B.Umble flys again-part one. 

After a most enjoyable 21 months as an ‘L Driver’ being taught the rudiments of Microlight Flying by the CFI at Stoke-the Banana Strip because it is bent-I was issued with a piece of paper allowing me to take to the skies as and when I chose. The problem with this arrangement was simple; I needed something in which to fly, in other words an aeroplane of my own or possibly a share in one.
This is not as simple to arrange as one might first think.

There were a number of aircraft for sale on the Banana Strip and elsewhere, vaguely for sale in some cases, definitely for sale in other cases but most of these aircraft caused the pundits on the airfield to draw in their breath and go into tut-tutting mode. I had never realised that so many things could be wrong with a flying machine and that it could and still did, demonstrably fly.

The lists of faults were endless but these lists did directly take into consideration the asking price. ‘You’ll have to spend another £3000/£4000 on it before it’ll be half way near to getting a Permit (to fly)’. ‘Another engine will be needed by the end of the summer and new nuts and bolts’. ‘Don’t touch it-bad build quality’ was another favourite expression made by the pundits. The one I liked best, mainly because it had the ring of an old country adage was ‘New Skins afore Christmas-never been covered you see’. The latter was on a par with the adage that says ‘Red sky at night-Shepherds delight- Red sky in the morning–Rochester’s burning’. The ‘never been covered you see’ had me worried to an extent because I did not see, or if I did, I did not want to see but I had a ‘friend’ in the person of the CFI, Chris Childs. We had an arrangement. I would not buy anything without him first vetting it thoroughly and advising me accordingly.

We settled upon an aircraft at the Banana Strip, which was definitely for sale but at a ridiculously high price considering all the work that would be needed to bring it back into flying condition. Chris Childs had made a long list of all it’s shortcomings and had roughly costed-out the expenditure needed for the re-issue of a Permit to Fly. Chris then went into exploratory negotiations on my behalf with the owner. I did not get an immediate negative or positive response at the time of the initial telephone call made by Chris, as the vendor would ‘think about it’-fair enough-why not? We were, after all, making a firm offer but somewhat less than his original asking price but we also were prepared to negotiate.

I believe the negotiations continued for a few days and then, suddenly, it was sold to another party at an undisclosed sum believed to have been slightly lower than our original offer. I have discovered since, that the sale of any aircraft leads to a strange phenomenon called ‘The Gap’. If one speaks to the new owner, he will tell you that he ‘got it for a song’ usually quoting the final purchase price paid. If you speak to the original owner he will tell you that he was more than pleased to have ‘sold it at the original asking price’ then quoting that price. A quick mental calculation then gives one ‘The Gap’ and a further calculation averaging out the difference between the two claimed sums will probably give a truer picture of the amount that actually changed hands.

In view of Chris’s assessment of the aircraft involved in my would be purchase I was not in the least bit concerned at having been beaten at the post by a ‘lower’ bid as I was still in the ‘wondering if I wanted all the hassle that seems, to a casual observer and a rank beginner such as me, to accompany the ownership of even a Microlight aircraft’.

There had to be another way. I could of course buy a ‘kit’ and build my own Microlight but I sensibly decided that my construction skills would not be sufficient to open the boxes in which any ‘kit’ would surely arrive. My last major construction had been the building of a chicken run using copious quantities of wire netting and tall posts to create a fence over which the chickens could not fly. All materials had been supplied on that occasion too. I had concentrated on the height aspect of the fence and had succeeded, in my opinion, and was even a little proud of the finished enclosure. There was one aspect however to which I had given little thought at the time and that was the height of the wire at ground level. Suffice to say that the chickens met an early end at the hands, or in this case, the teeth of the local fox that had found that entry into the enclosure was simple; just push in under the wire. The hen house was shut each evening of course, after ‘chicken curfew’, but human error would and did cause a tragedy. It happened the night everyone else thought that everyone else had closed the hen house. This was my last construction project, which served as a salutary lesson particularly as we spent the next few weeks eating nothing but chicken.
What chance would I have if I embarked upon the building of an aircraft? I certainly would not wish to fly in it even if it reached completion.

Another alternative would be to keep my eye open for a place in a syndicate but I would probably have difficulty in finding one that would accept me. I was, after all, a beginner and a septuagenarian, or very nearly so at that time.

I had always assumed during my training that I would not fly beyond my licence. I never embarked upon the course with a view to gaining a licence and had prolonged the duration as far as possible but in the end I had, had to submit to the pressures placed upon me by various CFI’s and instructors. I had a licence but could not use it.
I had left the Banana Strip for the ‘last time’ the day my licence had arrived in the post yet here I was a week or two later trying to buy an aeroplane-sheer lunacy!

