Very heavy overnight rain has washed away the snow. The airfield was shrouded in fog.
The morning highlights were 3 lectures delivered by Don Puttock on the effects of the approaching stall, the compass and an introduction to charts. These were seperated by tea breaks augmented with Sandra's superb carrot cake; very civilised.
After lunch, it was outside for some make and mend.
John Bolt worked with Roger and Barry Green to renew the ARC on their Astir.
Bob Jones, the club secretary, was wandering about with some strange looking implements clearing the runway drainage channels to ensure that the runway returns to flying condition at the earliest opportunity. He also repositioned the winch to the west end in preparation for Sunday's flying.
The sound of a hoover emanated from the clubhouse where Sandra was clearing up.
Rick and Matthew Wiles along with Simon Thornton did a sterling job of clearing all the gravel that had washed down onto the hangar apron. They even pressure washed the whole thing. Last seen Rick was looking very wet. Perhaps he should have realised the inevitable outcome of mixing a hose pipe, pressure washer and two teenagers.
Wednesday 13th January 2010
Doors open 8.45am. The airfield is shrouded in thick mist. A least the snow is starting to thaw.
Was this a wasted day. Not a bit of it.
Don Puttock delivered a lecture for the potential flying instructors on instructional techniques and the patter notes. Bob Pirie, who is also a very experienced instructor, augmented this interesting lecture / debate with his own observations and experiences.
Was this a wasted day. Not a bit of it.
Don Puttock delivered a lecture for the potential flying instructors on instructional techniques and the patter notes. Bob Pirie, who is also a very experienced instructor, augmented this interesting lecture / debate with his own observations and experiences.
Sunday 10th January 2010
With a very low cloudbase and light falling snow, even the keenest glider pilots could not make this a flying day.
Saturday 9th January 2010
8.30 am, blue sky, deep snow and a queue of cars waiting to enter the airfield. Ten minutes of frantic activity involving a rope and a landrover and all the cars parked near to the club house.
The airfield is covered in a deep layer of snow
Strong winds from the north east promised wave flying but despite valiant attempts by all the pilots no wave was found. Most pilots managed an extended circuit using the unstable airflow.
The view of the airfield amidst the winter wonderland made the day worthwhile.
The day finished in the club house with steaming cups of tea and a talk by our Cheif Flying Instructor, Don Puttock, on teaching circuit planning
A good day was had by all.
The airfield is covered in a deep layer of snow
Strong winds from the north east promised wave flying but despite valiant attempts by all the pilots no wave was found. Most pilots managed an extended circuit using the unstable airflow.
The day finished in the club house with steaming cups of tea and a talk by our Cheif Flying Instructor, Don Puttock, on teaching circuit planning
A good day was had by all.
Wednesday 6th January 2010
No flying today unfortunately. The snow prevented access to Dartmoor and the airfield.
Had to daydream about what could have been and cook the bacon sandwiches at home.
Had to daydream about what could have been and cook the bacon sandwiches at home.
Sunday 3rd January 2010
Very good day!
Early start today starting at 0800, with bacon sandwiches cooking away! 0830 the hangar doors were open and the kit was starting to be taken out of the hangar.
By 0930 when the low cloud cleared, Don Puttock took the first launch straight into wave with Mark Courtney and James Hood following behind. The maximum height being 'only' 3500ft. This fun was then turned into a heart beating moment as the wave gap started to close.
Martin Smith in his SF27 took a flight and stayed up for over 2 hours and got to 6000ft!
The wave stayed all day and everyone had fun in it.
The day ended with bacon sandwiches and steamy tea!
Early start today starting at 0800, with bacon sandwiches cooking away! 0830 the hangar doors were open and the kit was starting to be taken out of the hangar.
By 0930 when the low cloud cleared, Don Puttock took the first launch straight into wave with Mark Courtney and James Hood following behind. The maximum height being 'only' 3500ft. This fun was then turned into a heart beating moment as the wave gap started to close.
Martin Smith in his SF27 took a flight and stayed up for over 2 hours and got to 6000ft!
The wave stayed all day and everyone had fun in it.
The day ended with bacon sandwiches and steamy tea!
Saturday 2nd January 2010
The first flying day of the new year was greeted with blue skies, very light winds and a temperature that stayed near freezing all day.
