Have you taken risks?

[motzartmerv]

Yea.. good call... if you were at appin, wedderburn was directly beneath you:keen:...

 

cheers

 

 

[dlps73]

Wedderburn has a Security Guard that lives on the premise so there is no problem regarding "locked gates".

 

Cheers........Doug

 

 

[poteroo]

The greatest risk that I run is driving the 10km from home to the airport - during which my fellow retirees in this city do their darndest to wipe me out ....(Albany is a city with no traffic lights, just roundabouts).

 

You're not about to hear admissions of guilt from we wrinklies because we're now often in positions of responsibility, and it would undermine the message of taking due care and regard. Besides, most of us are having serious difficulty in recalling anything beyond yesterday. Certainly, we've long forgotten our youthful indiscretions.

 

happy days,

 

 

[Guest Maj Millard]

Speak for yourself Poteroo.........O' forgetfull one.

 

Now gather round the campfire and I'll tell youall' a story !....It comes under the heading of an unplanned, but necessary risk, and is more humourous to recall now than anything else.

 

In the eighties when I was activly flying ULs with a club in Northern California, myself and three other intrepid pilots organized a nice Sunday morning jaunt in search of an airport breakfast resturant. This a normal activity over there, as many country airports support great little resturants. This was in the period when the original US FAR 103 was in force, which only allowed the carrage of no more than 5 US. gallons of fuel on any UL. This roughly equates to around 22-25 Liters as we know it in Australia. A couple of the planes (Eipper GT 400s) had actually illegally fitted another tank behind their center cover, so were carrying about 10 Gals.

 

My little WW1 replica biplane only had a 5 1/2 gal tank, but would take 6 gals or so, if I filled it to the brim. The 447s and 503s of the day wern't bad on fuel, and we were pretty good at conserving it.

 

Off we went into the early morning air. A short hop to another airport to pick up 'Canary Jack', an old timer who got the name because his GT 400 was all bright yellow.

 

The four of us then headed inland off the coast, across the coastal hills. We landed about an hour later at our first stop, where we had expected to get a fuel top-up, and breakfast. To our dissapointment neither were available, and wouldn't be for an hour or so !. We gathered around and assessed the situation. We all had the fuel for the short 30 minute hop to the next stop, Clear Lake. Off we went again into the lovely morning air,.....hell Clear Lake had a better resturant anyway !. I was now down to around 2 1/2 gals in the biplane, just where it started to slosh in the round tank, and made accurate assessment of fuel quantity dodgy at best. I definetly needed fuel at the next stop, as did a couple of the others, otherwise we wouldn't be going anywhere after brekky.

 

After a pleasant flight except for my fuel concerns, the next airport hove into sight next to a large lake.

 

To our horror as we flew overhead, we all noticed the four large white crosses spaced down the single long runway !!. To add insult to injury a couple of dozers working at one end were busy ripping up the old asphalt !!. Confusion....what the ??. Nobody had any fuel to backtrack to our departure point.

 

I needed to land the bipe somewhere fairly shortly, as I was now well into my last gallon, and I started activley scanning adjacent fields for a suitable landing spot.

 

We hummed around like bees waiting for someone to make the first move !.

 

I then espied the newly completed taxiway alongside the runway below, fresh with it's new black asphalt. I wonder.....I settled into a circut and made my approach. It might be illegal but defintly better than sticking her into the unknown field option, even if it was a bit narrow.

 

As I came over the fence and flared for landing, I looked over at the dozer working close by. I will never forget the look on the drivers' face as he spun around in his seat, mouth open, to watch the little ww1 bipe, pilot complete with leather helmet and flowing white scarf, make a successfull, if hurried, touch down.

 

He had no choice then but to stop, and watch in stunned disbelief, as the other three touched down on the new taxiway after me, like we did it every day !!.

 

We all parked by the resturant, which together with the fuel bowser, was open. We were gleefully informed that the runway had been closed for the last two weeks for resurfacing !.. and hadn't we seen the notam ?. We pleaded innocence, and were invited in for breakfast with several of the small town locals, who also frequented the place on Sunday mornings. The yanks will do anything for a buck, and hell we were the best aviation bucks they had seen in two weeks !!.

