 3 landings during the trip, so that he could fly with me in the back, we really hadn’t had any opportunity to do that… so he had resigned himself to not flying, and then suddenly an opportunity arose….

Sandwiches for lunch (no chips – we were chipped out!), and planned the next leg (with a wilting Mike exchanging Richard’s fuel cans and rucksack back for ‘woman’ saw me flying again) over the Lake District if it was nice… we’d speak to Warton Military zone as we were passing close to them, and we knew they are friendly from previous experiences.

Barton to East Fortune 2hr 45mins

A lovely leg… back in familiar formation and Warton kept their tornados below us (yes, we saw them!), over Morecombe bay, and then the mountains of the Lake District came into view! We stayed at about 5,000 feet, but Gordon went below the broken cloud and skirted around the mountains – I was following him directly above, so was able to tell him in tourguide Barbie style which mountains he was looking at..! the scenery didn’t disappoint, and Graeme and I were able to reminisce about our trip a couple of months ago when we flew my son Stuart and his 4 geology student friends around the hills they were mapping down there. It was a glorious tour, and we tracked north after Blencathra towards the west side of Carlisle.. all picking different heights to catch the best speed. The headwind had died down considerably by now, and we stayed in formation all the way back to East Fortune. It was only when we had landed that I think we realised how incredibly lucky we’d been with the weather – we really hadn’t had to even think about it, apart from the headwind on the way home… but to get 3 days of clear skies and flyable winds after the summer we have had… Wow!

August started on a Saturday, which means that no other month this year starts on a Saturday (unless this was a leap year, which it ain’t – February in a leap year starts on the same day of a week as August). So the Saturday saw us up bright and early for Gutbusting as usual, involving being shouted at for not exercising fast enough, then it was off to Glasgow Science Centre to gaze at their closed Tower (what an indictment of Science and Engineering prowess that they can’t open it) and wait in the cafe for the Imax showing as being a museum outside London it costs over 8 quid per person to go around it.

Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince in 3D – that was the attraction – the reason to drive for a couple of hours to the Science Centre to see it. What we got was a huge IMAX screen and ten minutes (yes count them), ten minutes of 3D – half of which was an advert for a 3D Christmas Carol and the movie titles – the huge screen seemed to lessen the resolution too so overall not great. The destruction of the London Millennium bridge in 3D was decent – but I felt the rest of the 3D made the characters look like flat stick figures, which was interesting in itself. The Animated advert was the most impressive 3D experience – 3D and animation is such a great combination.

Dining out after the cinema meant losing our way in Glasgow and ending up on the M8 motorway back to Edinburgh, the thought of negotiating the tram works was not on – so we ended up in South Queensferry for an Indian, where Stuart and I robbed of our science experience in Glasgow were experimenting with the oil filled lights and proved that you couldn’t set the restaurant on fire with them – everyone else was edging closer to the fire exit.

Down the Tweed was the call on Sunday – everyone assembled in the Kelso Town Square as requested – a veritable visual feast of wet suits and brightly coloured boats – it turned out that Bob was actually somewhere else with our canoes. After half an hour we sent a scout out who reported on Bob’s position and we assembled at the bank of the Tweed and prepared for launch. Stuart and Steph in one open canoe and me in the other, kneeling and armed with kayak paddle and single canoe paddle and two lengths of scaffolding for punting. The river was higher than normal and the fish were jumping. We set off waving at the folk on the new Kelso bridge and hoping they weren’t going to gob at us (my tilly hat was worn as gob protector).

A sequence of weirs, one is the triple weir at Banf Mill where a breaking wave broke over my bow and soaked me. Stu and Steph double team powered through the weirs and kept going – I caught up with them only to find the wind was pushing us further downstream and lost all the others. We pulled in and decided to lunch only to find a panting Lizzie paddling down on her own looking for us. She paddled a bit further upstream so she could get out and stretch her legs and on trying to join her found myself even further downstream than Stu-Steph. So it wasn’t entirely a social lunch stop with me grabbing hold of reeds at one point of the river, Stu-Steph wedged into the bank, Lizzie striding around munching her sandwich and all the rest up at the weir wondering where on earth we had all disappeared to.

Finally we all reassembled and pushed by wind one chap decided to erect a sail made out of his jumper and a paddle and was making decent headway down the river powered by wind. I was completely at the stern with the bow out of the water using that as a sail, which was a decent idea until the wind changed as we turned a corner and I found myself blown onto rocks, turned around and heading backward down the weir and then into a set of trees (many branches of which were in my canoe when I beached). We saw a whooping swan along with some Bewick swans, lots of ducks particularly wearing a surprised expression as I hit the lee banks, one tiger moth flew over us and a couple of walkers waved at us from the shore. The weather was fine and the Kelso to Coldstream stretch took its toll on me – I went to bed early and snored all the way through till morning.

Comparison websites – whilst in the process of battling through the interfaces of moneysupermarket, comparethemarket et al we came across a few blogs which enlightened us to the fact that it is the insurance companies themselves who own the comparison sites and so their comparisons are between differing brands of the same insurance group (i.e. comparethemarket == Budget). As cunning as a meerkat.

Although I had an aviation RT licence for the radio for my plane, I didn’t have one for my handheld VHF waterproof marine radio for sailing and kayaking and the aviation licence didn’t cover it so it was time to go on a course in a North Berwick church. I parked in North Berwick and a woman parked beside me and then started to go on about the parking problem in North Berwick – as far as the eye could see were empty places in a car park a short distance from the High Street so I wasn’t too sure what the problem was.