The hangar doors were open at 8.30am in line with the clubs new year resolution to encourage early starts for the benefit of all club members.
There were plenty of members about to meet and welcome our new Chief Flying Instructor Don Puttock on his first flying day in his new post.
Although conditions were not soarable there was plenty of flying. Experienced pilots were maintaining their currency, the pre solo pilots continued with their training and a few pilots took some advanced training.
The most outstanding flight of the day must have been Sandra flying with Don. The pair managed to fit in 8 simulated cable breaks in one flight. Must be some kind of record.
Also worthy of note were Roger and Barry Green who both managed to get part of their Bronze "C" General Flying Test signed off.
The hangar doors were open at 8.30am in line with the clubs new year resolution to encourage early starts for the benefit of all club members.
There were plenty of members about to meet and welcome our new Chief Flying Instructor Don Puttock on his first flying day in his new post.
Although conditions were not soarable there was plenty of flying. Experienced pilots were maintaining their currency, the pre solo pilots continued with their training and a few pilots took some advanced training.
The most outstanding flight of the day must have been Sandra flying with Don. The pair managed to fit in 8 simulated cable breaks in one flight. Must be some kind of record.
Also worthy of note were Roger and Barry Green who both managed to get part of their Bronze "C" General Flying Test signed off.
My First Solo – Dave Rippon
I was first introduced to flying as a very young eight year old shortly after the war at an air display when I was given a flight in a De Havilland Rapide aeroplane. This excited me to such an extent that I have always yearned to learn to fly myself but unfortunately family life etc has always prohibited the very high cost involved.
Things changed however some sixty years later when as a birthday present I was given a series of trial lessons at the Dartmoor Gliding club based at Brentor.
After the first few flights with Alan my instructor the “bug” had really bitten. Then began the task of learning all the exercises necessary to ensure that a pilot could safely take charge of the aircraft. These included all the pre flight checks, take off and landing procedures aircraft controls etc. As training progressed the very necessary but sometimes tummy churning exercises including stall, spins and spiral turn recovery, all had to be learned and mastered.
In my advanced years this became quite a steep learning curve often making two steps forward and seemingly one step backwards. The subsequent training period was quite long and demanding but eventually it was felt that I had achieved the required degree of competency and all that remained was a suitable day with good weather.
One Wednesday morning in June, our normal flying day the weather was the usual summer weather, somewhat overcast with a moderate westerly wind. It did not bode well for flying but the airfield and aircraft were prepared for the day none the less
Several flights were made punctuated by some heavy blustery showers and by mid afternoon it was decided to suspend operations for the day. I made a request to Alan that I use the last launch to practice my cable break technique and land the aircraft back at the hanger. Somewhat reluctantly Alan agreed and I was sent to the K13 to prepare for the final flight.
Alan came to join me but instead of getting in to the cockpit he said that he had changed his mind due to an improvement in the weather and that he was going to send me solo. I was instructed to take off fly a normal circuit and then land back at the take off position. With that he said “away and enjoy your flight” and left me in the hands of the ground crew who were wiping the residual rain off the wings and canopy.
There was a moment of nervous excitement with butterflies in my tummy but once I commenced my pre flight checks these were soon dispelled.
The launch cable was connected to the aircraft and the take off run commenced. Due to the wind the take off roll was very short and the plane left the ground and rotated into the climb. My take off launch was very smooth thanks to the winch driver and I was soon climbing at a steady sixty knots at a climbing angle of some 45 degrees.
With frequent checks of air speed and height and the position of the wings against the horizon the ground rapidly dropped away. The fields became a patchwork pattern with little houses looking like a dolls house dotted around. This part of any flight is always very exhilarating but never more so than on this occasion. As I released the cable at the top I had achieved some 1400 feet above the ground and I trimmed the aircraft for cruising Speed of forty-five knots.
There were a few moments to look around; the air was like silk, smooth with a very clear light after the rain, it was so quiet and peaceful which is one of the joys of flying a glider without the noise of an engine. A band of fluffy cumulus clouds were around the horizon. Kit hill with its old chimney were clearly visible on the left together with the lower reaches of the Tamar and its two bridges. To the right Roadford reservoir was sparkling in the late afternoon sunlight though the north coast was hidden by cloud.
