The problem with flying is that it’s perceived as a fairly esoteric sport and as such the chances of being able to share any of the magic with your fellow office workers has about the same odds as winning the lottery.
On that basis I feel it’s only fair that I burden you lot with the joys of last Sunday’s flight.
I figure this way I don’t get the pitying looks and the quick change of subject, normally involving objects of a spherical nature and groups of men cuddling each other.
But first a brief explanation.
My aircraft of choice is the Skyranger – I’ve bought the kit and even as we speak it’s being rowed across the Atlantic by a team of swarthy, dedicated Frenchmen. Well, that’s an assumption I’ve made based on the time interval between the order being placed and the fact that I’m still waiting.
To that end I initially started my Ultralight flying with the Quicksilver 500. A rag and tube design with not to dissimilar flying characteristics to the Skyranger. And what a magnificent choice it was.
There is something almost mystical in flying an aircraft that responds with the same speed that I think at or slower. What other aircraft allows you to turn on to finals, take out the Thermos, pour a cup of coffee, drink said coffee with maybe a biscuit or two, clean up and still have time to round out, flare and touch down with barely a whisper from the tyres – it’s my kind of aircraft!
So you can understand how bewildered I felt when Dave, my instructor who’s conversant with Lightwings, Jabirus, Hunters, Quicksilvers and the Maquis de Sade stated that we wouldn’t be using the Quicksilver for my Cross Country navigational exercises as he wanted to use the tried and true navigational tools comprising a compass, map and stopwatch – with the Quicksilver we’d have to swap the stopwatch for a calendar - how mean is that?
So saying, he informed me that we would be using his personal Plastic Parrot to fly in. Now I’ve got nothing against Jabirus, in fact they’ve solved a long held curiosity of mine regarding where those white plastic bags that Woolies use go to after you’ve finished with them – I’d always thought they went to landfill so it’s nice to see they’ve been recycled in a positive manner. And notwithstanding the fact that the Aboriginal translation of Jabiru is “Shot Duckâ€Â. It’s just that they’re too fast and impossible to slow down – by me at any rate.
I’m quite comfortable flying along and being overtaken by geese, etc and you’ll never find any squashed bugs on a Quicksilver’s windscreen – they’ve got enough time to get out of the way before you hit them – the old see and avoid concept.
Speed is not what it’s all about. The objective behind my flying is to enjoy the journey as much as the destination.
Irrespective, I bit the bullet and for the last six or seven weeks I’ve been screaming around the countryside (literally) in the Plastic Parrot with Dave as my not so silent companion. Thankfully these circumstances came to an end last Saturday when Dave reluctantly awarded me the Cross Country Certification. Now I’d like to think the reluctance derived from the realisation that he would miss my company but I have the feeling that it was more from the complaints he’ll receive further up the track. Nevertheless, I had finished with the Jabiru.
My normal routine is to fly once a week; this restriction is based on purely financial constraints and has nothing to do with Dave’s pleading and/or threats. However as a celebration and a fervent desire to fly something that I liked, I rolled up the next morning and requested the Quicksilver. Dave was more than happy to oblige – I’ve since worked out that the happiness was derived from the logic that if I crash, the engine, mounted on the rear, would use me as an airbag as it hurtled forward driven by its mass and inertia. So it was a win-win situation.
The minute I was airborne all the old feelings returned. This aircraft climbs (with one up) like a love sick angel. I’ll agree that you have to decrease the power a little in order to see the instruments otherwise the vibration deems the panel a large blur but what aircraft isn’t with out its idiosyncrasies?
There is a feeling that I get when flying that transcends any attempt to verbalise it and makes you very aware of the old adage that it’s a privilege to fly not a right. For the next hour I wallowed in that glorious feeling. I was King of all I surveyed, which wasn’t a lot given my poor eyesight. Up and down, round and round, Dave didn’t want me to go to far due to his belief there were strong winds on their way, personally I think it’s a trust issue.
All too soon it was time to call a full stop landing. I parked the aircraft with a smile bigger than a Cheshire cats and disentangled myself from all the paraphernalia that manages to surround you in a small cockpit. I sat there for a while just reflecting on how incredibly lucky I was to have found a hobby that repaid so much and as I had my afternoon power nap that smile was still there.
Thank you for listening……
Cheers……..Doug