Sighing I realised that in many ways it was always going to end like this. This and other thoughts were going through my head as we circled in Rossall Field’s overhead for the 7th or 8th time (I lost count) whilst I frantically tried to adjust the position of my aircraft to join overhead for 02 with a right-hand circuit. The problem was, I just couldn’t remember where I was supposed to descend to, and so, tension rising within me, I made yet another orbit in the overhead.
It had all started out like the perfect day. It was sunny and with a light breeze and Isobel seemed genuinely interested in coming flying with me (she’s a teenager now and they can be fickle) and so struggling to withholding my amazement we set off from the caravan to drive the short four miles to the airfield.
Unfortunately, when I pulled Yankee Lima out of the hangar and discovered that there were only 12 litres of fuel in the tanks, not the ‘nearly 20’ that I had erroneously ‘remembered’, it became immediately evident that today was not going to proceed exactly as I had envisioned it.
To put that in context, 12 litres is almost an hours reserve, and after take-off and landing, it’s probably more like 30 minutes reserve.
So back in the car we jumped and confidently headed to the local petrol station, which, we discovered, was closed.
Inconvenient.
Oh well, nothing for it, back to the car then!
Garstang became our next destination of choice where there is a big BP garage, that was:
a – sure to have fuel and
b – also sure to have 2-stroke oil (I’d also ran out of that)
They had fuel, but unbelievably no 2-stroke oil!?! Bear in mind we are in the countryside where there are lots of machines that are powered by 2-stroke engines.
Happily however, the extremely helpful assistant told me about a local motor factors, which I decided to seek out with due speed.
Marching into the shop I announced with gusto that what I really needed to complete my life right now was a bottle of 2-stroke oil. In response I got “what’s it for?” whilst he concurrently offered me a small bottle of oil unreassuringly marked ‘garden machinery’.
Oh dear.
“A microlight, so fully synthetic please and the more expensive the better.”
Quickly replacing the chainsaw oil, he rummaged around and found something far more suitable. Purchase completed, we returned to the airfield and after losing nearly an hour finally got Yankee Lima ready for flight.
The weather was starting to turn but it was still ok, albeit not bright blue skies like it had been earlier that morning.
Something else was playing on my mind though. As we backtracked runway 02 I noticed a lot of vibration and naturally was concerned that the engine might be misbehaving (it is a 2-stroke after all), but, a check of the instruments and a further listen convinced me it was not the engine.
But what was making that noise?
I had realised by this point that the vibration was being transmitted from the undercarriage, but why?
All became apparent when I noticed the tracked vehicle marks running the length of the runway. Tractor tyre marks are not particularly forgiving and my little wheels were picking up every little ridge, and there were lots of those ridges, every inch in fact…
However even though the mystery was solved, things were about to get a bit more exciting very soon indeed… I just didn’t know it as I made the 180 degree turn at the top of the runway to line up with the 02 numbers.
I turned to Izzy – “ready to go?”
“Yes” she confirmed. I really need to teach her to say “affirm.”
So, throttle to the stop to squeeze every last HP out of Harriet’s little Rotax 503 and we started accelerating, kind of.
Slowly.
Alarmingly slowly actually.
I checked the RPM and it confirmed full power, and the engine sounded ok, but there was that weird vibration again.
Then a lightbulb moment occurred.
The bloody tractor tyre marks!
Remember all that stuff from principles of flight? Take-off and landing distance factors? Well they didn’t mention tractor tyres on the runway, but I guess it’s the same as long wet grass…
The outcome was that my aircraft was accelerating very slowly, even though we were nowhere near MAUW. In fact, as we approached the intersection of the cross runway, I made my decision.
Throw it away.
I pulled the throttle right back, and, at that moment, quite annoyingly, we lifted off.
Oh – (honest that is a verbatim quotation from the thought that went through my head.)
Throttle back forwards, lower the nose to build speed and, thankfully we began to climb away.
I glanced at my passenger to observe the look of terror I presumed was on her face but she seemed completely nonplussed.
So, back to plan a, the beach then.
As an aside, the tyre marks were from the machinery used to plough up the end of the field which is being extended to over 600 metres now, and, happily they have also been rollered away.
We turned on course and overflew the caravan site where I’ve now got my new ‘airfield home’ and then after a few orbits for photo’s, set course for the beach.
Approaching the beach Izzy noticed there were two other aircraft already enjoying the delights of Pilling Sands, along with a couple of kite flyers who, obligingly pulled down their kites as they saw we were making an approach to land.
After shutting down and getting out, we now faced the next problem.
How to get to the shore? You see, the bit of beach we were landed on was perfectly dry, but unfortunately around the edges it was a little wetter and it looked like we were going to have to get our feet wet. Hardly what the hero aviator wants to do as he struts up the beach to the ice cream shop with vigour!
Still needs must, I’d promised Izzy and ice cream and an ice cream she would have.
Dodging the worst ‘quicksandy’ looking bits we climbed the quay and purchased the promised cold treat, whilst I opted for a more sensible cup of tea, it was only May in the North West after all…
The flight back was straight forwards and we quickly arrived back at the field where I prepared to join overhead for runway 28 with a left-hand circuit. However, after overflying and looking at the wind sock it appeared that the wind was now favouring runway 02 again, which is a right-hand circuit.
At this point I had a huge brain fart and for the life of me could not figure out how to get to the dead side for runway 02 and descend safely to join the RH circuit. The image from SkyDemon below illustrates my predicament…
It was amazing, I’ve never ever, ever, ever, EVER had a problem before with overhead joins but the variable this time was reversing the circuit direction once I was in the overhead. In retrospect, what I should have done was depart the overhead and then re-join for a righthand circuit, keeping the airfield on my right, but at the time I just couldn’t fathom it.
Thankfully with my daughter contributing to solving the problem by laughing at me several times, I managed to figure it out and made a good circuit and a really good landing which rounded off the day nicely.
Even better, there was no one watching from the club house!
Dan Roach Flying Author 