I once had an interesting radio problem in Poland which meant husband and me flying home to France NORDO.
The radio would transmit and receive most of the time on a ground test, maybe even just after takeoff, but at some point in the flight would decide to only receive. Usually it would work again after landing. At that time we didn't have a transponder or working handheld, so when we and a team of Polish engineers failed to diagnose the problem decided to return home at a weekend, which reduced the amount of controlled airspace in our path. In a cub it's a two day trip even if the weather is perfect, so we planned to nightstop at the German border on Friday night, then with reasonable luck get home on Saturday. As no battle plan survives first contact with the enemy, that didn't quite happen. Bautzen were happy to take us for a fuel stop, and file flight plan by phone as far as the French border, stopping at a small airfield that had a campsite. So we wove a path between any zones that required radio contact, duly fell down on the western side of Germany, and set up the tent. Nice sunny day, forecast same again until early evening next day. Saturday morning dawned foggy. Hmmm. Phone Nancy Essey and explain our problem, and that was fine, just phone when leaving, but the front is now expected late afternoon. OK, we can do that as long as the fog clears in time. Which it did, so file by phone and off across thé endless pine forests from the border, crossing into France somewhere or other. Flat terrain, and a flat looking sky. Until the flat sky threw a lot of water onto our not entirely leak proof aircraft. By now we are getting a little concerned, having passed our diversion airfields with another forty minutes or so to run. Ok, lots of nice big fields if necessary, and if the cloudbase got much lower it might become an option. Obviously we were going to be later than we thought, as now the traffic on the minor roads was going faster than we were. Also the front had got a bit of a move on, and met us half way. Still plenty of fuel and daylight, which was good. Listen out on airfield frequency, visual navigation in the still good visibility.
Just as I was starting to seriously consider the possible merits of a field landing next to a pub, Nancy info call us. They would like one click for yes, two for no...
That we can do, as carrier wave was working. We were actually pretty well on track, surprising really considering the wind which bore no relation at all to the forecast. And no wé didn't have a GPS, this was back in the dark ages when they cost very serious money. So three clicks every time we wanted a QDM, and they were turning on all the lights as bright as they would go.
Another good thing, as it was getting pretty dark five hours before sunset. The lightning in the distance was another clue that we should be landing ASAP.
After about ten years a runway appeared in front of us, cleared to land number one. Three bounces later we stopped, still on the runway, a good thing. Not my best ever landing, I admit. At least if I'd chosen a field I wouldn't have had an audience.
ah well. We were given taxi instructions that put us just outside a door to the admin buildings and invited to run, not walk, inside. Still got soaked.
By the time we had got an updated met briefing ( which used to happen face to face in an office, given by a human being) the cub had been pushed into a heated hangar next to a beech staggerwing . Improvement expected by Thursday, and would we like a lift to a hotel? Yes please. Do you have a train timetable for tomorrow, and how much do we owe you? Train timetable found, and you can pay when you collect. Next weekend with decent weather, which was three weeks later, we turned up in a club DR 400 and paid the staggering cost of about six euros for the DR 400 landing, plus whatever the fuel cost was to fill up the cub. Returned NORDO to Chauvigny with the cub, husband flying. I got back rather faster in the DR 400. The radio problem turned out to be some rubbed insulation in a wire in the rear stick that was shorting intermittently to the metal stick. The truly sad part of this rambling tale is that the retrieve was the longest flight that anyone did that year in the club aircraft.