Here's the scene. A beautiful day in Shropshire and I had a C172 booked out for 3 hours. Phoned a friend who had never flown before and he brought his two kids along. We decide to fly to Caernarfon.
We arrive at the airfield on time. No C172. It's in Swansea I'm told. 60 minutes later it shows up. The previous pilot hadn't realised that the plane would ice up if left out overnight, and had spent 45 minutes defrosting it before returning it to me.
Better late than never, we get off. I fly round the coast rather than over the top, because of some haze over the Welsh mountains. Beautiful trip and we're all having fun. Land at Caernarfon, refuel and stand in awe as a Harvard is displayed expertly over the airfield. Fantastic! (I ring the airfield at Sleap so they can hear the sound of it. They were simultaneously pleased and a bit narked too!).
Ooops, realise I'm going to be late getting the airplane home. Hurry everyone up. Walk up to the plane. Get everyone settled in, and walk around to the right hand side door so that I could check the seat belt on the toddler sitting in the back. Mind on other things, I walk straight into the wing!
Bl**dy hell! It hurt! C172 flaps are painful. It knocked me over backwards and dazed, I sat on frozen grass wondering why there were more things flying now than there were a few minutes ago.
After a couple of minutes I stand up, watching what I am doing this time! Draw myself up to my full height and try to gather any remaining shreds of dignity, I turn and see one of our club C152s next to me, and some amused club members enjoying the scene.
Deciding that I am OK, we set off to go back over the mountains. Oops, no can do, ear ache in the back. So back we go, round the coast at low level. Get back, the C152 is home before us and has amused everyone with my wing walking escapade.
That was my first flight of 2003! And it was still fantastic. Wouldn't have swapped it for anything.
Get a huge sore spot on my head though.