The VHF instructor had just returned from Antarctica and there were three others on the course – a diver who had been off St Abbs the previous day; a geologist from British Geological Survey, just back from Antarctica too, and who was going on a purporse built ship to map a white ribbon of unsurveyed land off the British coast; and a taxi driver from Kelso who had bought a boat suffering from osmosis and wanted to learn to sail so he could winter it in the med.

The radios were all wired together and we bartered cockscrews for Golf November Tango (G’n'T) and we learned nuggets of information such as that all calls are made first on the distress channel 16 – what! – then changed to another channel to free up the distress channel. Fortunately with digital radios it is possible to make a call to a ship without going through the distress channel first. In addition Maydays come down to pressing a button and all your details including position from onboard GPS are sent out digitally – provided you haven’t sunk more than 35 nautical miles from the nearest station. The EPIRB rescue beacon used to operate on the aviation distress frequency of 121 decimal 5 MegaHertz – and that used to narrow down your location to 500 square miles of ocean! Now GPS gives it in metres… thankfully.

Lunch was in the North Berwick Fry fish and chip restaurant which had a flast screen telly with subtitles talking about breast enlargement as 40 Indian women were chatting about finding a husband.

We all sat our test in different rooms each with stained glass looking down upon us and over coffee we were all told we had passed and went through the questions we got way wrong!

I had dinner arranged later so had some time to kill so went for ice cream in Gullane and picked up some lovely cake from the German bakery there, drove along the coast to Edinburgh then down to meet Gordon making a greenhouse with Mike, who carves erotic phalluses (according to the local newspaper – he calls them mushrooms)

Because we stayed in Edinburgh I took the chance to get sailing gloves and a fog horn (testing it at 0530 every morning at the moment) from Port Edgar Chandelry and wandered around the modern art galleries (John Bellany’s paintings of Scottish fishing ports and Damian Hirst’s formaldehyded ewe) behind two hand holding men, I assumed they were an exhibit, when I stumbled across the Dean Cemetery – as there was a granite pyramid peeking over the cemetry wall just where I had parked my car.

The pyramid was only one of the delights in the graveyard though – exxotic monuments with birds standing on rams heads on top of winged lions, sleeping lions with owls watching over them and a monunment to John Irving from the Franklin Expedition (where they turned cannibal) with carved depiction of Erebus and Terror the two ships lost with all hands in the search for the North West Passage (where is Global Warning when you really need it). Delightful place to wander around on a very sunny day.

I got back home to find that I had scored 90% in my first celestial navigation exam so was very chuffed and celebrated with a chilled beer.

News stories tend to drift across us in a ‘who cares’ sort of way – the Berlin Wall didn’t because it was such a seachange that it was obviously going to change the world and it was great to see attractive women dancing on the wall. What is happening in Iran just now, in the blue corner is the recently ‘re-elected’ incumbent government and in the green corner is the opposition who seriously believe the election was rigged, is more buttock clenching because things are being fought for – this is freedom wrought from real oppression – Berlin kind of wanted freedom anyway with the guards deliberately missing escaping east Berliners – these bastards don’t. Eight dead and countless injured from beatings with horrific pictures and video of the police doing the beatings with sticks – and the press confined to their hotels with no information coming out.

Or so the bastards thought.

Twitter unbelievably comes to the fore – simple under 140 character messages become resistance encryptions to release real stories about what is going on which every new agency is listening to. The US foreign office has even asked Twitter’s ISP to delay its outage for essential maintenance to allow this communication to continue. This is almost a World War II type of operation with a 21st century spin – cyber warfare is real.

There are real people risking real lives in Iran twittering information to a global audience (I see 1200 messages waiting in a minute on twitter on #iranelection” – this is a 21st century phenomenon – like the documentary ‘Death in Yugoslavia’ this is a media driven war or a cyberwar over a protest on a suspect election.

The Irananian secret service are seeking out the Iranian twitterers so everyone is setting their twitter position to Teheran and their time to GMT +3.5 to protect them. And they are blocking proxy servers allowing them to twitter in the first place so tens of thousands of people, like me, are opening up Iranian IP addresses to allow oppressed protesters the chance to speak to the world.

Without twitter I wouldnt have seen the shocking Boston Globe photographs and not had a sense of how important this world event was and how horrific it can turn into. This is such an electronic warfare with photoshopped pictures of government rallies with figures duplicated to make it look large! Fake sites are asking for name/address/mobile and email address of supporters are set up to gather list of supporters to silence them. Cyber attacks (DDOS) on the Iranian government websites are soaking up Iranian bandwidth for the supporters as well as the government.

Long live freedom, having read Persepolis recently it was so depressing to see the first few chapters recreated in the news – hopefully the 21st century technology will change the later chapters. Obama did point out that the opposition policies are not far removed from the current government, although Holocaust denial doesn’t seem to be amongst them.

Green marks the colour of the revolution – people colour their twitter icons green, Iranian football playes wear green bracelets and people got excited when the BBC’s page went green (it does that depending on one of 4 colours – ironically it means Comedy on the BBC site).

What will happen if it is found out that the current government have been democratically elected after all (assuming the recount takes place and is shown in their favour) where will democracy supporters stand then?

The guardian reports -
Readers: Please keep in mind that Twitter is not reliable and that the Guardian is for the most part unable to verify the authenticity of these feeds. We are doing our best to maintain our standard, stringent journalistic practices, but since the Iranian government has banned foreign journalists from covering the protests, it is difficult.

Live tweeting