It was time to come back to reality and bank the aircraft for a turn to the right when Brentor church appeared under the starboard wing looking like a fairy castle on top of its rocky out crop. This turn took me over Blackdown and on towards the Tavistock road where several toy cars appeared to be making their way along the road. For a few minutes I was able to follow the old railway line north towards Lydford where the gorge was clearly outlined together with the church tower.Dartmoor looked dark and foreboding as the recent heavy shower had not yet cleared its western extremities. It was altogether an unforgettable moment.
A check on the altimeter showed that my height had dropped to under 1000 feet and it was time to make my left turn to re join the airfield. After a careful check for other aircraft I commenced my bank to turn around Brentor Village and back over the church to begin my landing circuit. At this stage it was necessary to adjust my speed to fifty-five knots on my down wind leg. There followed a series of banked right hand turns to bring me through my diagonal and then base leg onto my final approach. All the time I could hear Alan’s voice in the subconscious of my mind extolling me to check my speed and to ensure that I did not apply too much rudder.
I arrived on finals at an acceptable height with a clear view of the airstrip. Opening the air brakes I could then accurately control the rate of decent down to the round out point. I rounded out the dive just above the ground and held the aircraft in the air by gradually easing the control stick back until the speed had fallen sufficiently for the plane to sink gently back on to the grass and finish its ground roll.
I must admit at this stage I gave very satisfied little sigh followed by a big grin, which involuntarily spread over my face, Pam my wife would say it was my “smug look”. It was certainly a very exhilarating experience, which will be very difficult to repeat, and it certainly re paid all the hours of training.
My thanks must go to Alan my instructor for all the patience and encouragement that he gave during all those long hours.
Dave Rippon
Things changed however some sixty years later when as a birthday present I was given a series of trial lessons at the Dartmoor Gliding club based at Brentor.
After the first few flights with Alan my instructor the “bug” had really bitten. Then began the task of learning all the exercises necessary to ensure that a pilot could safely take charge of the aircraft. These included all the pre flight checks, take off and landing procedures aircraft controls etc. As training progressed the very necessary but sometimes tummy churning exercises including stall, spins and spiral turn recovery, all had to be learned and mastered.
In my advanced years this became quite a steep learning curve often making two steps forward and seemingly one step backwards. The subsequent training period was quite long and demanding but eventually it was felt that I had achieved the required degree of competency and all that remained was a suitable day with good weather.
One Wednesday morning in June, our normal flying day the weather was the usual summer weather, somewhat overcast with a moderate westerly wind. It did not bode well for flying but the airfield and aircraft were prepared for the day none the less
Several flights were made punctuated by some heavy blustery showers and by mid afternoon it was decided to suspend operations for the day. I made a request to Alan that I use the last launch to practice my cable break technique and land the aircraft back at the hanger. Somewhat reluctantly Alan agreed and I was sent to the K13 to prepare for the final flight.
Alan came to join me but instead of getting in to the cockpit he said that he had changed his mind due to an improvement in the weather and that he was going to send me solo. I was instructed to take off fly a normal circuit and then land back at the take off position. With that he said “away and enjoy your flight” and left me in the hands of the ground crew who were wiping the residual rain off the wings and canopy.
There was a moment of nervous excitement with butterflies in my tummy but once I commenced my pre flight checks these were soon dispelled.
The launch cable was connected to the aircraft and the take off run commenced. Due to the wind the take off roll was very short and the plane left the ground and rotated into the climb. My take off launch was very smooth thanks to the winch driver and I was soon climbing at a steady sixty knots at a climbing angle of some 45 degrees.
With frequent checks of air speed and height and the position of the wings against the horizon the ground rapidly dropped away. The fields became a patchwork pattern with little houses looking like a dolls house dotted around. This part of any flight is always very exhilarating but never more so than on this occasion. As I released the cable at the top I had achieved some 1400 feet above the ground and I trimmed the aircraft for cruising Speed of forty-five knots.
There were a few moments to look around; the air was like silk, smooth with a very clear light after the rain, it was so quiet and peaceful which is one of the joys of flying a glider without the noise of an engine. A band of fluffy cumulus clouds were around the horizon. Kit hill with its old chimney were clearly visible on the left together with the lower reaches of the Tamar and its two bridges. To the right Roadford reservoir was sparkling in the late afternoon sunlight though the north coast was hidden by cloud.
