RALLYING TO LA BAUTE

by R.B. McHARDY

It se:ms'rather a sltame that Groups do not send more aircraft on the Con.tinental Royal Aero Club. As value for money, they are absolutely wonCerful and should be anyone wanting a change lrom the wnhealthy cttitude to avialiort in this country.

The Rally described is one organised by the Royal Aero Club. For your entry fee of f2.2s. you are met at a foreign destination, driven to a five-star hotel, wined and dined for three days and then driven back to your aircraft again. And, arriving at the right time or travelling farthest, wins a prize too.

Colleague Martin Barnes and I took off on a June day for L,a Baule in Brittany, from Ringway Airport, Manchester. The forecast visibility was one mile, wind nil, a stationary cold fro:rt and no hope of chang: !

Getting clearance from Manchester's control zone was the first difficulty as air traffic is strictly controlled up here. Visibility being below the legal minimum, we had to avoid all airways and control zones and so elected to go as far towards the sea crossing as possible, making our first stop Stapleford Tawney -north east of London. This meant bringing into play the pilot's safety valve, the "Special VFR Clearance". This simply means that the aerodrome zofie controller gets you to hell out of his zone clear of traffic and you then keep out of airways and in sight of the ground. This is fine ! You can travel, except for one thing. Air Force traflic-ours and U.S.A.F.run their business their own way, so if you are flying "Special VFR", in what is left of our island when the airways are taken away, you need to look out.

Taking off at 11 a.m., control held a DCTC at the end of the main runway until we had cleared the field.

Some of you may already be imagining the two pilots in our 90 m.p.h. Auster bending over the instrument and radio gear to work this Special VFR thing out. Don't you believe it. When we can't see, we get on a railway

Popular Flying, MarchlApril, 196O line the rell

Rallies organised by the seriously considered by and we stick there ! And we did, with flrst landmark the radio telescope at JodBank.

We flew at 300 feet for a good hour on the "iron beam" until gradually visibility crept up to two miles and, as we neared our flrst destination, we began to work out a course on D.R. for the last ten miles-the railroad didn't quite reach ! One circle at the end of the railroaC then seven minutes at 140' and there it was. A leisurely lunch and the weather rolled up the cold front and there was glorious sunshine.

From Stapleford we flew to Lympne, a grass customs' airfield perched on the edge of the English Channel near to Dover, crossing the shining estuary of the Thames on the way, and leaving London a grey haze on the starboard wing tip. From 1,000 feet above Lympne, we could clearly see the white cliffs of France across the Channel and so we went in, cleared customs and filed our plan for Le Touquet, the Casino tcwn, aad the first convenient customs field in France. Any of you who have flown across sea, will know how your eyes atch the distant shore even if it is only forty miles across !

The French coast line was clearly visible from 3,000 feet, but everywhere except the golden beaches was hidden under a nearly solid layer of cumulus-a fairly common feature there on a hot day. This meant losing height to go under and flnd Le Touquet and at 300 feet we levelled out along the sand dunes and went under the clouds and up the sandy river estuary to the field.

It was a pretty rough ride under active cumulus and the approach to the L shaped fleld, set in pine woods, over the old port area (updraughts), then over the tidal river (downdraughts) and immediateiy on to the runway (updraughts), all in a crosswind, seemed to last far too long-to say nothing of having to keep eyes upwards as well as forwards looking out for Silver City freighter aircraft dropping through the cloud. We were coming in witltout radio. (If you want to tangle with a Frenchman on VHF radio you can-but not us !) and no signals mean O.K. in France. The freighters, incidentally, bring tourists's cars to and fro between England and France -non-stop dawn to dusk, and they land, turn rou.nd and take off again in about ten minutes flat. They don't like being kept waiting for light planes on 60 m.ph. approaches ! seas, passing Berck-sur-Mer where there used to be a particuiarly active, but not particularly accurate, anti-aircraft battery, now a little holiday resort again, Le Treport famous for the German's "Abbeville Boys" flghter squadron, Dieppe, scene of bloody fiighting and so on past wrecks of tanks and ships half buried in the sand, to Le Havre at the mouth of the Seine, over 100 miles downstream from Paris. On over the wide estuary and on the shore at the far side is Deauville with the airfleld set in orchards on a hill top away from the town. Martin set her down, as it was now 'l p.m., we decided on a drink and a stretch.

