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.

Shafted…

Horrible pun, but it’s laugh or cry time so it’s staying!

The good news is that all the current niggles with our engine are resolved and we’re back on 50 hour checks.  The bad news is that the metal in the filter which had taken us off them turns out to have been coming from the camshaft, which is now so worn that the engine will not pass another annual.

We sort of knew we were coming to a decision point in the next year or so when the hours ran out, but didn’t expect it this soon!  Several other bits are also approaching their ‘lifetime’ and the whole engine only has about a years worth of hours left at our current flying rate so it’s not really worth spending the rather large amount of money to replace the camshaft.

This leaves us without a huge number of options.

For what we’d have to spend on an engine we might get another aircraft — but probably only one of similar age and condition with possibly similar problems and without the benefit of knowing the service history and money that’s already been paid out like we do with TOMS.

We could walk away and find other groups, but we all get on so well and the running of the group works so smoothly, and our flying patterns fit together so nicely, nobody really wants to lose that.

We could go fly rental aircraft (and having worked out the maintenance cost this year we’d have saved money doing that), but most of us are too fond of dawdling over coffee and cake to willingly go back to being tied to someone else’s schedule .

Or we take the plunge and buy a new engine.  To everyone’s slight surprise, this was the favoured option.  Almost all of us thought that everyone else would rather give up on the aircraft and look elsewhere.  Perhaps we’re more emotionally invested in TOMSyplane than we thought!

Only one person who hadn’t been able to fly much, decided to call it a day, and a some of us still have little-to-no clue where the money’s going to come from, but assuming we can find it, we’re in.  Probably we’ll look at taking on another share or two to spread the cost.  Can’t be that bad a deal — essentially they’d be buying into an aircraft with a shiny new engine.

On a happier note, the aircraft was ready to be picked up, and I once again found myself the willing ferry pilot.

Sleap was busy and the sky blue once again as I set off on the return journey.  I’d forgotten the GPS, today but the route was simple, apart from a slight detour around the rather large clouds over hills surrounding the Elan Valley, which I detoured around.

I do adore flying over the hills, and intend to make the absolute most of all my flying with such a ticking clock on the horizon!  I was already mentally scaling back a few longer trips this summer, both for finance and because it didn’t seem fair to use up such a large proportion of our remaining hours.

But for now the sky was blue, the wind was with me and there wasn’t another aircraft in sight.  Pretty day.

Horse before cart…

Along with what must surely be a world record for number of starting issues on one aircraft, we have now topped it off by having to have the aircraft repaired in order to actually fly it to the the 50 hour check!

No one else had managed to start the poor thing since my abortive attempt on Caernarfon and after trying a few things, including cleaning the primer jets and a complete new set of spark plugs it was finally reported as starting normally again.

Admitting to only a slight trace of doubt, I therefore voluntered to do the ferry run to our new engineer at Sleap.  (Caernarfon would have been the last flight before the 50 anyway.)

My doubts were washed away as the prop flicked over, once, twice to fire and catch on the third blade with no fuss at all.

Filled with relief, made the more pleasant by the cloudless sky, I taxyed out to the PAPI lights to await my turn at the ski jump that passes for runway 10.

I hadn”t been to Sleap before, and had dutifully read to NOTAMS (to discover an aeros competition in progress!) and got myself briefed, drawn my lines on my charts and copied across to PocketFMS, charged the PDA and was ready to go.

It was fabulous to be up in the air again, and I felt quite the scrounger for knowing it was a freebie on the group for the engineer run!  The railway below wound up the valley, acting as an easy guide for the first leg, as well as a useful line feature to keeping clear of the Sennybridge danger area.

It was nice to settle into the routine of navigation again too, so many trips lately have been to familiar destinations.  I was enjoying the challenge of spotting new landmarks, and for the most part resisted the temptation to gaze at the GPS (I did double check Llandeilo was really Llandeilo…)

Overcome by the novelty of cloudless skies, and aware of the limited options for landings on the lumpy hills below, I stooged on up to 6000′ leaned well and gazed around most happily, not that I clapped eyes on another aircraft.

London Info was heaving and I decided I really didn’t need them badly enough to do battle trying to jam a word in edgeways, so I jumped straight to Welshpool early and turned the radio down until I got close enough to be worth warning them of my presence.

All that high, quiet sunshine went some way to erasing the frustration of the previous month.