It was time to come back to reality and bank the aircraft for a turn to the right when Brentor church appeared under the starboard wing looking like a fairy castle on top of its rocky out crop. This turn took me over Blackdown and on towards the Tavistock road where several toy cars appeared to be making their way along the road. For a few minutes I was able to follow the old railway line north towards Lydford where the gorge was clearly outlined together with the church tower.Dartmoor looked dark and foreboding as the recent heavy shower had not yet cleared its western extremities. It was altogether an unforgettable moment.
A check on the altimeter showed that my height had dropped to under 1000 feet and it was time to make my left turn to re join the airfield. After a careful check for other aircraft I commenced my bank to turn around Brentor Village and back over the church to begin my landing circuit. At this stage it was necessary to adjust my speed to fifty-five knots on my down wind leg. There followed a series of banked right hand turns to bring me through my diagonal and then base leg onto my final approach. All the time I could hear Alan’s voice in the subconscious of my mind extolling me to check my speed and to ensure that I did not apply too much rudder.
I arrived on finals at an acceptable height with a clear view of the airstrip. Opening the air brakes I could then accurately control the rate of decent down to the round out point. I rounded out the dive just above the ground and held the aircraft in the air by gradually easing the control stick back until the speed had fallen sufficiently for the plane to sink gently back on to the grass and finish its ground roll.
I must admit at this stage I gave very satisfied little sigh followed by a big grin, which involuntarily spread over my face, Pam my wife would say it was my “smug look”. It was certainly a very exhilarating experience, which will be very difficult to repeat, and it certainly re paid all the hours of training.
My thanks must go to Alan my instructor for all the patience and encouragement that he gave during all those long hours.
Dave Rippon
THE GLIDER AND THE DUSTCART – Bob Jones
I had lost count of the number of people who told me how straightforward it was to fly from Brentor to North Hill.
“Go to Okehampton, turn right, get a couple of decent thermals and you’re there.”
Most of the comments were in that vein, but some were more tempered. “Try it, even if you don’t get there, a good field landing will give you more experience than just landing at another gliding site.”
The weather on 1st September 2004 looked reasonable and I decided to give it a go. From Brentor I coaxed the K6 to 1600 feet in weak lift and drifted towards Lydford. Consternation in heavy sink near Bridestowe turned to elation in three-up – North Hill was possible after all. Topping out at 2500 feet I headed north, but Meldon Quarry was in shadow, as was Okehampton straight ahead. The cumulus over Dartmoor had filled in and rags of low cloud were spilling off the high ground to blot out the sun.
At Okehampton there was no sign of thermals, decent or otherwise. At 2000 feet, I faced the possibility of landing out and started checking the fields. I saw some reasonable ones by North Tawton and was making for them when the vario twitched. Around I went, but in making 150 feet, lost the opportunity to land in the field I had selected. I pressed on hoping to find more lift, but a bout of three-down dispelled that idea and at 900 feet, I decided it was time to land. There was a large triangular field to the south and I edged towards it, giving it the 5C check-over.
Can I get in? – With 400 yards to play with I jolly well should.
Cattle? – Nope.
Cables? – Can’t see any.
Crops? – Just grass.
Check slope? – Slightly up to the west.
The slope meant the approach would have to be from the east with an undershoot full of cows – undesirable, whilst the overshoot was a dense wood – highly undesirable!
The field boundary was a stout hedge bank with a large oak in the near corner. Time for a last check as I started downwind, making sure not to get too cramped. A bit high on the downwind leg – the altimeter was on QFE, I extended using farm buildings as a reference to the field. Turning on to finals, I pulled full air brake but reduced it to half and easily cleared the hedge with the big oak fifty yards away. Rounding out early to allow for the up-slope, I held off, the tail swishing long grass. Then we were down, coming to a halt less than half way into the field.
I stopped the watch, set the switches to off and opened the canopy. I put the parachute on the wing but there wasn’t a breath of wind. After an hour in the air everything was still and quiet; all I could hear was a buzzard ‘mewing’ in the trees ahead. Well if it wasn’t soaring, perhaps I shouldn’t feel too bad about not staying up.
My call to Brentor on the mobile was answered by Jennipher Badcock’s dulcet tones. Martin Cropper and Brian Seedhouse agreed to do the retrieve and I gave them the map reference from the GPS, remembering to tell them there were maps in my car.
