A Proctor HolideY

This extremely interesting account of a flying holiday has been sent us by Mrrc DlerE and contains a great deal of valuable information as well as being a verY good storY

It had always been my ambition to own a Proctor, an aircraft of character and, probably' the fastest touring aeroplane readily available to the private owner. My small group had worked ,p io it, starting with an Aeronca 100, then a Wicko, and now we had the only Proctor 2 on the register, though I still don't really know the difference between a 2 and a 3'

It doesn't do to weigh up the operating costs of any private aircraft too carefully, not before buying one, anyway, but we reckoned that with a bit of hard work at week-ends we could get by on the C. of A.

By the middle of August there was a three-year C. of A. in the log books and enough local flying to show up any of the inevitable snags in detail that one must expect after a major overhaul' It was now time to start the serious flying' Cannes for a week's holiday would do for a start'

The boss looked into my office early on the appointed Friday afternoon and said I had better gii "f before the weather clamped' This worried me rather as, needless to say, I had been keeping a pretty close eye on the weather. However, the opportunity was not to be missed and his information was probably better than mine.

Back at home the co-pilot having, as usual, not risen before mid-day, thought he would do a little pre-holiday shopping and was rather put out to hear that the weather did not intend to wait for him. The gear was quickly loaded into G-AIEH at Denham and in a few minutes we were in the Croydon circuit with suitably empty tanks. The third member of our party was due to join us at Toussus-le-Noble, either that evening or the following morning.

Met. said that we should have V.M.C. as lar as Paris, but delay was not advisable as rain was coming in from the west. We were quickly and efficiently cleared from Croydon. I still had not accustomed myself to the joy of a self-starter which, if nothing else, gives one more confldence in the probability of a get-away on E.T.D.

There followed a glorious fliglit as far as Abbeville with the thought of a whole week's holiday ahead and the Proctor going like a top, rewarding us in full for all our work on the C. of A. I settled down to a study of the finer details of engine performance and Joie de vie'. Everything was perfect; this was life as it should be.

After Abbeville at 3,500 ft., small patches of occasional cloud passed below. The forecast deterioration was coming in on our starboard beam, so down to 1,500 ft. in a gradual descent.

After Beauvais the rain started and I began to have thoughts about Toussus, which in the best of visibility is difficult to find. On a previons occasion I had missed it by probably less than a mile with almost unlimited visibility. If we turned round now Le Touquet would almost certainly be difficult by the time we reached it, also Beauvais. The territory to the east was unknown to me, although I had made sure we had ample maps. To go on was the right decision now we were so near, but it was essential to keep right on track. We had no radio, unless-; and this seemed to be the answer. A week previously I had installed out of curiosity a portable M.F. receiver and fixed loop. The objects were three- fold. To receive radio ranges, test match scores, and we might even try a bit of damped oscillatory flying, sometimes known as 'homing with a fixed loop', but the equipment had not been tried out except in the hangar on the light programme. As near as makes no matter, one leg of the Orly range runs over the top of Toussus and nowl had the range ident. coming up well. Clamping the 'phones over the co-pilot's head I yelled, ' '( A" on the right, "N" on the left, steer about 195'. See what you can do. l'11 map-read.'

We seemed to weave about a bit to start with but soon settled down, and when Versailles came up I was confident and the pilot had got the idea. And there, just off to the left, was Toussus. A half circuit, changed in the middle from left to right hard, and the Proctor was rattling over the steel runway. Five minutes later the far end disappeared in the rain.

At the bar we joined the crew of another Proctor whose efforts to reach Geneva had been frustrated by the weather and whose radio had not served a very useful purpose until they got around to 121.5 m.c.