Sleap itself crept up on me while I was mulling over how exactly to sort myself out to join right-downwind for a 05 runway while approaching from the south west…  And do so without passing through the deadside — that’s where the upside down aeroplanes were to be found…

I was still blithely staring at Shawbury in the middle distance, in blissful ignorance, when during a scan for traffic I spotted the actual airfield dead ahead!

Shaking my head with a sheepish expression there was happily no one to see, I repositioned myself for an awkward little U-turn outside the ATZ for that downwind join.

Still dithering over that or the whole not-spotting-the-place thing, I missed the QFE and didn’t remember until shortish final, at which point I realised I hadn’t looked at the altimeter since downwind anyway.

With someone close behind I’d kept it tight and somewhat misjudged the crosswind, leading to a gentle but untidy and decidedly off-centre landing.

I decided to be generous and put it down to rustiness along with the missed QFE and late sighting of the airfield!

With the following aircraft now on final, I bailed off the runway at the end to let him land, before taxying back at the length of the airfield to the maintenance hangar, guided by the extremely helpful air/ground operator (a UKGAer I later discovered) — I’d never had found it otherwise!

With impeccable timing, Andy, the other half of today’s G-TOMS Ferry Team had just arrived after trolling the length of mid-Wales in the car to retrieve me.

We pushed TOMS into a tidy corner, introduced ourselves to the engineer and turned over keys and logbooks before heading for lunch.

The cafe was lovely, up in the tower with fabulous airfield views over the neat rows of tiny and brightly coloured aerobatics types awaiting their turn at the tumbling, twisting performances overhead.

Lovely airfield, one to return to when not under the duress of a aircraft check!

Caernarfon and more woes

Having been thwarted in my attempt to fly to the Bourne Bacon Butty event (turned up to find people landing on the disused because the crosswind had become so bad on the other two runways and thought it a bit rash to take off into that…) I’d only managed to scrounge up a quick fly round Gower in the past few weeks.

Caernarfon and the LAA North Wales Strut Fly-in was the excuse this time.  I’ve never had much luck with Caernarfon — weather having stopped all previous attempts.  Today, with broken cloud at 2500′ and a brisk breeze seemed more doable.  I bumped into one of the UKGAers Bryan on the apron — one of those odd face-to-name moments!

I uncovered and untied TOMS and collapsed the pushbike and manhandled it into the back with relatively little difficulty.

Checks okay, but then came the but.

We’ve been having intermittent starting problems for a while now, and I’ve been one of the luckier ones, avoiding the worse of it but today it was my turn to get bitten.

The prop thwapped over willingly enough but there was not firing happening.  I tried a couple of the more obvious things — waiting a while for things to cool, flooded start procedure, peering under the cowling for anything conspicuous I might have missed on the walkaround, but no joy.  After some head scratching I enlisted Derek from the Cambrian club who’d been having starting issues with one of there Tomahawks and who offered a jump.  Still nothing, so Bryan kindly offered one of the empty seats in his AA5 Tiger for the run up to Caernarfon.

I jumped at this way out of a sulky return home!

Fretting about the latest tech problem aside (our poor aircraft seems to have reached A Certain Age), it was quite pleasant to be a passenger for a while, I gazed out of the window, snapped piccys, and was quite content.

The cloud stayed high enough, just about, though the extremely large hills were very conspicuous, as was the massively tall mast just south of Caernarfon itself.

There wasn’t a vast amount of traffic but even so we managed to get behind someone on a lloonnggg slooowww backtrack and had to go around from the first attempt.  Caernarfon’s runway layout does tend to lead to this, and they have a procedure for backtracking aircraft which didn’t quite work this time.

Still we had another look round the hills and beach on a second circuit.  It really is a lovely spot.

On the ground there were some nice aircraft, a packed and shiny new cafe and a decent dinner to be had.  We didn’t go in the museum, I mentally added that for another day.

Nice spot, very welcoming, lots to see — not much more you could ask for from a GA field really!

If it’s not one thing…

Once again we were faced with trying to get TOMS home from the engineer.  With everyone busy, few opportunities presented themselves until a rather unsettled Saturday afternoon.

This meant a belt down to Devon from Cardiff, followed by a flight home, dodging the showers before confronting a gusty crosswind landing back at Swansea.

