Snow again!

Annnddd just when you thought the weather was changing for the better you find yourself the night before flying watching the snow floating down past the windows and wondering what you’ve let yourself in for.

In a fit of optimism I pitched up to the airport anyway,  tromped across the snowy apron, and got a head start on clearing the snow from the wings and as much as I could from the tail to let the bright sun start working on the rest.

My optimism (and wooly hat) were in line for a certain amount of comment, but I was soon fortified with coffee,  a sausage sandwich, and the latest gossip around the field from everyone else who was waiting to fly.

The air ambulance had a gallant attempt at whisking the snow off the runway for us with a low pass along the length, but it was more pretty than it was effective!

Lunchtime passed with another sortie to the cafe, by which time the snow was turning to slush on the apron, the aircraft was more or less clear and the final delay was the runway itself.

Finally around 2ish 04 was open.  Crosswind, since it had thawed faster than 01, but open.

Optimism rewarded!  I trooped outside, made a final check for snow and ice on the aircraft, finished my walkaround and taxied cautiously to the hold.

Bit late in the day to go anywhere in particular now, so I wandered west to have a look at snow there.  It lay in strange bands, Gower white, Carmarthen clear, easterly Pembrokeshire white, the western coast clear.  Strange.  In some places the transition between snow and no-snow was the length of one field.

The Preseli hills were striking, white slopes and topped by a dramatic cloud formation which was probably adding to the whiteness as I watched.  I skirted around, delighted by the view, but wary enough to keep by distance from it!

The clouds were absolutely the colour of the snowcovered ground beneath, moving slowly from peak to peak as I watched.

It took a conscious effort to draw my eyes off the sight long enough to keep up a decent scan for traffic.  Not that there was much, a few out of Swansea who’d been waiting along with me to fly, by Pembrey and Haverfordwest were silent.

All very lovely and it was only the thought of how quickly it would get cold and unpleasant once the sun lowered that eventually drove me to turn back towards Swansea and the unappealing prospect of freezing wet tiedowns and ice-melt-dripping cover!

None of which managed to take the edge off an extremely beautiful day!

Snow…

…is both pretty and frustrating.

Had hoped to get plenty of flying in with the new engine, even with the post-Christmas finances, but instead managed rather a lot of coffee-and-breakfast while waiting for the runway to thaw.

The NOTAms would have been substantially shorted if they’d simply listed those airports that were open instead of the myiard closures too.

Neverthless me and Gwynn got briefly airborne long enough to admire the clear lines between the snowy and less so countryside and the Brecons were gorgeous as always.  Pen-y-Fan in the snow really striking.

We’re all still cooing over the aircraft performance too!

And not forgetting 2009 here’s the summary…

Adding up the logbook  gives: 20 jollies, 6 ferry flights, 31 hours, 9 new airfields.

Edited highlights in: Shape Collage

2009 Flying Highlights

adding up her logbook for 2009: 20 jollies, 6 ferry flights, 31 hours, 9 new airfields…adding up her logbook for 2009: 20 jollies, 6 ferry flights, 31 hours, 9 new airfields…

Burble and Whoop!

…I was not very coherent, through a massive grin as I finally finally took TOMS back into the air after the long-awaited, and much agonised over new engine.

Never mind the three-hour road trip to get there (although it was enlivened y Andy’s sporty-wheels and a parade of Christmas Bikers), never mind that I was 2nd then 3rd then 4th in a queue of 5 then 6 then 7 departing aircraft, never mind that there’s still bills to pay, and the fuel consumption is going to be murder during the running in period.BG

Right now, I was flying again and it was perfect.  Climbing like a skyrocket and everything right down to the newly oiled and no-longer-wrist-knackering fuel selector knob, was delightful.

I’ve run out of things to say about the run from Sleap to Swansea and vice versa…  The valleys and hills were still gorgeous, topped today by silky lenticular clouds, and decorated by long winter shadows that picked out every ground feature.

Had a strange moment thinking that London Info had developed ESP, when I changed to the frequency in time to hear the tail end of a message addressed to Tango Oscar Mike Sierra.  That turned out to be an M-TOMS from the Isle of Man and caused me a bit more thought than usually required when listening out!

Back at Swansea, our own G-TOMS rewarded my adoration and enthusiasm with a sweetly flattering landing.  (Though not before a certain amount of floundering trying to slow down from my full-speed-ahead, 75% power dash, which did feel ever so slightly headlong!)

I was most content indeed as I sorted out the tiedowns and ambled in.  We’re such lucky sods to be able to do this!

Getting there

Well the new engine is in and we’re just waiting on the radio annual and the weather before we can be back up in the air.