Now it was time to think about how to get the K6 out of the field. It was opposite a gate, but that was choked with brambles and clearly not in use. I walked back along the landing run to call at the farm and found another gateway, but that too was blocked. So far everything had gone well, but was access to the field now going to be a problem? I climbed over the hedge, jumped the ditch beside the road and headed for
the farm. It looked typical – a couple of broken down pick-ups, a rusting baler and an even rustier piece of machinery I could not identify. But the yard was tidy enough with bales of hay in the Dutch barn stacked to the roof.
Apart from the swallows ‘chittering’ overhead, the place was as quiet as the grave. And then I realised why -
the house wasn’t occupied. It was a working farm all right, but nobody lived there.I went back to the glider to get some water and an apple before exploring the far end of the field. In the corner I was pleased to find a wide gateway with not even a gate to bother about – great!
I went out to the road to wait for the retrieve. Overhead the cloud had begun to break and the buzzard was climbing in wide, lazy circles. As the afternoon got warmer I could think of nothing better to do than sit down on the verge, lean back and close my eyes.I had been like that for twenty minutes when I heard the sound of an engine.
Some two hundred yards down the road I could see a dustcart moving along slowly, the blokes in the cab were all craning their necks to peer over the hedge at the glider. I had gone back to relaxation mode when there was a commotion from the same direction. The dustcart was in much the same place as before but now it looked different – it was stationary and leaning at a drunken angle. Curiosity had got the better of the driver, who, whilst gawping at the tilted glider, managed to achieve a similar stance for his vehicle by dropping the nearside wheels into the gully!
I sat watching as the crew tried to extract it, but after five minutes they gave up and I saw the driver on his phone, presumably summoning assistance. It prompted me to call Martin and Brian to warn them the road to the south was blocked. They said it wasn’t a problem; they were coming from the north and would arrive in ten minutes.
“By the way,” said Brian, “your map is out of date.”
“I’m sure it can’t be that old,” I replied.
“Well, for a start it doesn’t show the A30 as a dual-carriageway!”
Old map or not, they arrived soon after and we manouvered the trailer into the field. Having polished off the remains of a cheese sandwich I had left in the car, we chocked up the trailer and started de-rigging the K6.
Out on the road, flashing amber lights heralded the arrival of a works truck to attend the disabled dustcart.
But we had other things to think of. First slide the port wing into the trailer and then the starboard. OK, now for the fuselage – easy does it, and finally the tailplane. Good, now all that’s left to do is make sure everything’s packed with the cushions.
“Why have you got so many cushions?” Martin had made it sound almost accusatory.
“Can’t have too much packing,” I replied. That sounds a bit weak in retrospect.
“Hmm, sometimes I wonder just what goes on in your trailer.”
Sad to relate, I could not think of a pithy response. Instead, I drew attention to the road nearby. The services of the works truck had failed to alleviate the situation of the distressed dustcart and some heavier assistance had been called upon. The response came in the form of a large breakdown recovery vehicle, adding yet more amber flashers to the scene.
We made a final check that everything was on board before closing the trailer. I towed it back across the field in the tyre tracks made earlier and paused in the gateway to make sure the road was clear. Well there certainly wouldn’t be anything coming up from the south for a while: not whilst the road was still blocked by a works truck, a heavy recovery vehicle and a drunken dustcart.
Back at Brentor there was time left to help Martin rig his Cirrus and get him airborne: then I was able to reflect on what had been an eventful day. Yes, my first attempt at a cross-country flight and the field landing had been a useful experience and what’s more, I enjoyed it.
Shame about the dustcart though!
Bob Jones
“Go to Okehampton, turn right, get a couple of decent thermals and you’re there.”
Most of the comments were in that vein, but some were more tempered. “Try it, even if you don’t get there, a good field landing will give you more experience than just landing at another gliding site.”
The weather on 1st September 2004 looked reasonable and I decided to give it a go. From Brentor I coaxed the K6 to 1600 feet in weak lift and drifted towards Lydford. Consternation in heavy sink near Bridestowe turned to elation in three-up – North Hill was possible after all. Topping out at 2500 feet I headed north, but Meldon Quarry was in shadow, as was Okehampton straight ahead. The cumulus over Dartmoor had filled in and rags of low cloud were spilling off the high ground to blot out the sun.
