The Aldernay Flyin 2000 and a flight through France.

Its seems years ago that we admired a pristine Spitfire at Headcorn after a perfect flight back across the channel.

In fact it was just a few wet months ago.

At 06.00 on the 8^th of June Pete Sutton and myself set off for the airfield prepared for a weeks holiday starting with a visit to the annual Aldernay flyin. Not for the weak hearted we had decided to go the direct route and optimistically had picked a 15.00 slot on the Friday afternoon as our arrival time. The lashing rain eventually stopped at about 08.30 and was immediately followed by a thick clag which seemed to start at about 150ft and halted any intention to fly. The morning was whiled away sorting out survival equipment, increasing our girth in McDonalds and even purchasing fluorescent waistcoats for use on the airfield at Aldernay, an Health and Safety requirement apparently.

By 14.00 we were beginning to get really fed up and returned to Abergavenny for a bit more shopping but holes in the clouds set us scurrying back to the field where conditions remained the same.

Spurred on by the blue sky at Abergavenny we rigged, installed the compulsory LiLos in the wing and persuaded ourselves that the weather would improve the further south we were. Conditions did improve adequately to set off at about 16.00 and we were soon on our way

Besides full camping equipment, a spare pair of shreddies each, video camera equipment and all the other encumbrances of holiday flying we also carried a survival suit and lifejacket each, an Emergency location transmitter and flares.

God knows how we got those fluorescent jackets in.

Conditions improved around the Severn and we had excellent visibility down across Warminster but the low clouds returned at the New Forest and the trip from then on as was mainly at 500 ft until we reached our first stop, Sandown.

Although all paperwork was for a flight across to Aldernay that afternoon it was clear that few had been able to make it that day and it would have been irresponsible to set off late in the day across 73 miles of open water at 500 feet. There was also a reasonable headwind to compete with and so, having checked that our special branch clearance would hold good for the following day, we put the tent up and proceeded to the nearest watering hole.

The following morning the conditions were vastly improved, albeit still with a slight headwind, and so having dined at the local Safeways, we struggled into the suits and lifejackets, tested the ELT and set off for St Catherine’s Head and the wild blue yonder.

It was shortly after leaving the land that we were to discover that the radio was next to useless over a distance of any greater than 10 miles, subsequently traced to a faulty power interface, and consequently the hour and 30 min flight over water was mainly in radio silence (Well we could hear them but they couldn’t hear us).

About 2000 yachts told us that the annual round the Island race was underway but once we had covered about 10 miles we saw very little but sea for over an hour. The route took us direct from the Isle of Wight to Cap de La Hague, on the North West tip of the Cherbourg peninsula, and we had hoped to cut the corner and slip straight across to Aldernay. The very enthusiastic ATC were having none of it and insisted that we circle with all the other hundreds of light aircraft (3 actually) at the Cap until it was our turn and, despite all my pleading, only allowed us to start out for the island when there was 11 miles of aircraft free air between us.

Arrival at Aldernay showed us to be the only Microlight present but provoked only passing interest. We secured the wing firmly to the ground stowed all unwanted equipment into the Trike and then set off for an afternoon of crawling from pub to pub with Pete’s cousin Judith and her husband Mario. They also put us up for the evening and fed and watered us well.

We attended the evening dinner put on by the Captain Ralph Burridge of the Aldernay flying club. Good food, drink and as many cups and prizes as you could shake a stick at, even a cup for the idiot who landed in the wrong direction on the main runway but guess what, no mention of the microlighters who, unlike many of the “proper aeroplanes” had not taken the safe way across via Dover/Cap Gris Nez.

One big mistake had been not filling in customs and special branch forms, for a departure to a non customs field in France on arrival. This should be done with 24 hrs notice. Then again that would have been a day more for them to come and chuck us off.

Having given the required 3 hrs notice of departure and waited patiently, that ATC again, we fired up the engine and were immediately told that Cherbourg (the only field with customs and hence no requirement for 24 hrs notice) would like us to give them a ring.

“You are a ULM and you must write a letter to the Airfield manager who will let you come in 5 days time”

Swiftly filled in new flight plan to non customs field, copy of special branch form filled into same effect and dropped down the back of the Fax machine “We thought we faxed it yesterday governor” and off we set for Granville in a freshening and bumpy wind. I resisted the challenge to call up Brest information and ask them how big they were.

Reckoning the faster we could get in and out of Granville the better so a quick pit stop and on again for La Fleche, home of Leading Edge Aviation, near the Loire. Slight diversion down to Mont St Michel, not forgetting that there is an exclusion area to stop all those nasty ULMs on photographic trips, and then down to one of the longest grass strips you will ever see and a very pleasant evening in the company of Reg Whittle, his partner Randy and a student Mike.

