The Wiltshire Flyers
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KEN’S CLANGERS
I wondered if the attached may be of interest
for the newsletter, it's one of a series I wrote for our group newsletter.
Regards
Ken
On a recent flight with a low houred pilot to I had numerous instructors. However I eventually settled
on an elderly and wise Kiwi who not only had a good sense of humour but also was
a very good instructor (mostly). (I shall call him Ray though that’s not his
real name, he just reminds me of someone). Ray had an Afghan PPL, a wife who was
in the first Jumbo crash, and a moped (he lived in Let
me explain. On
one particular occasion we managed to split a formation of Jaguars, I saw two
very close below and evidently three went over us.
The ensuing phone call with Ray ended with a one sided discussion about
cats sticking to drinking bloody milk! No small wonder It
took a few years to reason why Ray and I ended up together. The last flight
before my transfer to Ray was with a seasoned spray plane pilot.
We’d been on a late winters afternoon Navex in the clubs Cessna 150.
Now the old airfield at Skegness lies at sea level (another problem I
couldn’t get my head round was that Skegness, Boston and Fenland had the same
QFE and QNH - why didn’t other airfieds do that?), was very small, and from
memory, the longest runway was about 480 meters and lay very wet in the winter. The
airfield was also surrounded by deep dykes, the bottoms of which were
regularly seen by visiting aircraft (I kid you not) so one had to arrive fairly
precisely. Got the picture. On this trip I’d really pulled the stops out, and
all had gone well for a change. I really wanted to finish with a bit of panache!
A great landing…..real short field stuff (we hadn’t got that far in the
training). So I had the bright idea of landing with the brakes ON. I could tell
immediately we landed the instructor was impressed, as all he could say was
F….k, promptly getting out and walking away - no whack no stars.
I did feel though, we should have had a chat about tightening seat belts
before landing. As
I drove off the airfield I looked at the two skid marks which had an oil like
sheen in the setting sun. I had a grin from ear to ear as I drove home. Cracked
it at last - a Greaser. And
so it was that Ray and I came to be wandering far and wide around Then
the great day came for my qualifying solo cross country. The route being west to
the Skegness railway line, follow that south to All
this was before GPS was ever thought of and lots of controlled airspace to
contend with. Off
I went, seriously lacking in confidence. Conningsby was busy chatting to the
BBMF on a photo shoot (at least I could say I’d worked alongside a couple of
Spitfires and Lancaster – on the radio that is).
We, Cessna 150 G-ATYN (better known as Yankee No-wonder, the scourge of
the RAF) and I reached Boston ok , turned right and tuned in Radio Nottingham on
NDB, flew past Belvoir Castle, bang on track, changed to Nottingham, turned left
at the Fosse way and switched off the NDB. No
problems. My confidence starting to
build I reported to the Tower. ‘Where’s
the bit of paper to sign?’ Ray had
forgotten to send it. Great.
I knew my way to Humberside,
my next stop, was no real problem. My
confidence was beginning to take over, I was almost blasé about it all now.
I phoned Fran to say I would be flying a little to the south of home on
the Skegness leg, and I could route slightly north to fly over our house near
Louth. That would be in 30 minutes or so. This all panned out beautifully, I saw
Fran waving with both arms in the back yard. To show it was me, I pitched, yawed
and did everything I could think of (pretty limited as this was my very first
flying display after all) before continuing on my way. The rest of the flying
day was pretty mundane. I booked out and went home. I
walked through the house door with another ear to ear grin.
‘You saw me then’ I said to Fran.
‘No’. I thought she
was winding me up but she wasn’t, I could tell.
So who was that in the yard waving enthusiastically?
I glanced out of the window, to see…… my boiler suit on the washing
line, swaying gently in the breeze!!!!! My
first and last attempt at performing in front of a crowd.
Not
long after this Ray headed south on his moped for the last time. I’d learnt a
lot from the old bugger. Not least we are all very human and that our type of
flying is for fun something not taught by modern instructors. The
flying club CFI changed to a real pilot and the atmosphere within the club
became relaxed. I gained my licence,
moving away from |
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