Hopefully I haven’t forgotten how to fly in the meantime.

Incidentally if anyone is reading in Swansea or thereabouts and wants a share in a lovely, and newly re-engined (;-)) tommyhawk, do get in touch, we’re looking to get the group back up to 8 again and there’s a share going!

Caernarfon (under my own steam for once)

Chitchat with other pilots seems to suggest we all have at least one airfield which it seems as though we’re simply not fated to get to.  For me it’s been Caernarfon.

Prior to the day’s flying it’d been put off in succession, by:

• Weather
• Weather
• Weather
• Dead starter (Though Brian and BIBT  took pity on me and I went as a passenger on that one)
• Weather
• Weather
• Someone else’s aeroplane rolling down the hill and bumping into ours
• Weather
• Babysitting due extremely pre-ETA arrival of second tiny nephew
• Weather

The past two weekends had also been alternately wet or gloriously sunny while I was otherwise tied up.

Finally, in desperation and suffering junkie-like withdrawal I dipped into my annual  leave from work and took a Tuesday afternoon off to go flying!

I made it down to the airfield by about half past one and chatted for while over other people’s tales of woe for once (Poor Cambrian have had a pranged Tommyhawk and a wrongly impounded Cessna on their hands this month!).

I also took the opportunity to get the local gen on the rather vague NOTAM about Work In Progress on the runways.  This turned out to mean sweeping and grass cutting (and with any luck weedkilling to get rid of the bizarre green slime that nearly has me on my backside every wet day I visit)

They’d picked a good day for working on the runways though as there was nil wind and all four possible directions were a viable option.

I got given 28 and headed off.  A quick call to check there was no objection to be turning against the circuit direction to get straight on track to the north and I was away.

There was a suggestion of haze in the air but the visibility was generally excellent and I burbled along happily mulling over a difference a month makes.

Next week TOMS will be disappearing into the hangar for annual and a new engine and a month or so ago, the prospective cost of same had managed to finally push me off the rackety edge of being able to afford this shared ownership game.  I’d made  the decision to give up the share, told the group, examined options for alternative flying, made myself a new sketchy budget and almost managed to get over a certain amount of wailing and childish self-pity.

I’d paid my subs to the end of September and, making the most of it, went along to several fly-ins, smiling and trying not to wince as people chatted about TOMS and shareoplanes and future flying.

And then I got an offer too good to refuse and was reminded all over again how very lucky GA pilots seem to be in their friends.

So, hanging on my the skin of my teeth and the generosity of my mates and still airborne over the glorious Welsh coastline I swerved around clouds and called it an excuse for practising steep turns and had to resist the urge to shout and sing nonsense.

Caernarfon was quiet-ish and I joined downwind after slipping past the mast and high ground to the south and convincing myself I’d never make a fastjet pilots — the sight of hills higher than wings makes me feel decidedly wary!

I fancied a nose round the museum while I was there, so dawdled only long enough to snag a drink and kitkat in the cafe before heading across where an extremely keen member of staff told me a bit about the museum and ushered me in to the glorious muddle of wings and tails and murals.

It’s pretty packed and I could have spent most of the afternoon there — if it wasn’t already mostly gone and rapidly cantering towards 4 o’clock.  Lots of the aircraft have open cockpits you can climb up in and there was a chap building a Bleriot in a corner of the hangar.  I absolutely must go back with (older) nephew in trail, he’d adore it!

Since I wanted to catch the refuellers back at Swansea (that was is becoming a ‘for once’ as well!) I headed back out to TOMS, pulling a face at the sight of my rather untidy parking.

Up anf off again and an easy run home with entertainment en route provided by a Hawk who flashed past underneath me, somewhere down in the weeds, rolled well on the way to inverted before hauling round into a valley and disappearing.

Better nerves than mine!

I just about snuck in for fuel with five minutes to spare and some more novel R/T from Swansea Radio: “Golf Mike Sierra, you’re lucky…”

The ’sweepers’ were making use of the airfield JCB to move our Tie Down Blocks of Doom back into position, just in time too!

I’m a dawdler over putting the aeroplane to bed, and the light was going by the time I ambled out and headed home.

Well worth snagging the leave for!

Days Out… LAA at Sywell and Flyer at Wellesbourne

A couple of days out recently, first of which was the (not-the) LAA Rally at Sywell. Fooling no one really, they were out in force! Over 600 aeroplanes all told, I gather.

I was along with the Youth and Education Support bit again, and although the wind and facilities prevented us setting up the techy toys, we did have a lot of interest in the Build-A-Plane (Speedy joined TSOB on the Saturday) and lots of kids pelting about in the pedal planes. I suspect we delayed rather a lot of parents, as we were set up right by the entrance / exit!

