Category Archives: Flying

All started off well.. arrived to a deserted East Fortune, and managed
to dig g-cweb out of the back of the hanger on our own (no mean
feat!), fuelled up and overcame initial radio problems (plugged P1
into the wrong socket after taking the radio out to programme in
Leuchars Tower!)… I encouraged Mike to do a circuit or 2 initially
before heading out, but he came in on the first approach wobbling away
in strange crosswinds, declared a go-around then decided ‘f***-it,
lets just head off!’ I’m sure this confused the fireman-chap and
another carload of spectators who had just arrived to hear the fireman
chap saying to mike ‘you’re not taking off in this, are you?”!

Over the Forth fine, trying to contact Leuchars Approach, but no one
answering – however we could hear them speaking to another plane, who
kindly offered to relay for us.. mike said ‘oh jolly good’, and
‘wilco’ or something, then promptly fell silent – so I explained he
had to pass his message to the plane who would pass it to
Leuchars…..

they changed us onto Tower, so that was fine, heard them ok, skirting
around low broken cloud, but a big lump of it was sitting over
Leuchars, so all enquiries ‘do you have the airfield in sight?’ were
‘negative’…. Looking for the Eden estuary, I spotted water, then
realised it was the Tay with the bridges, so we confessed we had
‘overshot due to cloud and were returning south’…..

very nice lady controller was very helpful – ‘descend to avoid cloud
at your discretion, no traffic to affect you, cloud is broken at
700ft, cleared to land on 09′ (was initially going to be the ‘old one’
at 04 but this was the brand spanking new runway!).. they asked if we
were familiar with Leuchars? ‘negative’… ‘ 09 right hand, qfe 1010
catch wires are position UP, at 1300ft…’… seemed straightforward
when we first heard it, but with the cloud and increasing panic, when
she finally said ‘airfield is in your 10 o’clock do you have visual?’
and mike still saying ‘negative’… I suddenly spotted acres of tarmac
with about 20 papi lights gleaming in welcome.. ‘its straight ahead,
ask to come in on final approach!”.. ‘granted for straight in
approach, call finals’.. we were on a perfect line for landing, when
suddenly mike said ‘oh, the wires, they’re at 1,300 feet’ and suddenly
zoomed upwards! confusion and panic, then realised they couldn’t
possibly be 1300ft HIGH (in retrospect if they’d kept references to
distance in metres, and left feet to height…!)… so resumed
approach angle somewhat dramatically and took up a bit more of that
>2000m runway than we’d anticipated! Crosswind then took hold and we
were careering towards the right edge of the HUGE runway, but managed
to stay on the tarmac and were instructed to ‘backtrack, then look out
for the silver car who would escort us to our parking bay!’ We taxied
past the missiles and parked fighters, and given a spot outside a
hanger opposite the one where the concert was being held.

The RAF offical who escorted us seemed rather dour, and perhaps didn’t
take kindly to mike’s ‘israel air force’ t-shirt being revealed as he
took off his flying suit….

we pulled GCWEB onto grass and in tribute to being on the airbase I
hobbled it ‘fighter style’(!) so it didn’t look out of place…

we were then escorted to the canteen to get a coffee and see the
performers getting ready – lots of low rumblings as the ‘throaties’
warmed up…

6 coaches finally arrived with the plebs, and the dour RAF official
was in his element directing everyone and doing the safety briefing
(warning everyone not to wander off, as the area was sealed off with
patrols and attack dogs, who were so named for a very good reason!)..
, then the hanger doors opened with klaxons and lights going, and we
filed into the hanger, which was superbly lit up with coloured
lights…

The concert was brilliant – the acoustics and the lighting were just
amazing, and at one point they opened up the bit that the jet flames
blast into, behind the choral singers, and that was all lit up too…
lights lighting up different parts of the hanger to direct you to
different parts – really imaginative and memorable! the end was a
piper who started playing something that sounded like the music from
the film ‘last of the mohicans’, and the throaties started to join in
tapping their instruments, audience were clapping and whooping and was
all very jolly!

someone then asked us ‘what coach we were on’.. yes! we crowed ‘we
came by microlight!’.. oh, you’re the microlighters..!’

apparently, the director of the event said the article in the scotsman
had hit idaho and they were planning ‘fly in concerts’ there as they
thought it was such a good idea!

Came out to rain, but the cloudbase above looked like the same mix of
low scattered and mid-broken that we’d arrived in, so we decided to go
for it… RAF-chappie was much happier now we were heading off, so I
took the front seat and he escorted us to the runway, waving us
cheerily off……

had to dodge cloud on the way back, and up to 8,000 over the Forth,
lost contact with Tower who had advised us to keep on their frequency
due to the problems we’d had with Approach on the way out.. but we
lost contact with them over the water, so I phoned in, reporting home
and thanked them, when we landed… in pouring rain!!!

