rtfm
Well-Known Member
Hi folks,
I had the best time on Saturday. I got a call from Alan (HITC) to join him on a car trip down to Evan's Head (about 220k South of Brisbane) to visit the annual fly-in there. Suitably armed with water, packed lunch, GPS, prophelactic medications and emergency numbers (after all, it is south of the border in wild New South Wales territory
), we headed out to pick up another mate on the way down there.
Evans Head Memorial Aerodrome is approximately 1 km (0.62 mi) north of the village. During World War II it was Royal Australian Air Force (RAAF) Base Evans Head housing the RAAF No 1 Bombing and Gunnery School; and the RAAF No 1 Air Observers School.At the height of operations it supported three asphalt runways and one grass strip. The entire airport is listed on the NSW State Heritage Register. Today the runways are still mostly intact, but tufts of grass have largely taken over at least one of the runways I inspected.
When we got there, I was surprised to see so many stalls set up, selling food, trinkets, more food, and (of course) joy-rides in a Mustang, a gyro, a Drifter, some warbirds, and even a great lumbering yellow Anatov AN-2.
The highlight of the day was when Alan organised a quick flight piloted by an aerobatic ace friend of his in a Drifter. (See below for an example of this heart-pounding flying aluminum tube...)
It all started out pretty innocently, execpt that as we picked up speed (I was in the back seat, clinging on for dear life strapped in as tightly as I could manage with a screaming 2-stroke a few inches from my eardrums), the aircraft seemed to career erratically all over the runway as it averaged itself forward. After what seemed an age, we finally lifted off and the plane stopped its Brownian motion. Only to start flying sideways. Bloody hell - it has been a long time since I went flying, and my first time strapped into a seat perched on top of a pole exposed to the elements.
After we'd climbed out, I suddenly found myself in control. I definitely hadn't expected that. A few gentle turns, and "This baby needs lots of rudder, mate" blurted over the hearphones. And in 20 seconds I learned all I needed to know about adverse yaw and the role of the rudder, as I was treated to first the stick hard left onto the stops with no rudder input, and then the stick hard over to the right again with no rudder. Then again, this time with rudder inputs. Voila. Better than any words could explain.
I spent the next few minutes turning harder and harder, with plenty of rudder inputs. I was feeling quite chuffed with myself. Till I had my little safety cuccoon completely distroyed with "Don't be scared to throw her around a bit..." in my ears. Next thing I knew we were climbing nearly vertically, and then the world sort of turned upside down as we plunged to our doom over the ocean. "I managed to stall the left wing-tip on that one..." my earphones said as though to comforrt me. Strangely... it didn't.
Our landing was pretty calm and placid, we touched down, the Brownian Motion started again as the little plane jumped all over the place. And then careered off wildly to the left. And I mean WILDLY. This time I could feel the rudder pedals sawing away frantically. And then it was over. We rolled to a stop. "Bloody helicopter hovering just to the right there off the runway..."
All in all, one of the most exciting times of my recent life. Thanks Alan. The Drifter is quite a plane...
The rest of the day was spent getting burnt in the merciless sun, talking to a few builders about their planes, having Alan point out some of the nicities of design and build features of some of the planes, asking questions of the owners, and generally chewing the flying cud. Brilliant.
I have arrived home with a renewed enthusiasm to get the little Razorback flying. I would just LOVE to fly there next year. Well, maybe the year after next...
Cheers,
Duncan
I had the best time on Saturday. I got a call from Alan (HITC) to join him on a car trip down to Evan's Head (about 220k South of Brisbane) to visit the annual fly-in there. Suitably armed with water, packed lunch, GPS, prophelactic medications and emergency numbers (after all, it is south of the border in wild New South Wales territory
), we headed out to pick up another mate on the way down there.Evans Head Memorial Aerodrome is approximately 1 km (0.62 mi) north of the village. During World War II it was Royal Australian Air Force (RAAF) Base Evans Head housing the RAAF No 1 Bombing and Gunnery School; and the RAAF No 1 Air Observers School.At the height of operations it supported three asphalt runways and one grass strip. The entire airport is listed on the NSW State Heritage Register. Today the runways are still mostly intact, but tufts of grass have largely taken over at least one of the runways I inspected.
When we got there, I was surprised to see so many stalls set up, selling food, trinkets, more food, and (of course) joy-rides in a Mustang, a gyro, a Drifter, some warbirds, and even a great lumbering yellow Anatov AN-2.
The highlight of the day was when Alan organised a quick flight piloted by an aerobatic ace friend of his in a Drifter. (See below for an example of this heart-pounding flying aluminum tube...)
It all started out pretty innocently, execpt that as we picked up speed (I was in the back seat, clinging on for dear life strapped in as tightly as I could manage with a screaming 2-stroke a few inches from my eardrums), the aircraft seemed to career erratically all over the runway as it averaged itself forward. After what seemed an age, we finally lifted off and the plane stopped its Brownian motion. Only to start flying sideways. Bloody hell - it has been a long time since I went flying, and my first time strapped into a seat perched on top of a pole exposed to the elements.
After we'd climbed out, I suddenly found myself in control. I definitely hadn't expected that. A few gentle turns, and "This baby needs lots of rudder, mate" blurted over the hearphones. And in 20 seconds I learned all I needed to know about adverse yaw and the role of the rudder, as I was treated to first the stick hard left onto the stops with no rudder input, and then the stick hard over to the right again with no rudder. Then again, this time with rudder inputs. Voila. Better than any words could explain.
I spent the next few minutes turning harder and harder, with plenty of rudder inputs. I was feeling quite chuffed with myself. Till I had my little safety cuccoon completely distroyed with "Don't be scared to throw her around a bit..." in my ears. Next thing I knew we were climbing nearly vertically, and then the world sort of turned upside down as we plunged to our doom over the ocean. "I managed to stall the left wing-tip on that one..." my earphones said as though to comforrt me. Strangely... it didn't.
Our landing was pretty calm and placid, we touched down, the Brownian Motion started again as the little plane jumped all over the place. And then careered off wildly to the left. And I mean WILDLY. This time I could feel the rudder pedals sawing away frantically. And then it was over. We rolled to a stop. "Bloody helicopter hovering just to the right there off the runway..."
All in all, one of the most exciting times of my recent life. Thanks Alan. The Drifter is quite a plane...
The rest of the day was spent getting burnt in the merciless sun, talking to a few builders about their planes, having Alan point out some of the nicities of design and build features of some of the planes, asking questions of the owners, and generally chewing the flying cud. Brilliant.
I have arrived home with a renewed enthusiasm to get the little Razorback flying. I would just LOVE to fly there next year. Well, maybe the year after next...
Cheers,
Duncan
