Some may already have read this, it's the second bit of a trip to France I made at the end of 2000, with 100hrs under my belt.
"We were, of course, as usual, time pressured. Customs were not present on
the field, the restaurant was closed, but we needed fuel and we needed to
hurry. Prunay is self-service fuel, with a card and a PIN you get from
reception. I sprinted across to push the 172 into position, filled both
tanks to the top, sprinted back, waited and fumed while the receptionist's
computer crashed and failed to issue an invoice, then shooed the family
across the apron to get them loaded.
Calm, calm, calm. I collected my thoughts while I went down the checklist
and almost got to engine start when I realised that the wing would clout
the fuel hut if I let it move. So down I got, pushed shoved and grunted
until it was clear, remounted and hurried down the checklist again. Got
taxi clearance, got to the hold, and during the taxi something, somewhere
was rattling. It occurred at specific engine revs, and seemed to be
directly above me. I couldn't believe I hadn't secured the fuel cap
properly, but the moment it occurred to me that I hadn't - well, I just had
to shut down and check.
Nothing visible, all looked and felt good, so I re-re-mounted and belted
through some sort of checklist to startup, power check, vital actions, and
call ready for departure in hardly any time. We took off at 15:00, we had
90 minutes ahead of us, and official night was 16:25 (I have 3 hours of a
night rating under my belt, which is useless in France anyway).
I hardly need point out that is not good aviation practice.
During the climb out I assessed the vis. (not bad), and the lowness of the
sun (not good). To go Southeast from Prunay you really need to start off
Southwest towards Chalons Epernay to avoid a particularly unpleasant
restricted zone. Thus I was climbing into a low sun and keeping a pretty
close eye on Reims behind me to be sure where I was. My route called for
me to turn Easterly to overfly Chalons, then head 150 degrees straight down
the Marne Valley with an enormous reservoir and a couple of distinctive
towns as the waypoints.
I called up Reims Info, gave them my destination, and was left to get on
with it. At 15:30 or so I was called:
"Please confirm that you have a plan de vol de nuit filed for Vesoul"
"Negative, please confirm that official night is 16:24"
Thinks. Reads map. Thinks. Calls Reims.
"A cause de cette head wind, j'ai changer mon avis and maintainant je vais
a Langres".
The book has the frequency as an 'auto-info'. When I tuned in, about 25
miles out and about 15:50, I could hear numerous calls to do with circuits,
but didn't notice any overall voice in control. I now realise that they
were self announcing, so my repeated and increasingly desperate calls for
joining and landing information were ignored.
By 16:05 it was gloomy. I had the panel lights on, the navs and the
strobes and I was about 5 miles short of the town, with no aerodrome in
sight. No torch, I could barely see the chart properly, but I was sure I
should be on top of the field. I had received a couple of garbled messages
from the ground: "have you spotted the field?", "what are your
intentions?", "which runway?".
Then I saw it, on top, at the edge, of a South facing escarpment, with a
forest behind it to the North. One hut, one hangar, 4 cars, and a wind
sock. (which I spotted on my second orbit). The grass runway had no edge
markers, but I knew it runs due N-S. The runway is marked with a single
arrow at each end (no numbers). The view from the South was nice, but I had
been getting a few more messages from the ground about using 18 so I set up
for slow, safe flight with 10 degrees of flap, and orbited to get a view
from the North. I didn't like this view at all, the trees were tall, the
field looked shorter.
Heading South on my second orbit, I saw 2 things: the windsock, indicating
a gentle wind at ninety degrees, and (to my horror) a whole load of car
headlights seemingly leaving the aerodrome. I have 20 years' experience of
the French, and a fairly low impression of some of them - the Gallic shrug
of indifference is not an English invention. Now I thought I was being left
to get on with it because these people had their soup waiting for them athome.
Then things started to get better. I resolved that the orbiting had to
stop, and that I would go for a landing in a Southerly direction, despite
the trees. A voice came on the radio and this time stayed there - we
agreed that as I was now flying North I was on a downwind leg for 18, 2
cars sped up the runway and turned around into 'wind', pointing their
headlights down the runway. I confirmed that the runway was in-between
these two cars, and then lost sight of them under the wing as I turned
base, grabbed 20 degrees flap, and turned final.
I could see their tail lights and used the DI to line up with the runway,
aiming between the cars, and down we came to a greaser of a landing.
Through all these orbits and the approach I had only paid serious attention
to three instruments - the t's and p's and the ASI. Just about all my
altitude and throttle judgements had been made by eye and ear, and the carb
heat was on more than it was off. The speed did drop away a couple of
times and I'm pleased that no matter how low I'd seemed, I'd dropped the
nose to fix the speed then raised the throttle to fix the height
As we taxied along in the dark, the two cars roared passed us on the
runway, and I was told to follow them, which I did, along a gravel taxiway
to a hangar. I shut down, practically fell out, and there were 6 of the
nicest men I've ever met, all wanting to say hello and, (he blushes)
complement me on the landing."
I wonder how many have read this so far!!(the whole story is at:
http://millen.test.uk.concentric.com/pilots/diary/
Steve R
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PPL(A) EGTO
View my logbook, back up your own:
http://www.e-logbooks.co.uk