One thing about France-you certainly know you are there. From the moment the little man with the beret asks "Essence monsieur?", you never forget it. There is atmosphere, a smell even, compounded of French cigarettes, French lavatories, French men and women, French cooking-everything French-it's wonderful ! Filled with this "joie de vivre", w€ called to report at the tower and clear customs. French customs give no trouble at all to genuine tourists, but like Customs offi.cials anywhere they neither look happy to see you come nor sad to see go.

Formalities completed, we filed for our next destination-Deauville. The French met. boys warned us of active cumulus all the way, so we decided to fly all the way there off shore to avoid the met. report to show you understand it ! Anyone who thinks "the French all speak English" is in for a shock.

We took off and beat it under the clouds along the river to the open sea again and then swung south to follow the coastline about a quarter of a mile off shore. Any R.A.F. types will remember this coast as a particularly "hot" one. To-day it dreams in the sunshine, but scars are still visible. Bomb craters show in beach and field and gun emplacements of the German's "Atlantic Wall" are still intact.

The next leg was to Dinard/St. Malo, about 150 miles but, when we went to file our plan, the controllor lmet. man shook his head and said "I speak wiz my colleague at Dinard". This is a good time to mention the French telephone system. If you speak French like a native, O.K. but, if like me, you can only mutter in the language, the;r keep off the phone. If anything can make strong men weep, it is the French telephone. To get back to the story. The met. man after ten minutes delay and many many "e11o's" got througlt to "Jacques" at Dinard. Jacques was evidently a very dear friend and, whilst the clock went five, ten, fifteen minutes, the health of Marie, Paul, Jean, Henri, Pierre, Louis, Georges, Maurice, Charles and Francois was sought after. Finally, as an aside, we got what we wanted to know-"Dinard, she is closed", then after another five minutes excited conversation, "till tomorrow." Well, the sun was going down, the sky was blue, the sea was blue, it had been an almost perfect day of flying and the prospect of a night in Deauville was good enough. We had a taxi down the hill into town, settled in a hotel and set out to find French food. Next the Casino and finally to bed.

The morning was grey with cloud about 100 ft. coming in off the sea. We got to the fleld about 9 a.m. and started the coffee drinking routine anrl, talking to the very charming lady in the cafe to whom everything was "Tr6s

Popular Flyins, Marchl April, 196O jolie". By 10 a.m. it looked better, by 10.15 we decided to go, by 10.30 you couldn't see across the fl:ld again. By 10.45 it was better again. We tock off to follow the met. man's advice to keep to the coast once again as the hills on the direct track were in cloud. We were now flying very low along the cliffs and bsaches packed with shell craters still with their evidence of the invasion. wrecked ships, the Mulberry harbour still there cast uo on the shore, past Lion-sur-Mer, Caen, Arroma*tches, the scenes of the blood spilled for the very freedom we were enjoying. Finally, as the clouds began to lift a little, the tip of the Cherbourg peninsula came into view and we swung south again over the necli of land arnd into the Bay of Biscay at last. We still sta-ved close to the coast as the cloud had not yet risen above 500 ft., ald rain sclualls were now driving in ofi the sea. Nearing Dinard, however, we swung low down and around Mont. St. Michel, a mysterious pinnacle of rock rising out of the sea with a monastery on top, surrounded by a fringe of picturesque houses, looking like an illustration from a fairy story. A long causeway runs to the land at low tide. Strangely, there is an almost exact replica of this place, situation and everything, huirdreds of rniles away in Cornwall, called St. Michael's Mount ! From here to Dinard was only a few minutes flying time, and then we cculd see the delightful anchorage guarded at its mouth by the twin towns of Dinard and St. Malo, one on each side. It is a wonderful sight from the air, with yachts leaning against the wind amongst the wooded islands, and on the far side the airfield. There were actually a few sunbeams too, just to paint the colours a little brighter. Martin took her in, tc an aoparently deserted field. The French love and admire flying in a way unknown in England, but the pilot is always left to get on with it. If you don't get a green you go on in and land anyway, the red is the only colour. they expect you to react to. We had a leisurely lunch here and then filed for the final leg to La Baule, which is known as Escoublac by the