AN OFFER WAS MADE, an offer backed by Chris Childs, with certain reservations, as a reasonable alternative course of action and an answer to my quest for further flying.
We walked out to an X-Air, which had been based at the Banana Strip for some time and had fairly recently been purchased by Medway Microlights in the person of Mrs Draper, the now registered owner.

Mrs Draper was, at the time, approaching the GFT stage of her training. In order to defray costs of running her new found ‘toy’ she was prepared to set up a syndicate made up of four or five ‘new’ pilots including her. Would I like to consider the offer as a feasible alternative to building or buying my own aircraft?

Chris Childs conducted me around the aircraft and suggested I made an attempt to get into it. I say ‘attempt’ because the one thing I had found in training was that all Microlight aircraft appeared to have been designed to give anyone of slightly more than ample stature (circularly over challenged?) a very hard time when mounting up. After a number of attempts I finally made it into the cockpit, sweat pouring from my brow. What a struggle!

To my surprise Chris then climbed in beside me and suggested a ‘start up’ and a bit of a ‘fly round’ on the grounds that it would be a great shame to waste all my previously expended energy in gaining entry.

I found once in and seated that the X-Air was reasonably roomy although the seat belt harness would not stretch sufficiently to encircle my waste band. Some few minutes later the ever-resourceful Chris and a pair of scissors had solved the problem. I did not ask!

The short gap caused by Chris’s departure in search of a suitable cutting implement and his return had allowed me to find all the taps and switches within the confines of the cockpit and having no restraint about my person I had found and read the fuel gauge, something I find difficult in the air for I do tend to spread sideways across the cockpit. We would, I judged, have enough fuel for at least one hour should I accept his offer of a ‘start up and fly round’ for he was now fully into his easily recognisable ‘sales mode’.

After a short conversation and a few checks and a loud shout of ‘contact’ and another shout of ‘clear prop’ I pressed the button and the engine started.

Fortunately we had been facing outwards from the railway fence because I had discovered how to start the X-Air and would be able to taxy it, I thought, for we were already moving slowly forward. What I had not done was to find out how to stop it. It never occurred to me to have any worries on this relatively minor detail because the CFI was with me and he had often, during my training days, had to apply brakes to save us from a collective catastrophe and he would obviously do so now.
‘Where are you going?’ he asked rather sharply, I thought.
‘Nowhere really’ I replied for I had no control over the situation beyond switching off the engine.
‘Stop!’ he said.
‘How?’ I said.
‘Use the brakes!’
‘Where the hell are they?’ I asked, as we meandered slowly across and down the slight incline of the runway at that point.

It transpired that each rudder pedal had an extension to its top most part, which if pushed by ones toes, applied the brakes differentially, or as one. Same as my tractor I reflected.
I felt quite aggrieved and said so.
‘You have rudder pedals you push your brakes’ I said.
‘Don’t have any on my side’ said Chris.
‘No brakes on this side’ he repeated.
He grabbed the throttle and propelled us across the runway and into safety. On the taxy track I was able to locate the braking system and how best to use it and anyway it is ‘uphill’ at that point.
I taxyed along the track and back tracked along the runway for a take off on ‘06’ swung round through 180º and stopped on the numbers ready to go.

‘You will find it slow to gain height today as there is very little wind to help and the prop is a bit too coarse for my liking’ said Chris, and ‘Extend your ‘abort point’ by a few yards too’ he added.
One final check around the flight deck, the usual feeling of apprehension and we were away, gathering speed very nicely I thought.

By the time we had reached a height of 500 feet we had covered a fair amount of ground, so much so that Chris reminded me not to fly directly over the new gas tanks just short of the estuary coastline. At one stage I wondered if we would be in a position to clear them at all if I was to stay on this particular heading. Chris was not in the least perturbed. My perturbation had started earlier when I realised that the faces staring up at us as we slid over the clubhouse and hangar were registering many emotions from mild enquiry to deep fear. I was not impressed either to see some persons ‘making a run for it!’ I challenged some of the ‘runaways’ later and they all claimed to have had ‘urgent business elsewhere’- Where- over the seawall?
‘Told you it was a bit slow on the climb’ said Chris. ‘Set her up well and you get a very good cruise speed though’ he added.
For the second time within the past hour the perspiration was pouring from every pore.
I settled down to flying the aeroplane in an orderly manner and quite some minutes later we had reached at least 995 feet, heady stuff in deed.