 

After a lovely brekky amidst much joking about us landing on a closed airport, we all fueled up and departed from the lovely new taxiway.

 

:ne_nau::ne_nau::ne_nau::ne_nau:

 

 

[farri]

Good onya Maj, and like me I bet you have a heck of a lot more stories to tell.

 

Have I taken risks? Absolutely.

 

I`ve been taking calculated risks all my life and had I not done so I would not have done all the things that I have or be where I am today.

 

Cheers,

 

Frank. :kumbaya:

 

 

[Mazda]

Fantastic story Maj, it's like reading a Richard Bach book! (Any more?)

 

 

[Guest ozzie]

I'm just about to take my regular weekly high risk trip. travelling home from Sydney to the Hunter Valley via the F3 freeway or scareway as i call it.

 

 

[Guest Maj Millard]

Took up skydiving in 1969, survived some real nasty new designs through the seventies, threw people like Ozzie out of perfectly good aeroplanes. (that was fun !) Took up UL flying around 87, still flying them. Yeah I have plenty of stories, just got to get around to digging them up and putting them down. Life is just one big story really isn't it ?.......Frank I know you have lots also....one of the pleasures of surviving and getting old I guess.....there's got to be something in it !!............

 

 

[Guest ozzie]

Yeah and i never once complained about your bum spots either.

 

 

[Guest Maj Millard]

Here is another one while I'm warmed up.....first installment !!!!

 

Same little bipe, same airfield in Northern California. I came through the front gate around 2pm Saturday arvo, running late and hunkerin' for a fly. As I parked and jumped out of the car my three regular flying buddies were taking off. Damn !! where are they going I asked. Somebody said "they're just off to the coast to fly the beach" which was only a short 12nm from our field. I hurredly pulled the little bipe out of the hangar, did a quick pre flight, (I built her from scratch and new her intimatly), and checked the fuel. Hell, only 4 1/2 gals left from the previous weekend. I don't have time to put fuel in if I am going to catch them !. It's only 12 NM there and back I think. I strap in and and kick her in the guts, and I'm soon airborne headed for the coast, and I arrive there shortly after.

 

I change directions a couple of times up and down the long beach, but try as I might can't spot any damn planes. (Unbenounced to me they had taken off and completely changed their mind, and had gone in an opposite direction !...the barstaxxs) Hell I'm over the beach, with 4 gals in the tank, all dressed up and nowhere to go.

 

Up the coast to the North about 20nm, is one of the world largest Tibetin temple retreats outside Tibet. I could clearly see it's twin golden domes shining in the sunshine. Hell everyones' been to the temple but me..!!

 

I do a fuel check, now just a little below the four gal mark, and set off defiantly to the North. I am surprised just how quickly I reach the temples, circle the twin gold domes a couple of times to make sure I have well and truely shattered the monks' meditative ways, and strike out back to the South, along the coast.

 

Suddenly It becomes apparent that I am not moving too fast, and it dawns on me just why I got up there so quick !!..tailwind. It appears I am now going to need every drop of the three gallons in my tank to get back to my home field. I hunker down in the cockpit a bit to reduce drag and pull the throttle back a bit to save some fuel.

 

Now as you all know theres no free ride, so I loose a bit of altitude, and I'm soon scooting along the beach at a hundred feet waving to people on the porches of their posh california redwood -clad beach houses. I hope there enjoying it 'cause I'm not !!.

 

I finally, after what seems an eternity, clear the coastal hills and turn inland towards home. My fuel is now down in that sloshy area, and it looks like the headwind has put me well below the 2 gallon mark. I make a wise decision (first one that day!) not to try and make my home base, due to my low fuel. I decide instead to land at a dairy farm on the way, that we visit often. It's Bob Illias place, no runway as such, just land on the narrow road leading uphill to the house, but always a warm welcome. Continued next post>>>>>>>>

 

 

[farri]

Again,Goodonya Maj :thumb_up::thumb_up::thumb_up:, stay warmed up.

 

Cheers,

 

Frank.

 

 

[Guest Maj Millard]

Little Bipe running out of fuel............final installment!!!....