Together we were given a lift to Versailles. Paris, of course, is not to be recommended to anyone bent on a start before lunch on the following day. In the pouring rain six'Procteurs' stood forlornly surveying the hotel prospects and unanimously agreeing that the immediate need should be satisfied in the nearest cafe. Just as the umpteenth round was beir-rg set up the third member of our crew suddenly appeared in the doorway. How did he know where to find us? Simple. He had arrived late at Versarlles station and persuaded a delightful receptionist to ring round a selection of hotels in the neighbourhood and see if any of them had two Englishmen staying. This one admitted to bein-u, at the moment, saddled with a mad English party.

I spent a miserable night listening to a strong wind, amplified by the construction of the hotel, and cursing myself for breaking my rule about always hangaring or picketing an aeroplane. It was witl-r considerable relief, therefore, tl-rat we stepped off the bus at Toussus the following day to see 'Echo Hotel' standing where we left her.

The cold front which had gone though during the night still dawdled across our track to the south, so it was mid-day before we could take off for Lyons. As we wanted to reach Cannes before evening, a brief snack suited mysetf and co-pilot, but Number 3 insisted on taking with him an enormous French cheese-type sandwich. His enthusiasm for this beast receded with the day and up front we blamed it for the Proctor's reluctance to climb above 5,000 ft. It was buried at Avignon the following day with full honours.

The remains of the cold front lingered over the mountains north of Lyons, but we managed to avoid cloud by flying through the valleys, and joined the Lyons circuit in the last of the rain. Having been carefully briefed to land on the grass alongside the runway we were surprised to receive a red on finals. There appeared to be no reason for this, so after another circuit we landed on the grass unheralded by pyrotechnics. I wonder if that controller picked up the right pistol.

Cannes was in the bag now, so we treated ourselves to lunch while waiting for the weather to improve.

'Risk of low stratus at the coast', said Met. But I found this hard to believe for the Mediterranean. Must have been thinking of the English coast. After a long downwind take-off, by request, we were on our way down the renowned Rh6ne Valley where every Met. Office has a rubber stamp marked 'thunderstorms'. And there they were. Flying about 2,000 feet above the valley floor, we picked our way between them as best we could and reduced speed when turbulence became serious. Although rain was heavy in places, I was not aware of any hail, though, as was confirmed afterwards, it was there all right. The navigators had their time cut out mopping up.

Further south we began to be forced off track to the west by thunderstorms. Beasts with large anvil tops. A flash of lightning on the wing tip and we would alter course 20' away, only to see another large fork nearer than ever. 'Turn 90o from track and let's get out of this. I'm content to just read about aircraft that get struck by lightning', I said.

At last we were clear and heading back towards the Rh6ne which we picked up just above Avignon, and set a new course. The flat terrain began to take on an almost desert appearance and in the cockpit clothes were removed and windows opened.

Dammit. There was low stratus.

'Get under it', I yelled to the pilot, 'before it becomes thick'. Impatient at his slow rate of descent (a Hunter boy, too !), I hit him over the head with the map and yelled 'Get down !'. With a casual gesture he pointed to the altimeter which was already down to 500 feet. I looked more carefully over the side and realised that it was not fooling.

At that moment we passed over a seemingly disused airfield in the 'desert' and this we circled while thinking up a new plan. Daylight was short and the unidentified strip did not look too inviting.

I knew our position on the map to the nearest couple of miles, but this place did not feature, so we climbed on a north-westerly heading for Avignon Caumant, ,ollr official alternate, 20 miles back.

The sun was now almost ahead and one had to overcome the impression that the mist was fast clamping in. A small range of hills with the tops in cloud lay on our track. After that check on our altimeter and conversion from meters to feet, etc., it seemed reasonable to go through this cloud with 1,000 feet in hand. On emerging the other side we found the ground interestingly close. Thereafter I regarded all spot heights with suspicion.