We tried a few gentle manoeuvres just to ‘get the feel’ of the controls and general flying characteristics all carried out over the familiar marshes training area. All went splendidly and I had become totally relaxed and in control-more or less.

The Banana Strip came into view and an overhead join was made from a height of about 1300 feet-we had tried for 1500 feet but there was not enough time left in the day to achieve this height. We flew the down wind leg for runway ‘06’.

I was really enjoying this flight although I had reservations about the X-Air’s abilities, or lack of them, in the climbing department. My reservations could wait till later, all I had to do at this moment in time was a landing and after landing see if I could dismount without too much of a problem, book out if Chris had not remembered to do so earlier and book in now, have a cuppa and go home to think about the offer.

Short finals and everything was going very well, in my opinion. My judgement was based on the fact that there was nothing but silence from the right hand seat and a complete lack of fidgeting from Chris. I had learned over the training period that when he fidgeted on finals one was making or was about to make a right mess of the landing.

Today his fidgets were under control; his nervous tic was not in evidence, so all was obviously well.
We touched down at a fairly high ground speed due to the lack of a restraining head wind of any consequence and were rolling down the runway. I decided that a little bit of rudder/nose wheel steering was required to negotiate the ‘elbow’ and gently applied right rudder.
‘Where are you going-where are you going?’ I was asked in less than polite terms.
I noticed that the right hand seat occupant had now become super animated. It was not so much a fidget more a full flail of all four limbs.

The explanation was simple. I had managed, totally inadvertently, to apply differential braking when applying the necessary rudder. Chris was not amused as we lurched towards the seawall over to our right, for we had suffered several previous instances of this ‘rudder phenomenon’ both in the Thruster and the AX-3 during training when one or other of my feet had become jammed behind or between the pedals causing brief moments of concern. This particular incident was for a slightly different reason but the result was identical. After the first couple of scares in the Thruster or AX-3 I had found more appropriate footwear for flying and always made sure that I ‘flew’ in shoes that were more appropriate to the small spaces around the pedals. On this visit to the Banana Strip I had not been expecting to fly at all so had no change of footwear with me. I had managed to retrieve the situation and we did not re-launch ourselves up and over the seawall bank or hit anything but I had given the CFI and myself a nasty scare even if it was for only a few split seconds.

Having regained control and run the length of the runway until opposite the X-Air’s parking space we came to a standstill facing the railway fence. I now had to make an effort to extricate myself from the X-Air. Chris gave advice and I found it marginally easier to disembark than it had been to embark.
I set off for the clubhouse and its facilities relishing the thought of a cup of tea. A shout followed me-‘Where are you going?’
‘Where the blue blazes do you think I’m going?’ I muttered to myself.
‘Do you want tea or coffee?’ I shouted back.
We had secured the X-Air to the railway fence and various concrete filled tyres so it was time for the kettle.
‘What about the covers?’ Chris shouted back at me.
‘Covers?’
I vaguely remembered the old adage ‘New skins afore Christmas-never been covered you see’. Now I was beginning to see.
We struggled manfully with the ‘covers’ until we were finally on the point of giving up. Alan Cashin, our deputy CFI, came up and viewed our efforts. He did make helpful comments also lending a helping hand by pulling and stretching various parts of the voluminous waterproof fabric until all the X-Air looked to be covered.

We were now satisfied and were heading for the promised cup of tea. Mrs Draper was walking towards us. We spread out a little making ourselves a smaller target.
You haven’t put the covers on have you? she asked.
‘Of course we have and tied it down’ we answered, more or less in unison.
‘I’m going for a fly round now as it is such a nice evening’ she said, ‘you need not have bothered!’
‘Now she tells us!’
‘One hour previously that would have been all we needed to know!’
I don’t think she did ‘go for a fly round’ finding the X-Air short on fuel and finding it ill covered. I think Mrs Draper carried out a recovering of the aircraft with a view to making sure that neither she nor her would-be syndicate when formed, would be liable for ‘New skins afore Christmas’.
In the clubhouse I had a meaningful conversation with Chris. I also settled my debts but I did not join the syndicate at that time because I wanted to think about it first. True, his eyes had lit up when he saw me produce my chequebook but I showed great parsimony and paid for the X-Air flight only but taking into the accounting a small credit left over from previous flights.
I drove away via the scruffy little lane but on this occasion I knew this would not be for the last time. I had to come back for no other reason than that I had to sort out my personal braking problems.

B. Umble.
April 2004.