Even had a visit by a bride at one point – wedding reception at The Aviator and they apparently couldn’t miss the opportunity to get some pics out with the aircraft.

BBQ and hangar party to finish the day and the “Strictly Come LAA” dancing had to be seen!

I’d stuck up my tent behind the B@P bus, and kipped quite comfy.

Airside access had been a bit of a drama in the lead-up but common sense prevailed and it was lovely to see plenty of people wandering amid the aircraft. No one except the marshallers was yellow-jacketed and no one got mowed down by rouge props, so a result.

It was quite a sight on the Saturday afternoon at around 3.30, when the non-campers were starting to leave. I watched fascinated as almost 30 aircraft wound their way across the grass, taxying to depart. Impressive feat of organisation! Full marks to the marshallers and FISOs/ATCOs (not sure which but they did a cracking job!)

Second trip recently was a Flyer Forum “New PPL” fly-in at Wellesbourne Mountford, which neither me nor my fellow TOMS pilot, Malcolm, really had a good excuse to go to but which looked fun anyway!

The trouble with these things is always that far more people recognise me than I recognise, and indeed when I rang up for PPR, it was to a “Hello, Leia!” called over the shoulder of the person answering the phone as she repeated the registration – TOMS is, if anything, even more recognisable!

The weather for once in a way was absolutely perfect, and I had to revise my planning the opposite way to normal – from a detour around the hills back to a straight line!

I flew the outwards leg, and was extremely grateful for the extra pair of eyes on board as we were one of seven joining when we turned up. The slightly plaintive r/t from the aircraft behind us rather summed it up…

“Downwind, MANY ahead,”

Once again the FISO was well up to the job and astonishingly collected.

It turned out that the aircraft who taxyed in behind us was the Carlisle contingent of the group and we all piled over together, looking for a familiar face to formate on.

This was supplied superbly by Keef, as poor Craig who organised the whole thing had had to drop out at the last minute!

With the best flying weather in weeks, the cafe was packed with forumites and “normal” visitors alike, but lunch when it arrived was superb. We caught the end of Keef’s talk on flying abroad once we’d finished, then ambled over to the slightly startled Vulcan crew who’d expected the invasions somewhat earlier in the day.

Nevertheless they were very accommodating and welcoming to a small mob of pilots wanting to clamber up into their aircraft.

XM566 is very obviously an adored and pampered aircraft, the pride and affection in which she’s held by her supporters really shining through as they showed us around and answered a barrage of questions.

They were preparing for the annual open day and taxy runs the following day, which must be something to see. Definitely something to go back for. Since we were quite a large group this all took a while, and it was approaching time to head back again.

Malcolm was P1 on the homeward leg, so I spent most of the flight playing with the beta of “SkyAngel“. At least until the PDA battery coughed and died.

The shadows were already long by half past five as we squinted into the lowering sun – summer’s coming to an end again. Still it was mild and warm as we landed, just missing the refuellers, but in time to see the resident Strikemaster disporting itself over the field and bay.

Looks wonderful, but I’d not want his fuel bill!

The temptation to linger in the evening sun was strong, but eventually we wandered back, leaving the field to the last of the microlights still flying.

A few more nice September weekend would be favourite now!

More on the Flyer trip, with pics on the thread here.

Burned Children’s Club Flying Day 2009

Along with Project Propeller, the Burned Children’s Club Flying Day, at Bourn is one of my best excuses to get airborne!

Once again this year I was toting the chainmail making kit along and had also managed to kill quite a few evenings making up keyrings of the stuff for the youngsters to take away, since there was such a keen interest last year.

The weather forecast looked mixed all week and arrived wet but clearing on the Friday morning. I delayed a while for clearer skies then set up into patchy blue only to rapidly catch up with the retreating rain of the morning. The straight line over the hills was out so it was the usual skulk along the southwards route, crammed between the hills to the north and Cardiff’s control zone to the south.

The cloudbase was not actually all that low (the hills are very high!), but there were a lot of showers about and my head was on a swivel constantly checking left and right and especially behind to check I still have escape routes if it should threaten to close in on me.

Outside of the showers the visibility was really quite good making the flight rather strange and pretty. I could see the coast quite clearly, although separated from in by a veil of silvery rain, which streaked and shimmered the sky between. To the north, when the clouds parted I could see way up the valley to the high peaks of Brecon.

The cloud cleared up as I reached Newport and lower ground and I swung north to pick up something close to my planned track. Crossing the river into England just north of Gloucester I could see a line of rain which I suspected really was the rest of the morning’s downpours.