Avignon came up right ahead and the Pioctor joined gliders in the circuit, overshooting once to allay the fears of a glider which seemed to be waggling his wings at us. On taxi-ing up to the small control hut on the dusty gragsfield a platoon of soldiers in smart ceremonial dress presented arms and the Commandant in his full uniform came to the salute. I slid back the window and grinned in a gesture of appreciation, but I think my tie, which by this time was loosened, to put it mildly, must have given the show away, for the Commandant directed us to taxi immediately to the hangar at the far side of the field. No. 3 stayed behind to see the fun and as a Dakota joined the circuit he advanced upon a lady standing slightly apart from the general party and asked in his best public school French what was going on. Before he could get an answer, gendarmes hustled him away to a safe distance; to watch Madame Pineau greet her husband as he stepped from the Dakota.

Avignon Caumant is a pleasant aerodrome with two Tiger Moths doing marathon service towing gliders. In the spacious hangars were a couple of partly dismantled Morane Parasol monoplanes, and a fully serviceable 'A' frame Caudron G.3 which had just flown down from Paris for a display.

A tropical buzz ran through the undergrowth and the warm breeze off the olive groves lent a pleasant tropical atmosphere to the surroundings of the Flying Club, where bronzed figures sat around in the shade. The little bar provided relaxation as we lounged on the veranda in the soft twilight enlarging upon the day's flying.

Accommodation in Avignori was difficult but a room without a window was eventually reserved, which was tedious in the heat, but the delights of that picturesque town made up for it. There was no need for an early start the following day either, because the low stratus was not expected to clear before midday. Though I had more than once previously been through Avignon, I had not so far seen the famous pont, but a glimpse of it from the air now prompted us to make a small photographic mission to the spot.

Back at the airfield our Met. report gave stratus at 100 metres so we adjourned to the hangar to give'Echo Hotel'a D.I. There was some paint missing from the leading edge and the A.S.l. read 30 kts. on the hangar floor, suggesting water in the pitot line. Rectification took less time than the discovery of the necessary word 'tournavice', for screwdriver.

Fuel was now the problem; we had flown t hr. 50 mins. since full tanks and therefore had about 22 gals.left to dry tanks, say l$ hrs. safe. It is always advisable to check the likely contents

Popular Flying, September, 1957 in terms of time flown against fuel gauge readingsAt Avignon fuel came from cans and, worse still, only for cash. The flight was planned, therefore, along the coast via Hydres and Frejus, the situation to be reviewed at each.

About midday Met. gave the low stratus as 300 metres on the coast, and we decided to goAgain we passed over our old friend which we now referred to as the 'desert strip', still unidentified, and carried on in fine visibility as far as Marseilles. But thick low cloud covered the harbour and we could just not seem to fit in between it and the sea; so climbing through, burst out into the full heat of the sun at 1,200 feet. 'We'11 go on for l0 minutes over the sea and if there's no break we'll have to go back to Marseilles', was the verdict.

Round the next headland, which protruded through this white cotton wool blanket, was a break into which we dived to come out beneath at 400 feet. From then on the base varied from 3-500 feet, but we were forced to fly over the sea all the way, and only once managed to cut across a peninsular. Round the headland at the Gulf of St. Tropez the lighthouse was standing up in the cloud.

No. 3 wanted to beat up various ships that we passed but I was too intent on the fuel gauges and began to change tanks more and more frequently, and give the mixture control an extra shove for luck. 'How far?' to the navigator'Fifty miles', the reply. It was a little disconcerting to get the same reply ten minutes later. However, the second navigator, using the Carte Michelin was having more success.

At a respectable height I would have run one tank dry, because the engine would run for some time after the gauge read zero, but I did not know how long it would take to pick up again on the other tank. Even with Mk.5 tank_vents fitted" 300 feet is a bit low to ring off main engines; on this point it is also important in a Proctor to co-ordinate the turns properly lest slip or skid starves the petrol feed, which is at the inboard of a long shallow wing tank.

Soon, however, it was clear that we should make Cannes with ample in hand and need not think in terms of alternates. As the aerodrome came into view round the last headland we climbed to the cloudbase and joined their circuit at a respectable height. Even so, the base leg and final turn is all very interesting when approaching down the valley. Then to a late but sumptuous lunch, preceded, of course, by numerous aperitifs, during which time the terrors of flying reach unprecedented heights !