I surveyed the met reports very solemnly indeed.  Ending up at Dunkeswell after a 2 hour or more drive only to find it was too bad to come home would be no fun at all.

The visibility was excellent and the showers looked likely to be easy to dodge.  I ticked that point off and stared at the wind.  60 degrees off the closest runway heading at Swansea, at 20knots. 

Matters were simpler at Dunkeswell where it was a mere 20 degrees off one of their shorter runways.

I did question whether it was hubris developing but I felt, if not happy, at least content, with that.  It had been a flustery, windy winter and I was in more current crosswind practice than I’d been since relocating from Pembrey with it’s single runway.

It was close to the windest weather I’d flown in but not quite there and I decided to go.

Of course nothing with aeroplanes if ever simple, and after the troll down by car, we arrived to find the carb heat cable fixed, but the park brake broken.  A certain amount of wailing and gnashing of teeth ensued before some help from one of the airfield staff got us out of the tight parking space behind at hangar, refueled and ready to go again.

A phone call to Swansea to double check the weather resulted in a bizarrely protracted conversation with one of our air-ground staff who seemed intent on dissuading me from making the flight.

Not sure whether it was misplaced concern for my wellbeing or misplaced dreams of authority, though I’d like to be generaous and say the former.

In either case, I was already fully aware of the headwind en-route and the crosswind and the gusts I could expect on arrival, and could have done without the repeated pointed references to same.

It wasn’t as though I hadn’t already run it through my decision making three times already.  Once before leaving home, again on arrival at Dunkeswell and again two minutes ago as I prepared the aeroplane.

In any case if push really came to shove, there was hours of daylight and both Haverfordwest and Cardiff had more into wind runways if I arrived at Swansea and decided I didn’t like it after all.

Feeling irritated at having to justify myself, and not wanting to take my annoyance into the air where it would be a distraction, I refocussed on my checks and taxyed out to the far end of the airfield.

A few people were up and flying including some very intrepid parachutists — I think that’s about where Id draw the line in this wind!

TOMS leapt into the air quickly, and I settled down for what would probably be a slightly longer trip than usual in the northerly wind.

The visibility was even more outstanding from the air.  Almost disorientingly so — you saw landmarks before you expected to see them and then took ages to reach them!

I had to dodge fewer showers than I expected, though I saw plenty of them in the near distance, and one scattered a stunning rainbow around my right wing.

Hubris again maybe, but this was such a familiar route I barely looked at chart, or GPS except for interest to see how well the ground speed matched my guess.  About 20 knots less than the airspeed, and I decided to stick at 2000′ instead of go higher where it would be stronger still.

I didn’t bother with Cardiff’s “basic service” today and switched Straight to Swansea from Dunkeswell, enjoying the peace and quiet.  In spite of the freezing wind outside, the sun through the perspex was warm and comfortable.

An Aztec inbound to Swansea was the only other traffic about, landing a few minutes before I joined.

04 was the closest runway to the north-north-easterly wind, a nice runway to use if you are stuck with a crosswind.  Lots of space.

In the absence of other traffic I joined straight in, keeping an extra five knots of speed and one stage of flap on as I approached.

Concentrating more on keeping the approach stable in the promised gusts, I replied rather vaguely to air-ground’s query on my position.

“Long-err-ish final 04″

“Roger,” came a dry reply.  “Would you like the QFE-ish,”

I rolled my eyes.   Bet that visiting twin wasn’t subjected to wit on the r/t

“Affirm,” I said, though really I was more interested in looking out the window than a precise height by now.

The wind information followed, and had dropped to 15knots.  In spite of which, I still managed a less-than elegant touchdown.  I didn’t manage to quite get all the drift off as yawed the nose round, resulting in an indignant TOMS trying to make a break for the edge of the runway.

Quickly back on the centreline to roll out, and vacated to head back to parking.  No fuel to be had this weekend, so straight to the tiedowns to do battle with the cover — the wind seeming to pick up the moment I started trying to get the thing on!

I headed home feeling rather more relieved than anything — I like the run to Dunkeswell, but I’m getting heartily sick of constant mechanical problems with the aeroplane.  Surely there must come a point where everything that can go wrong, already has…

My gripes were unfortunately put into stark perspective the following day when one of the airfield regulars, who’d given me a jolly on one occasion, had an accident in a R44, resulting in it turning over.

Here’s hoping for a speedy recovery to all.