Had a lovely bar supper in Garvald on the way back.. end to a really
memorable day, and quite a good achievement of Forsyth teamwork!

The plan was to fly somewhere. The democratic choices were France, Ireland or Orkney. The weather was the dictator. We were heading to none of them, possibly.

All trips start with checks

Remedial landings done – check;
New plane but low hours – check;
Untried GPS – check;
Untried wiring – check;
First time Kim and I have flown together over distance – check;
Unknown destinations and suspect runways – check;
Busiest time at work all year to leave – check;
This was all set to be the mother of all disasters – check

And it wasn’t. It was brilliant. unchecked;

It did not start well though.

We were set to fly off on Monday – but the weather was appalling so we all gave up (sensibly of course). So we all assembled on Tuesday. Where we all spent ages working out where to go and fixing bits that didn’t work. We were then ready to set off. That was when our plane didn’t start. After all that time at the airfield I hadn’t figured that checking the plane started was a low prioirity… doh! It was a loose wire so ok so far. Graeme’s ipod needed rebooting so I spent less time standing around as others with more ability to squeeze into microspaces looking or broken wires spotted the problem. Fixed. We set off in a single squadron.

We took off which was a bit of an experiment – we were fully loaded with Kim and I , full tank and most of the Tiso camping department bulging from the luggage space and the lightweight duvets in the wings. Acually most of the weight on take off was the boxes of wine, soay sheep sausages and my countless gadgets.

We took off. And stayed in the air – things were going well.

We then found out that there was a domino effect that neither of us found flying alone. Kim in the back pushed me forward. Mike and his stomach pushed the map forward. There was no space between this and the radio. Thus the map did three actions randomly – each of which confuse a pilot but together really confuse a pilot. In any case they really confused me.

The map hit the ’squelch’ which rendered a high pitched squeak into our headphones, at the same time it changed the radio channel to something random like Edinburgh Airport Approach but fortunately also changed the radio from transmit mode to ‘lets find a VFR beacon mode’). Either one of these was a bit of a puzzle if it had ever happened before – all three happening together was a bit like solving a rubik’s cube if you are colour blind – whilst you are trying to follow more experienced pilots on a track through the edge of controlled airspace where we could be colliding with any number of larger planes.

This was a good start. I was the pilot and although I could have relied on the expensive GPS I had strapped on for comfort – I was really concerned about radio. It would be nice to speak to the others before landing. Just for separation reasons.

Kim had come across some problems and I had come across others before. Together we were back on track and speaking to everyone else. This was the first 10 minutes and we had a couple of hours to go. I had a stomach to lose or the map and although the map would be easier to lose it was a bit reassuring to know where you were.

The trip was beginning finally as we swiftly advanced into the squadron finally all on radio, all swiftly looking forward and swiftly missing the cessna aircraft powering down on us. ‘What type of airspace are we flying in’ did Colonel Blimp (transferred to the air force) blustered at Air Traffic Control. Encountering 4 microlights must have come as a bit of a shock when you imagine you are in some form of protected space (very few horizontal and vertical acres of the UK air space).

West Linton VRP (Visual Reference Point aka obvious thing to spot) rushed past with the GPS completely shouting TERRAIN TERRAIN TERRAIN and clearing the map as if we were plunging into the bloody hill. From there are three cities and New Lanark (which isn’t new at all but an industrial experiment and that seems to have some ghastly Charlie Dimmock garden stuck inappopriately on the roof. Apart from distracting passing pilots this must be a demented idea of an espresso fuelled public agency.

Over nuclear power stations and the outflow, long lines of pylons, the track where Gordon learned to fly, over Bute and over the sea, not to Skye, but to Gigha.

Over the water down to the airfield and then it was an encouraging landing – too high, too fast, too high, too fast, too left, too right. Remember not to land. Smooth landing. Long runway.

Taxi plane to camping ground, unload planes. Smile.

The weather is glorious so we all decide to fly over the Jura runway to check it for landing tomorrow – ready for takeoff. Graeme signals a problem and a carburretor rubber decides that it wants to split. Gordon would fly back and pick up a spare but we also try calling the club to see if anyone there could fly over – and a rescue party is assembled.

Richard builds tent, being an architect I expected something grander, while cattle look on adoringly. Kim builds tent and hobbles plane. We walk to pub. We eat/drink and walk back. Whisky party in graeme’s tent then stagger back and fall over titanium tent pegs and into our cocoon.

Snores echo around – it is just as well we are all miles from anywhere. Bliss.