The private aeroplane is made most welcome at Cannes. The club, with its verandas and exquisite meals cooked to order, also offers an efficient control briefing and met. unit, not to mention the hangars with their interesting collection of French ultra-lights, old British wooden aeroplanes, contrasting vividly with new American metallic wonders, bristling with radio equipment as if it were as common as oil leaks.

M. Andr6, part-time instructor at the club, invited us to join him for a day's gliding at Fayence, afi invitation which was eagerly accepted. A couple of days later the proctor was lifting off the runway with four up, its first experience of such a load, M. Andr6,s young son sitting on his knee.

After a short climb, in the wake of the club Argus, we were crossing the mountains in search of this famous gliding centre. When M. Andr6 discovered we had a V.P. airscrew his doubts about the Proctor's ability to operate in and out of Fayence disappeared. For my part, I stuck to the maxim that anything Argus does, proctor does better, so after a quick run to look at the surface we dropped on to the best of the airfield and proceeded to lunch-a meal of no small proportions, presided over by M. Fauvel. Gliding was clearly later-much later.

During a memorable aflternoon, surrounded by the lower Alps, some of us sampled gliding and others the joys of the Tug, a Fieseler Storch with radial engine. This remarkable machine was swung by rushing at the propellor and pulling it through half a revolution. Then, long after it had come to rest and the starter had gathered himself up for the next rush, the pilot wound a small handle and the engine burst into life. The ride was out of this world. The great bird would shudder as the cockpit filled with hot air, then lumber forward, gradually drawing its undercarriage beneath its belly, the wheels tilting towards each other. The windows, which were set out from the sides of the fuselage, gave the impression of being in a church.

As evening drew on and the Argus, after performing a few stalls which ended up in the inverted position, had returned to Cannes, it fell to the Proctor to make two trips to get everybody back. But on taking off from Cannes for the second time, I found that the sun had gone down beliind the mountains and no longer illuminated the valleys and lower land. The perspex all round glowed like fire, and opening the windows did not help much. I began to realise how popular I was going to be if I failed to find Fayence in the next few minutes. Below was dark featureless forest and, as the E.T.A. ran out, I began to orbit, peering into the gloom. It was quite some time before I realised Fayence was directly below

All too soon the holiday was over and time to return. The idea was to fly home on Saturday, allowing Sunday in reserve for bad weather Met. were pessimistic on the Friday evening during flight planning, a process which usually turns out to be a bit of a waste of time until definite weather reports are available.

Early Saturday morning the reports were fair. Strong head winds in the Rh6ne Valley, advisable to go to Marseilles and check there instead of Lyons more or less direct. For the rest, at least 1,000 foot cloud base. Showers.

At a quarter to nine'Echo Hotel'was airborne with full tanks heading across the short cut to Marseilles. Turbulence increased with the ruggedness of the terrain, an indication of the wind strength. Over Marseilles harbour, after 40 minutes' flying, there were white horses on the sheltered waters with the wind sock horizontal about 40" off the grass runway. This would seem to indicate a 'wheeler', but after two or three bounces at an unaccustomed low ground speed, the crew decided that a three pointer would have been better after all. Taxi-ing was all on one brake and the following wind played havoc with the elevators, a clear indication to hold the stick firmly forward and taxi carefully.

There was some reluctance to go on. The copilot was suffering, having not slept all night, and was now snatching what sleep he could in the rear seat. Met. still forecast 40 kt. headwinds in'the valley' and it was certainly blowing hard. However, by the time the fuel had been topped up, we were determined to go and have a look-see. Imagine our surprise therefore when the headwind turned out to be a 5 kt. tail wind and we romped up to Lyons in style with very little trouble from turbulence.