Popular Flying, MarchlApril, 196O

French, just to make things more interesting ! So far navigation had been non-existent, simply a matter of flying along the coast of Normandy and trying to make the mao flt the picture. The cloud base had now risen to 1,000 ft., and so we could at last try the compass out. However the wind had rise: to about 30 knots at that height, and this leg turned out to be the worst of the lot. We were to fly south over the Brest peninsula, and although the highest ground was 800 feet the gap proved to be rather less in squalls, and led to quite a bit of bucketing about looking for dimples in the tops of hills. The scenery, which should have been magnificent in any other weather, was composed mainly of small flelds, all too small for forced landings-or if not they had a tree in the middle, and this has a very depressing efiect after a time. But by this time the squalls and wind had forced us to reduce speed to avoid overstressing the airframe anyway. We finally crossed the River Vilaine, and there, across the coastal marsh, was La

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Baule, and just around the corner the estuary of the River Loire. I think we made altogether f,ve circuits of the fleld whilst squalls lashed across, and the speed on the downwind leg of the landing was something to remember, but we soon lost all that when we once got her turned into wind ! The sodden grass field didn't seem to want us to land there either, but we flnally persuaded the plane and the field to stay together. We put the plane away and were then absorbed into the hospitality of the Rally. Glasses of wine and handshakes all round with the hosts from the local aero club, and then transport down to the hotel in La Baule. A sumptous apartment suite in L'Hermitage Hotel, a full flve star place, and straight into a hot bath. Then the dinner for that evening, held in the hotel restaurant. This turned out to be one of those affairs which lasted fairly late, including all the line shooting, and, by the time it was over, it was time for the Casino to open and so we went there, followed by some night bathing for the water was warm after the day's sun. (It had shone there !)

The following day brought the weather down lower still which was a pity as the whole thing was completely out of character. Later in the day as the front cleared, we investigated the charming town of La Baule-a very respectable high class French resort and the even more attractive holiday port next to it called Le Pouliguen. We then hired a small French car and took in St. Nazaire as well. Although St. Nazaire really is a naval port, the whole town has been almost entirely rebuilt since the war ! The French rarely talk about it, but their suffering during the last war must have been terrible in places like this with almost incessant bombing as well as having to slave under the Germans.

Later that evening the dinner was held .in the Casino and was a splendid occasion, concluding with a firework display in the gardens and, when finally all the lights in the dining room were extinguished, cascades of flreworks were set off from the roof giving the impression of being inside a waterfall .of coloured fire. A marvellous show. Then on to the tables again in the Casino which exercise a kind of fascination for some people-me amongst them. There are, however, no one armed bandits. No Las Vegas this !

The following day, Sunday, we decided to go to Paris as the weather had cleared and was perfect by then. We took off at 11.00 after having the brakes adjusted and filed for Le Mans. A smocth enjoyable trip across the seemingly endless unchanging plain of France, past Chateaubriand arrd with the valley of the Lcire visible on the starboard wing. Finally to Le Mans with the flrst hint of thunderstorms showing ahead. Le Mans race week had finished just before we arrived and the whole place had a desolate air. No one had cleared up the paper and rubbish and the race track was clearly defined by a srowstorm effect all the way round. We had a low run round the race circuit-nothing like so fast as the cars though-- and then in to land. Le Mans is about the worst looking airfreld you can imagine, but it is there and you can use it cheaply as and how you wish so it is no use complaining. We had lunch in a cafe on the field. We were unexpected and took the lunch that the local airfield staff had-l}l- for the two of us. They tell you France is expensive !

We refuelled and left at 2 p.m. for Paris with a warning of thunderstorms ahead. On the 100 mile trip we must have gone around twenty of them, dark ugly thunderheads, just waiting to eat iittle aeroplanes ! We squeezed in betrveen two which had just decided to amalgamate, which we will never do again, and finally straight ahead was the biggest single thunderstorm we have ever seen and Martin has some twenty years flying to look back on.

