After flying up into the mountains for a hike in the Frank Church River of No Return Wilderness we were planning on flying to a small mountain town for dinner. Due to warming temperatures we had a hard time gaining altitude. After taking off we hit an air pocket that made us rapidly loose altitude, pushing us down into the trees.
Hot and high, four big blokes on board, not aborting the takeoff when it is fairly obvious that the aircraft is struggling, not putting it back down on the deck when he could, initiating a turn at low altitude and airspeed and not making use of the flaps to have a fighting chance of not stalling............
What can one say ?
PS I forgot looking at your iPad and not looking out of the cockpit as you fly into a tree.
Ibbie, you have just stirred up a problem in my head.
When you mentioned Foxhunter/Llewllyn it reminded me of a time, about 40 years ago, when I regularly used to go out with my Dad on a Saturday lunchtime. We weould have a bet on the ITV 7 and a couple of pints and game of crib down the club. When you mentioned Foxhunter I remembered it as one of the horses my father regularly used to have a bet on - then realised very quickly that it wasn't that one at all. But there was a horse, in the 60s, owned by an Army officer (a Captain I think, but I'm not sure, which was the other connection made). It was raced over the jumps and won quite often, despite (rather than being assisted by) its jockey. The owner always rode it himself , as an amateur(I remember him as being very tall and lanky), and dad always used to say that if he had let a professional ride it it would have been unbeatable. And I simply cannot remember the name of the horse (or the rider).
A smilie to anyone who recognises it from that description (and you will have earnt it).
MadsDad-Can't help you with the horse's name, but in a similar vein I have a horsey story: Back in the early 70s I worked in Belgrave Square and the Horse of the Year Show shared the same building. Harvey Smith had just given the judges the finger (actually there were two of them, fingers not judges that is) and he was being torn a new one at a hearing in our building. The building had a magnificent staircase which I used to use rather than the death trap of a lift. As I swung around the landing I was met with blinding flashes from the photographers who were waiting for Harvey to appear. They were very disappointed to have wasted film and flash bulbs on a scrawny 16 year old.
The Hill from Hell has been defeated once more. One gets no pleasure from the victory. Visit to the GP in the morn for a hats on interview with respect to high lipid levels. It's been a wonderful evening for biking. Should I win the Euro Lottery zillions my first act will be to have a cycle lift installed from my local to home.
The weight, altitude and temp issue is a very serious one.
I took my brother, his gf and a mate from Oribi airport in SA in a 172 on a very hot Feb afternoon. We took 90% of the runway to get off the ground and I kept the climb rate very shallow for as long as poss. Our total weight was within limits but it was a close one as there was no wind either
With regards the vid you posted I reckon he should have put her down when he reallised it was close to the limits
"I thought it smelt hot and was making a funny noise." ('erself's comments after the drive belt snapped on the tumble dryer.) (And why a dryer's needed this weather I don't know. Trainers can dry at the bottom of the airing cupboard. Mumble mumble)
Anyway, new belt arrived this a.m. Disassembled without a scratch to my person - I hate self-tapping screws. Needed a 30 cm screwdriver to lever the belt back onto the motor shaft, then the strength of 10 to get the drum re-engaged with the crude bearing surfaces on the door. Reassembled, again no scratches. Plugged back in, turned it on.
And it doesn't work.
I reckon I musta pulled a spade connector off the door switch.