Shades of Project Propeller once again as I started trying to find a way around it, first south, then north, pressing eastwards where I could and hoping against hope not to find myself ending up diverting into Gloucester all over again.

I ticked off each landmark I reached, feeling gradually more hopeful. I bore cautiously north of Silverstone with its RA(T) for the Aerobatic World Championships though it was hard to imagine much twirlybatic flying going on in this.

Somewhere not long later it cleared up again, and stayed clear and pleasant for the rest of the trip.

Bourn was easy to spot, but trickier was picking out the current runway from the masses of disused tarmac. Traffic was pretty busy, but I still caught a “Hello, Leia,” on the radio!

Not quite oriented with the runways, I went for an overhead join to be certain, and was soon set up and ready to land. The excess of “old” tarmac fooled my eye once again and I ended making a rather low and flat approach to the threshold with cranes and bushes zipping past to left and right! Not my best approach ever, but down and taxying into to a wonderful warm welcome and lots of Flyer Forum-ish faces!

I see I've got the yoke well back on that tarmac...

Just in time for lunch too!

Quick bacon roll, then out with the chainmail gear, which had apparently been quite eagerly awaited to judge by the number of people who approached me as I set up.

It was nice to see some of the same kids back and their enthusiasm undimmed.

We had a very pleasant interruption to watch a display practice by a very attractive Pitts Special which taxyed in afterwards to great applause (I always forget what little aeroplanes they are!)

I’d found neon pipecleaners for the mail-demo this year and with typical creative they were subverted into a number of other decorations as well!

Aeroplanes and pipecleaners...

After the kids had been bussed off, the pilots soon fell to chitchat and comparing of aeroplanes and I got the twirl in Keith’s (or Keef’s in forumish) lovely Arrow which he’d offered me a fly of earlier in the week.

Keith most trustingly offered me the left-hand seat in the charmingly registered G-UTSY, even with my utter inexperience of complex aeroplanes and advised I treat it like a big Tomahawk. It was in fact a lovely well behaved aeroplane to fly, and I enjoyed it immensely. Rather more acceleration than a Tommy zipping down the runway, mind you! The speed picked up nicely and all was very comfortable. Nice going-places aeroplane. We did a turn around the circuit before slowing down (dangling the wheels helped!) and setting up for the approach. I did a slightly less dramatically low approach and was pretty pleased with the landing.

Nice aeroplane!

Pretty Arrer…

Cake was out by now and people were finishing up and starting to filter off home. Thoughts of encroaching weather were on people’s minds and I nipped on the computer in the office to have a quick squint. Similar to the rest of the day really – showers, but hopefully dodgeable ones. In any case there were plenty of alternative airfields en-route and with fuel sorted before leaving Bourn my only time limit was daylight. I had time in hand to detour as much as needed.

As it turned out the showery clouds had all collapsed into pretty, fluffy Cu, and I had a straight run home.

I’d once again leaned on the “on” switch of the GPS when stuffing in my bag on arrival so that coughed and died somewhere after Banbury, when I last looked at it and decided the groundspeed readout in the stonking headwind was too depressing to think about!

Two and a half hours it took, and I diverged from my course only to dodge Silverstone and look at a reservoir or two and a pretty ridge north of Neath…

Hmmm maybe I should just stop pretending to even try and fly in straight lines… What’s the hurry anyway When has the aim ever been to do less flying…

Pictures from the day are here and on the Flyer Forum

Waterford

A cancelled passenger meant an empty seat alongside Andy,  another of the TOMS mob, and as I very seldom turn down flying, I pounced on it.

Andy fancied somewhere new and suggested Ireland so Waterford became the plan.  Neither of us had been there before, and since my last sally across the Irish Sea was a last minute change of plan from France, with a pile of borrowed charts and flight guides, I left the outward-bound planning up to him!

Derek from the club lent us a PLB for the crossing of all that wet stuff and we made a timely get away almost spot on the 10AM claimed on the flight plan (which Andy had managed to submit through the shiny new AFPEX system that I’ve not got around to signing up for yet.)

Swansea opened the plan for us and Andy changed to London Info.  It seemed we’d chosen a good day to fly west.  The east and south of the country sounded like something of a maelstrom of microlights and light aircraft, all in the throes of recreating Bleirot’s flight across the channel on the hundredth anniversary of same.

I did not envy the London Info controllers at all.  The frequency was packed and there was a certain amount of muppetry going on with several callers apparently having got airborne in glorious happy ignorance of the massive NOTAMed TRA surrounding the event!