This monster was sitting slap on top of the cathedral city of Chartres-or so we believed -because you certainly couldn't see it and we do pride ourselves on our navigation. Everywhere else around was in sunshine and as we particularly wanted to low level photograph the cathedral, we edged a little closer in smooth

Popular Flying, MarchlApril, 196O still air. By this time we could look almost straight up to the anvil-probably 20,000 feet by now. Then for some inexplicable reason a dense black roll of cloud seemed to spring from the edge about five miles off and close on us at a fantastic rate. The engine, ailerons, rudder and elevator caught on quickly, as we had, and a tight 180 slowly but, oh so slowly began to put a little sunshine between us and that spar cracker on our tail ! We must have gone twenty miles before it was even safe to turn and go round it again and we could only think that the whole damn thing must have collapsed nearly on top of us. When we flnally got round the back of it, the edges of the city were emerging from the deluge into white sunshine and the fields of crops were flattened in a damp path where it had passed. By this time the compass was acting like a record player so we decided to travel by our favourite railroad method for a while until things calmed down.

Soon Paris was in sight, and what a sight ! Set in a natural saucer of hills, the city seems to blend into woods and green expanses in a way no other city does. Our destination field, Toussous Le Noble is set on the outer fringe of the city-almost on the top of the Palace of Versailles which, from the air, looks like an enormous iced cake.

However, it is not too easy to flnd your particular field as Paris is absolutely pockmarked with them-mostly uncharted. The River Seine, strangely enough, is hardly ever visible until you are right overhead and probably because of the woods, so you need to keep a close check on your last few minutes of flying time. Joining the pattern at Toussus can be fun. On this afternoon, there were four 'copters on training flights and a swarn of light planes milling around-ore of them with a dead engine-which we noticed when nearly too late ! We finally muscled in ard what should we flnd on the park but six Catalinas. And we thought they had all been boiled up for soup for sailors !

Hangaring was generously provided free in Popular Flying, MarchlApril, 1960 a hangar owned by Boisavia-a plane manufacturer-and a free lift to Versailles with a French doctor enthusiast who owned one of their planes-a giant four place high wing job that should, on inspection, be capable of standing almost any punishment.

Then a couple of days in Paris, over which a discreet veil may be drawn, and f,nally one sunny morning we hired a cab out via Versailles to the field and began to dig out the Dalton and the maDS for our trip. Having heard and signed the met. report, we took ofi for Le Touquet again and, with a last look at Versailles and Paris (over which it is forbidden to fly) we sat back for a fairly uninteresting trip across rural France to the coast. Le Tcluquet was, as is so often the case, enjoying a 300 foot cloud base again, so we eased in without turbulence this time and sat down to lunch. Once again the sun broke through and when we asked the met. men for the English Channel weather, we were told "perfect 12 miles visibility." So we cleared Customs, paid our dues, took off in between freighters and headed for the sea. Half a mile out from the French coast, we were on instruments and had to stay like that until the English coast loomed up. The man must have meant L2 metres. Then English Customs again at Lymp:re and we took off for home.

Harald Penrose, well known as Chief Test Pilot for Westland's for many years has now had his Currie Wot fitted with a 55 b.h.p. Lycoming in place of the JAP. J. 99 previously fitted and which decided to rid itself of its prop at an inopportune moment.

Talking of Currie Wots highlights the historical 'first ever' propjet ultra light aircraft which Was the Mikron engined Hot Wot converted to take a Rover industrial gas turbine. Of course Viv Bellamy who was behind the whole thing was surrounded by those who told him that it just could not be done, particularly with a fixed pitch prop. Well it could and was and from this truly amateur step forward has arisen sufficient interest to encourage manufacterers to think about an aircraft unit. The possibilities are atffactive, an engine running like a dynamo with no need for the ever present tinkering, at least not for 1,000 hours, ninety horse and probably seven gallons an hour, at abor.lt 8,000 feet, of cheap fuel. Development is continuing, we hope to see it at the Rally this year.

We have news that Marcel Jurca who built the rugged little Ternpete single seat aerobatic aircraft is now engaged on a tandem two seater on similar lines with a fashionable swept lin, retractable undercarriage and end plates on the wing. The name-Sirocco, engine 90 bhp Continental. A single seat version of the Sirocco is to be called the "Ombre" or Shadow.

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