At Okehampton there was no sign of thermals, decent or otherwise. At 2000 feet, I faced the possibility of landing out and started checking the fields. I saw some reasonable ones by North Tawton and was making for them when the vario twitched. Around I went, but in making 150 feet, lost the opportunity to land in the field I had selected. I pressed on hoping to find more lift, but a bout of three-down dispelled that idea and at 900 feet, I decided it was time to land. There was a large triangular field to the south and I edged towards it, giving it the 5C check-over.
Can I get in? – With 400 yards to play with I jolly well should.
Cattle? – Nope.
Cables? – Can’t see any.
Crops? – Just grass.
Check slope? – Slightly up to the west.
The slope meant the approach would have to be from the east with an undershoot full of cows – undesirable, whilst the overshoot was a dense wood – highly undesirable!
The field boundary was a stout hedge bank with a large oak in the near corner. Time for a last check as I started downwind, making sure not to get too cramped. A bit high on the downwind leg – the altimeter was on QFE, I extended using farm buildings as a reference to the field. Turning on to finals, I pulled full air brake but reduced it to half and easily cleared the hedge with the big oak fifty yards away. Rounding out early to allow for the up-slope, I held off, the tail swishing long grass. Then we were down, coming to a halt less than half way into the field.
I stopped the watch, set the switches to off and opened the canopy. I put the parachute on the wing but there wasn’t a breath of wind. After an hour in the air everything was still and quiet; all I could hear was a buzzard ‘mewing’ in the trees ahead. Well if it wasn’t soaring, perhaps I shouldn’t feel too bad about not staying up.
My call to Brentor on the mobile was answered by Jennipher Badcock’s dulcet tones. Martin Cropper and Brian Seedhouse agreed to do the retrieve and I gave them the map reference from the GPS, remembering to tell them there were maps in my car.
Now it was time to think about how to get the K6 out of the field. It was opposite a gate, but that was choked with brambles and clearly not in use. I walked back along the landing run to call at the farm and found another gateway, but that too was blocked. So far everything had gone well, but was access to the field now going to be a problem? I climbed over the hedge, jumped the ditch beside the road and headed for
the farm. It looked typical – a couple of broken down pick-ups, a rusting baler and an even rustier piece of machinery I could not identify. But the yard was tidy enough with bales of hay in the Dutch barn stacked to the roof.
Apart from the swallows ‘chittering’ overhead, the place was as quiet as the grave. And then I realised why -
the house wasn’t occupied. It was a working farm all right, but nobody lived there.I went back to the glider to get some water and an apple before exploring the far end of the field. In the corner I was pleased to find a wide gateway with not even a gate to bother about – great!
I went out to the road to wait for the retrieve. Overhead the cloud had begun to break and the buzzard was climbing in wide, lazy circles. As the afternoon got warmer I could think of nothing better to do than sit down on the verge, lean back and close my eyes.I had been like that for twenty minutes when I heard the sound of an engine.
Some two hundred yards down the road I could see a dustcart moving along slowly, the blokes in the cab were all craning their necks to peer over the hedge at the glider. I had gone back to relaxation mode when there was a commotion from the same direction. The dustcart was in much the same place as before but now it looked different – it was stationary and leaning at a drunken angle. Curiosity had got the better of the driver, who, whilst gawping at the tilted glider, managed to achieve a similar stance for his vehicle by dropping the nearside wheels into the gully!
I sat watching as the crew tried to extract it, but after five minutes they gave up and I saw the driver on his phone, presumably summoning assistance. It prompted me to call Martin and Brian to warn them the road to the south was blocked. They said it wasn’t a problem; they were coming from the north and would arrive in ten minutes.
“By the way,” said Brian, “your map is out of date.”
“I’m sure it can’t be that old,” I replied.
“Well, for a start it doesn’t show the A30 as a dual-carriageway!”
Old map or not, they arrived soon after and we manouvered the trailer into the field. Having polished off the remains of a cheese sandwich I had left in the car, we chocked up the trailer and started de-rigging the K6.
Out on the road, flashing amber lights heralded the arrival of a works truck to attend the disabled dustcart.
But we had other things to think of. First slide the port wing into the trailer and then the starboard. OK, now for the fuselage – easy does it, and finally the tailplane. Good, now all that’s left to do is make sure everything’s packed with the cushions.
