Old favourite
Happy days… During these tough times thoughts turn to some of our favourite fly outs. Duncan Campbell shares one of his favourites, and looks to the future when the freedom to fly returns…
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hose of a certain generation will no doubt recognise the line ‘…you don’t know what you’ve got ‘till it’s gone’ from the Joni Mitchell song Big Yellow Taxi. Not being able to fly at the moment does, like absence of friends and loved ones, make the heart grow fonder and I hope, like me, you are able to relish the memories of favourite flights as you look forward to once again having the freedom to fly. I hope you enjoy my favourite ‘local’ as much as I’m sure you enjoy your own. Approaching the strip along the rutted track, the only living creatures in evidence are the resident horses, Tiger, Amber and Rosa, barely acknowledging my arrival from their loose boxes. To them, I suppose, I am just another regular human who they recognise is neither going to feed, groom nor exercise them, so barely worth a whinny or the toss of a mane. It is 7.30am, the sun is up, but the air is cold and the grass is wet with dew. I drive slowly down the apron and then along the runway favoured by the wind. Good, no detritus. Although I have never found anything untoward here, runway checking at a previous home for us had on more than one occasion yielded branches, rabbit corpses and once, a headless sheep. Today, there’s thankfully only grass, which could do with a trim before too long. The handle of the hangar door is cold and, in the quiet of the morning the squeak and juddering of the doors as they concertina back against their frame seems loud enough to wake the dead. Mustn’t forget to hook them back to stop them creeping back along the track in any breeze; for some of us the wingspan clearance is measured in inches and the slightest narrowing presents a hazard.
Somewhere near the front…
Great, I’m in luck, there’s only one aircraft in front of me. It could have been much worse. There are seven operational aircraft in the big hangar and the convention is to let Jack know if we plan to fly, so that we can be chalked on the board and hopefully end up somewhere near the front when we arrive. Having had no plans to fly until late last night, too late to let anyone know, meant it really is pure luck that I’m not right at the back! In pole position is one of our sister Luscombes. She is easy to pull out and manoeuvre to one side on the small concrete apron. It would be a different matter if there were several to
Above Duncan uses the convenient pump equipped steps to fuel up the Luscombe before his early morning flight.
move because we are then parking to one side of the grass taxiway and, at this time of the year with wet grass and slightly soft ground, it’s not an easy task for a single person. I roll Mike India onto the apron and chock the tailwheel. Looking at her on the apron always gives me a little rush of adrenalin. She looks so purposeful, and the urge to just leap in and go at this point is strong. There was a time when pre-flight checking seemed an irritant, something tedious that had to be done, but these days it is enjoyed in an almost zen-like calm, an opportunity to admire the beauty of her construction and check all the little signs of ageing, as well as attending to the ‘must-do’ tasks before flight. Today, all is as it should be, although the oil needs topping up and our simple but foolproof hardwood dipstick shows there is not quite enough fuel on board to allow a good enough margin for a safe flight. To one side of the hangar, where the roof slopes low, is a hay store where we keep our refuelling steps. At some time or other they were in daily use in a
40 | LIGHT AVIATION | May 2020
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23/04/2020 16:20