Reg owns a large former hunting lodge called the Le Pidgeonaire and it really is a sort of Hello Hello chateau with loads of rooms and large bell on the roof for calling the huntsman for lunch. Pete couldn’t resist pulling this on every occasion . He also failed to hear Reg ask us not to try the large water pump attached to the well because there was a bird nesting in it. C’est la vie!

Next day we set off with the intention of flying down to MontPezat, a mainly ULM airfield which seemed to be very active. We stopped for dinner at Angouleme and after a siesta set of into the dying thermals for Mont Pezat.

As we approached the airfield it appeared to be completely dead and so a quick look at the maps and on for Aire sur l’adour some 60 mile further, pretty well in spitting distance of the Pyrenees and well known to us from our previous adventures. Due to tremendous and unprecedented Snow storms in the Pyrenees the Garonne and Adour were flooded badly and there was considerable damage to the towns and villages we passed

Once again this airfield turned up trumps with superb hospitality culminating in an invitation to the Bank holiday party in the club house, free oysters till they came out your ears, free camping and access to the municipal sports centre changing rooms for use of the toilets and showers.

The following day the weather was not brilliant so we spent the morning in town inspecting the flood damage and watching the Sapeurs Pompier pumping water out of the Bullring in preparation for the annual Bullfight. I took one of the local flyers for a jolly around the area and then Pete and myself had a 3 hour flight around the foothills of the Pyrenees including crossing straight over Pau airfield. The Pyranees ATC were very helpful but having started to talk to them it was very difficult to stray too far into the various TMAs and so we returned to Aire sur L’adour for another evening.

The following morning we packed up and set off for a small airfield in the Dordogne from where we had intended to cadge a lift to Brian Milton’s french house and spend a day or 2. However very low cloud soon put paid to that idea and over an hour was spent hopping over the woods of Marsan at times down to just about 75 ft. Not very pleasant and a bit of an error. Eventually a dead end valley and a near white out sent us scurrying back the way we had come and then turning up the Garonne we limped into Marmande airfield where we stayed most of the day until the sun broke through.

We then decided that La Rochelle would be a good bet but having discovered that they required advanced warning of ULMs and failing to contact them by phone we set off anyway.

It was gone 21.00 by the time we got within radio contact of La Rochelle. I studiously avoided telling them we were a ULM but with a 15 mile an hour headwind slowing us down it is surprising that it was only on final they twigged. Even then I managed to stall them for another few minutes by replying “Huntwing” in response to there request for aircraft type. Begrudgingly we were allowed to land and then realised that this is a fairly busy regional airfield. We were not allowed to camp and realised that this was a slight mistake when a massive Merc taxi pulled up to take us out of town to the only available accommodation. The £25 bill for the Taxi and subsequent lack of supper due to the lateness of the hour did little to endear La Rochelle to us. Somewhere in the back of mind I was concerned that this may have been a little too public an airfield to bring a British registered ULM at a time when it was widely reported that the British were being fined for daring to fly in France. I also thought we would be stung overnight charges and astronomic landing fees.

We returned to the airfield by bus the following day, which took us about 2 hours with 2 changes but was only £3. All my concerns were unfounded and we refuelled alongside a regional jet and paid up sans landing and parking ”No charge if you buy fuel”.

Never the less I was relieved to be away and on course for La Fleche. I had told Reg to leave the sheets in as we might be back and besides the problems of a completely split inner tube on landing the trip was very enjoyable. We ate and dined at the chateau and stayed up talking to the small hours.

The following day we set off after a light lunch, there was no rush, and avoiding Le Mans, we routed into Bernay a small airfield in Normandy where, on a previous occasion, I was so unjustly accused of exposing myself to the restaurant but that’s another story. There was very little activity here, save for one pilot who seemed to be giving 10 minute flights to every schoolchild in the vicinity, and we had to wait several hours before we could refuel. With time going on we set up camp and set into the local cider at the airfield Motel.

Early next morning we flew upto Abbeville, filed a flight plan, squeezed into the survival suits and then set off home by the straight line method which is Le Touquet/Dungeness. This gives 40 miles of water but cuts off about 1hr 30mins of flight.

So we are back at the beginning ogling every type of flying activity as only Headcorn can provide. The wind and thermal activity was powerful all day and so we delayed our final flight until late afternoon.

The story finishes with a late 3 hour flight straight back to Hereford and some of the only turbulence of the week about 10 miles from home. The landing was into a strong and unpleasant wind and required 3 passes to clear the sheep. I gather that flying was poor all the time we were away and that conditions on the day we returned had been unsuitable all day for local flying.

We paid no landing fees at any airfield we visited in France. We were welcomed everywhere we went and the fuel was also cheaper this year in France than the UK.

On this trip the BMW engine proved very reliable, averaged 12L/H at 55MPH and coped beautifully with Avgas.

I enjoyed it so much I went again in September but that story has a different ending. Watch here for the next instalment.

John