 

Bob's dairy farm is now only a few short nm away, but I'm sweating now, well and truly learnt my lesson in spades, and just want down !!. Between me and Bobs is the small rural Californian town of Bodega. Hitchcocks' movie 'Birds'..remember ?.The white school house on the hill, the quant white wind- blown cottages, it's all still there and a bit of a local tourist attraction. It's straight ahead, coming up fast. I am now down to just above roof height, and the last thing I want to do is increase throttle to climb. I fly pretty much down the main street and past the school house off the right wing. I just have time for a quick flashback to the movie, and visualize Rod Taylor and Tippy hedron fighting off black birds !!. None around today. The tourist must have thought they were now filming a WW1 epic !!.

 

I've only got a couple of low hills now to get over, in the green dairy country, and finally there it is ahead, the farm. I'm prepared now for the engine to quit any moment, and I'm going to plant it on one of those lovely grassy hillsides !!. I set up quickly for the road and tell myself "stick it on, you don't have any fuel for a go around". I manage to do that ok, and with much relief, park up in front of the house. Bob comes out on the porch thinking it's just another social visit !. I ask him " got any fuel ?"..and he replys as usual "round the back of the house, take all you want"

 

It always amazes me just how quick you can go from sheer terror, to simple normalcy, in just a couple of minutes. Bob makes coffee, and soon we are both sitting on his front porch enjoying the warm breeze and chatting ..as usual.

 

Footnote: I was relativly early in my flying career at this time, with probabily around 120 hrs or so. (right where you think you know it all) This was one memorable episode where another good lesson was learned. I do not advocate getting down to the dregs with fuel to anyone, and haven't done it myself now for years.

 

To quote Dick Rutan..."I hate sweating fuel !.

 

 

[Guest Maj Millard]

That went deep Ozzie !.......I tried hard to put you in the george across the road but couldn't do it !......

 

 

[skydog]

bum spots

 

Ozzie.

 

You might have to enlighten the masses on what you mean by "bum spots".

 

Could be confusing to some.

 

 

[Guest ozzie]

Actually the Major did OK just had a jab at him.

 

Bum Spot. The exit point above the ground that is anywhere except where it should be. The idea is to leave the aircraft somewhere in the wind window that will put you near the target. Probably the best description of how to 'spot' is in the movie 'fandango".

 

 

[Guest Maj Millard]

Speaking of bum spots....Did I tell you about the time a whole DC-3 load of us got grossly miss-spotted in North Carolina once. We got put out about 10nm from the airport, and ended up under canopy over endless pine forrest. We all made it into the pine trees without breaking anything, but then skydivers don't carry compasses do they ?.................

 

 

 

[bushpilot]

I wonder about the definition of "risk". We all take a risk of one sort or another each time we get out of bed in the morning... It's all about degrees.

 

So when I take off and land on my home strip - with lotsa gum trees on approach / takeoff, and no go-around option on account of the ridge behind, that is a risk; but it's calculated. Some might say it's unnecessary; they might think 'why doesnt he only fly from the local aerodrome?' Yet I consider myself risk adverse, so why do I do it? Well, I think it's a risk worth taking as it gives me the pleasure of flying from home. If we always seek risk-free options, then we would not venture anywhere or do anything.

 

This is not to promote foolhardiness, its all about assessed and managed 'risk', taking account of all the factors and employing strategies to mitigate at least part of that risk...

 

 

[Guest Maj Millard]

Could points Chris, Flying is of course a risk we don't have to take, just like driving. But if you don't get off the couch and take risks you don't acheive. Flying is just one decision after another, and after a while you get really good at making more right than wrong decisions, therefore minimizing the risk....simple right ?.............

 

 

[Mazda]

Great story Maj, one we can all learn from, but there's more to it which has made me think.

 

In one of Richard Bach's books he recounts a story of sitting next to a guy on an airline flight. The guy recounted war tales in vivid detail, then summed up the rest of his life in a sentence. His life had no stories any more, and hadn't for decades. Richard thought of the pilots he knew, who all had stories from today, last week, last year.

 

I might start a new thread, where people can add their stories. Good, bad, or just memorable - the flights which give us memories and define our lives. Maj, I hope you can add lots of them!