“Why have you got so many cushions?” Martin had made it sound almost accusatory.
“Can’t have too much packing,” I replied. That sounds a bit weak in retrospect.
“Hmm, sometimes I wonder just what goes on in your trailer.”
Sad to relate, I could not think of a pithy response. Instead, I drew attention to the road nearby. The services of the works truck had failed to alleviate the situation of the distressed dustcart and some heavier assistance had been called upon. The response came in the form of a large breakdown recovery vehicle, adding yet more amber flashers to the scene.
We made a final check that everything was on board before closing the trailer. I towed it back across the field in the tyre tracks made earlier and paused in the gateway to make sure the road was clear. Well there certainly wouldn’t be anything coming up from the south for a while: not whilst the road was still blocked by a works truck, a heavy recovery vehicle and a drunken dustcart.
Back at Brentor there was time left to help Martin rig his Cirrus and get him airborne: then I was able to reflect on what had been an eventful day. Yes, my first attempt at a cross-country flight and the field landing had been a useful experience and what’s more, I enjoyed it.
Shame about the dustcart though!
Bob Jones
What an Amazing Day–Gavin Short
The weather forecast for Dartmoor wasn't very optimistic and there were puddles by the hangar following the heavy overnight rain. Not promising. But the blue turned into Cumulus and then started streeting from the West at 12 Knots.
I launched just before 1pm and got away from an unimpressive 1150' launch. I climbed and then followed the street downwind across Dartmoor. It got better near cloud base at 2,500' QFE (3,350 QNH) and I pushed on. Trevor Taylor in the Jantar 1 who was 600' below me on the way towards Princetown encouraged me, not verbally for once, but just by his presence.
I was well in the groove when a challenge came in sight. Some quick maths and then I dived out into the blue and turned the radio mast at Princetown, some 600' above its top, for the very first time - 5.6 Nautical miles from base, downwind at 2,050' QFE. It focused the mind especially as the crags come up to meet you on the way back. A horrible thought crossed my mind; what if they come up so high that they obscure the
glide path back to Brentor?
A good bit of dolphining and concentration and all was fine. Once over the site and relaxed I pushed on into wind and headed to Launceston in the other direction for about the same distance.
I turned back level with Lifton. Roadford Lake looked very beautiful in the winter's light. I returned to the airfield and burnt off height with various stalls and sideslips to keep in practice.
I gave my syndicate partner a go after an hour or so in the air but I could have stayed up for at least another hour (like the Jantar 1 did) just exploring the streets; but Martin and I were on a schedule that involved a reporter and photographer (but that's another story - or twelve) and he needed a go before they arrived at the airfield.
I certainly felt I had pushed the boundaries that day - encouraged by Trevor in the Jantar 1 below - he later admitted that he was ridge soaring as the ground rose up to meet us!
Gavin Short
I launched just before 1pm and got away from an unimpressive 1150' launch. I climbed and then followed the street downwind across Dartmoor. It got better near cloud base at 2,500' QFE (3,350 QNH) and I pushed on. Trevor Taylor in the Jantar 1 who was 600' below me on the way towards Princetown encouraged me, not verbally for once, but just by his presence.
I was well in the groove when a challenge came in sight. Some quick maths and then I dived out into the blue and turned the radio mast at Princetown, some 600' above its top, for the very first time - 5.6 Nautical miles from base, downwind at 2,050' QFE. It focused the mind especially as the crags come up to meet you on the way back. A horrible thought crossed my mind; what if they come up so high that they obscure the
glide path back to Brentor?
A good bit of dolphining and concentration and all was fine. Once over the site and relaxed I pushed on into wind and headed to Launceston in the other direction for about the same distance.
I turned back level with Lifton. Roadford Lake looked very beautiful in the winter's light. I returned to the airfield and burnt off height with various stalls and sideslips to keep in practice.
I gave my syndicate partner a go after an hour or so in the air but I could have stayed up for at least another hour (like the Jantar 1 did) just exploring the streets; but Martin and I were on a schedule that involved a reporter and photographer (but that's another story - or twelve) and he needed a go before they arrived at the airfield.
I certainly felt I had pushed the boundaries that day - encouraged by Trevor in the Jantar 1 below - he later admitted that he was ridge soaring as the ground rose up to meet us!
Gavin Short
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