It was now clear that we would be short of daylight unless delays could be avoided, and after careful consideration a flight plan to Lympne direct was submitted. This was reasonable as, althougl-r G-AIEH does not carry the extra 20 gallon long-range tanks, we should pass over Le Touquet and could land there, if necessary.

After a quick lunch we were off with a forecast of nothing less than 1,000 feet cloud base all the way. Within less than an hour, however, alterations of course were being made to avoid heavy rain and thunder showers. Our position was in doubt from time to time and patches of cloud appeared below, while the land and sky generally adopted a rather wet appearance.

The approach of the Paris zone called for some change of plan. What we really needed was a radio to check the weather ahead, but that. was for another time. Position was re-established with little confidence, but there was a dearth of aerodromes where we needed them, and it was unwise to continue to the coast in the hope of finding it in the clear. Maintaining height for the sake of visibility and rather at the expense of map reading, I again picked up the Orly range.

By this time we were well and truly V.F.R. on top with seven-eighths cover and the range signal getting stronger. It is, of course, much easier to follow a map if you know where you are, even if you only occasionally get glimpses of the ground, and in that happy state we approached Toussus.

Continuing on over the range station for 2! minutes should l-rave brought us nearly over the top of Toussus and, as the time approached, we were all relieved to see a large hole in the cloud with the airfield below.

Quickly throwing the cover over the cockpit (has anybody been able to seal those rear windows successfully?), we dived for the club and Met. Three hundred metres base at the coast was still the verdict, so more fuel was taken on and special V.F.R. clearance granted without trouble.

The wheels were hardly off the runway when the heavy rain blotted everytliing out and we ,climbed furiously, selecting carburettor warm air. The die was cast now and climb we must, being too low to descend and establish contact. But conditigns had not altered up here and, at 2,500 feet, course was set for the coast.

It had not been possible to check ground speed and the cover was now 8/8. The unenviable position of being on top without radio and not really knowing position or the weather below was now with us. The navigator forgot to mark his last fix with time on the map, so dead reckoning was going to be sketchy, too.

After half an houi I drew alarge circle on the map representing the possible limits of our position and carefully checked the maximum spot heights, converted to feet and allowing for all the €rrors I could think of and a few I couldn't, decided that 1,200 feet indicated was the safety height. The descent was begun, but at 1,400 feet

I thought of another erro^ rrrcl started to climb. At that moment the man in the.back woke up and pointed downwards. There, as I had not noticed, was a faint glimpse of the ground merged in cloud. Pulling the Proctor round in as tight a turn as I dared on instruments, we let down again to emerge into the misty gloom at 400 feet just south of the coast at Le Crotoy. The rest of the flight to Lympne was between 200 and 400 feet along the coast and across the channel.

Hopes of spending the night in the comfort of the country club were not reAlised as it was full, but Ann Attree kindly arranged transport to take us to Folkestone while we sipped refreshing cocktails in the bar.

Sunday, the last day of the holiday, and the spare day for weather, dawned miserably with mist and rain. Returning to the aerodrome tl"re crew passed the time spreading dope with their fingers on the Proctor's wounds, where hail had chipped the paint and bare fabric was showing signs of chaff.

By noon it appeared that the best of the day was at hand, so special V.F.R. was obtained to return to Denham, by way of the Chatham and Watford ranges. Taking care to keep to our E.T.A.s, we were able to maintain contact without difficulty at a respectable height, but all eyes were scanned i'rj '' '..neighbourhood of Brookmans Park for r. -ut lrloSt, which came up well on time and track..

Owing to shortage of space, we have held over Part 2 of Mr. Dearden's article until the next issue.

Turbi Plans

The existing French Turbi sheet 2 is now reolaced bv Plan No. P.F.A. 53-03 and 53-04. these sh6ets are drawn to a much larger scale (approximately one-fifth) and have been comirtitetv re-annotated in English. They show, in idditi,on, considerably more detail than the French plans.

Furthbr sheets of plans for the Turbi are in course of preparation, and these will be announced in pbpuran FLYING when available.