Attempt on Project Prop

One of my flying highlights from last year was taking part in Project Propeller, a fly-in event which pairs veteran aircrew with current GA pilots for a meet up somewhere of aviation interest.

This year was to be a second attempt on Bruntingthorpe (the firs having been largely weathered off a few years ago).  I’d been paired with a Port Talbot local who turned out to have been a flight engineer on Halifaxes, and heavily involved with the air cadets since.

We met up at the airport just as it opened, for a 10:45 slot time at “Brunty”.  Phil, my passenger for the day, insisted on helping untie the aircraft and accompanied me on the walkaround, and things did go much quicker – leaving us both time for a cuppa before the off!

The weather was looking decidedly mixed, but we set off in hope.  First hurdle became the Welsh hills, andI opted instead to skirt along the northern edge of Cardiff’s zone rather than chance the cumulus granitus on the direct route!

We passed near Gloucester and Phil did some flying, his most recent experience having been in a friends Baron.  TOMS was a shade less plush no doubt!

North west of Gloucester the vis started to go steadily downhill, as did the cloudbase.  I took back control and started looking for a clearer route.  Down to 1000′ I was unwilling to engage in any lower level skud running.

Another aircraft it seemed was having similar difficulties, and his problems were compounded by being unable to hear Gloucester.  Several aircraft, including me, relayed messages and when he switched t Leicester, the last we heard was that he was attempting to find an easterly route around the cloud.

I decided that this was possibly a plan for ourselves as well and for a while it seemed to work.  Still being pushed east but able to edge north here and there I made intermittent progress toward Wellesborne Mountford, at which point the wall of cloud became impenetrable.  At any rate for me and my non-IMC self and aircraft!

I tried a few more detours, hoping for a route, but ended up having to make a hasty 180 to keep us out of the clouds, at which point it was time to employ the better part of valour.

Still unable to spot Wellesborne, though we must have been almost on top of it, I decided instead to head for the known clear skies of Gloucester.

I hadn’t been in there since my QXC a few years ago, but it was as friendly and efficient as I remembered.  Also as pricey – at 21 quid for landing, just missing St Mary’s for my most expensive stop to date — but then again I suppose the staff doing the ‘friendly and efficient’ bit need their wages paid!

On a happier note the lunches were also as good, and I tucked into a enormous ham and cheese omelette while continuing the fascinating chat with Phil, including the relating of his first 20 minutes on a squadron which featured a burst tyre, a ground-looped Halifax and the crew member who’d warned him not to evacuate though the top hatch, pegging it via that exact route!

I made a couple of phone calls over coffee trying to establish the odds of succeeding on a second attempt if we could get an alternative slot time.  Sadly the weather seemed, for the moment to be settled on low cloud and even rain.

Most frustrating, especially since we were sitting in pleasant, patchy sunshine a mere 30-odd minutes flying time away!

Eventually it became clear it was a no-go this time, and I apologised to a philosophical passenger (“That’s flying!”) and we headed back out to the aircraft.

The flight home was uneventful, the cloud having lifted in this direction at least, and allowing us to take a more direct route over the hills, swinging south in time to take in Port Talbot and do the “my house” routine.

Back at Swansea we joined a busy-ish circuit with one Ikarus and the cadets motor-glider ahead of us.  I extended downwind a-ways to give them room, which gave me a usefully long final as the jump-plane nipped out onto the runway to take off from alpha without a backtrack.

I was still poised for a go around at fifty foot, but he cleared off in time and I landed and rolled on to the intersection.

All in all a pleasant day, if not entirely the one we had planned.  Here’s to better weather next year!

GPS Track: In so far as my decision making can be remembered it went something like…

1) Hmm, that’s rather a lot of cloud. Well we just heard someone else trying to get around it to the east so we’ll try that too.

2) That’s marginally better, back towards track.

3) Sod. More cloud. Let’s try east again. Ermm. Nope.

4) North then?

5) Nope. And now I need a 180 just to keep out of the cloud at all. Can’t spot Wellesborne either although I must be almost on top of it. Time to give in.

Camping, Cornwall and Cousin

For a while now I’ve been intending to take an overnight trip with Lauren, my cousin and most enthusiastic of my passengers!  We’d planned for Scotland, tying in with the Flyer Forum Glenforsa trip, but imminent lack of funds (diverted to TOMS’s engine needs!) meant that somewhere closer and cheaper was required.

Devon and Cornwall have more or less the perfect location from South Wales – you feel like you’ve “been somewhere” even though it’s not that far by air, and thus not too expensive, it’s sufficiently tedious by ground transport that flying gives you that smug satisfaction, and it’s littered with lovely spots, strips and “proper” airports all in happy proximity.