Close call - your worst one!
 

Strange, but while it was actually happening I felt seriously annoyed, but not scared and shaking until I had landed.

In all my flying the worst frights were in tugs, not gliders. Possibly because its hard to see other traffic from the tug aircraft, compared to the very good vis available in most gliders.

But I still remember that time I was launching gliders at the Junior Nationals competition - was it at Bicester or Weston? Anyway, very close indeed to Oxford. Oxford traffic certainly should have been aware that we were launching 50 gliders in 30 minutes. I was pulling up a glider flown by a young Navy pilot. And noticed a twin aircraft coming towards us from Oxford.

In theory, we had the right of way.

But he just carried on, until we were nearly nose to nose. I turned right.
AND THE TWIN TURNED LEFT! we were in serious danger. Only one option left, couldn't go higher, so I dived sharply. The young Navy pilot still hung on, which was a good thing, as we presented only one target instead of two.

The twin carried on very very close, over our combination. And went on its way, wherever. I carried on pulling up the glider, which released at the usual 2,000. I then landed, and went to Control, to tell them about it.

Later on, after the competing gliders had returned from their task, I asked the young Navy pilot how come he didn't let go when he saw the close call.
He said he had paid for a two thousand foot tow and he wanted his money's worth!

Tell us about your close call!

Self-inflicted.

Northern Ireland, Jan or Feb 1997. 0300 call out, filthy weather (heavy rain and very low cloud). Low level (perhaps 250ft?), NVG, I was map reading, no GPS (see other thread!) black pen with a little red torch, co-pilot handling. Rad Alt set at 50'. Suddenly get "Can't see anything Sir, you have control". Ah.

Then radalt starts squawking.

Map gets chucked in the back, grab controls, aircraft already level but with a rate of descent, pull pitch into IMC and try to figure out what's happening. Bit quiet for a few seconds, then call Aldergrove and get an approach back home.

We'll never know how close we came...

Driving back home from EMA on the A453 (before it was dualed) having landed about 11 pm, so it was night. Tootling along at about 50 mph - come over the brow of the hill and there's some clown overtaking an HGV on my side of the road. Instant reaction to swerve onto the grass and we avoid by inches. All I lost was a hubcap and my composure!

Oh, thought it was flying only. Nearly killed myself MUCH more often on the ground!

Through no fault of my own, they joined me from behind, I became Red 10 :ooh:

Whilst training out of Sywell 1997 for my PPLH.
In R22 with instructor somewhere South of airfield at about 1500ft in LH turn . I see low wing poss PA28 right on top of us, Shout to instructor "airplane" he takes control and dives us away. VERY Close call.

Close call #1

Towing a glider in an Auster at Compton Abbas, bumpy day. In the mirror I could see that the glider was struggling to hold position. Get to 2000', feel the jerk of glider release. Look in the mirror - he's gone. Twist round in my seat to confirm. No glider. Close the throttle, drop the nose and bank left.

Another jerk! The glider's still attached! With the stick fully back I can't raise the nose so no point in throttling up - power will only accelerate us downwards. The combination sinks earthward while I think 'why doesn't he release?' I might have to release my end, but I'm reluctant to do that in case the cable wraps round the glider's controls or smashes its canopy. But now there's no other option. My hand starts to reach up to pull the release but then there's another jerk. He's away!

Later on I have a full and frank discussion with the glider instructor, who robustly questioned my competence and told me they couldn't release after I started my dive because of the tension in the cable. The second jerk was actually the cable breaking. My defence was that his station keeping was poor. We agreed to disagree about who was to blame.

Later the thought occurred to me - suppose I couldn't release my end and the cable didn't break . . .

Close call #2

VFR just below the base of the London TMA in a littl'n. Jetstream flashes past underneath right to left, not more than 50 feet below. Didn't see it until after it appeared left side. Comment from the missus in the RHS: 'Are they normally as close as that?'

First Solo
 

1977. All those years ago and just yesterday, on a severe clear March day in the Golden Isles of Georgia, my superb flight instructor (he of 27,000 ATP hours!) and I were flying my favorite training aircraft, N757WW, a Cessna 152 widely known by ATCs from Jacksonville to Savannah as "Double Shot". After several circuits around the pattern at KSSI with some nice touch-and-goes, we taxied back to the school's hangar. As I prepared to shut down, Frank touched my right hand as I reached to close the throttle. "Time to solo!" said Frank to his twelve hour total time pilot. "She'll feel a little lighter; just do everything you already know how to do!" My pulse went tachycardic, but I was so very ready to go...

I taxied back to the run-up area of 33, that day's active runway. After requesting an airport advisory and clearance to take off which was granted, I entered the runway. Everything on the panel was in the green. 10 degrees of flaps, a last look around the pattern, a quick deal with God followed by full throttle and some right rudder. Double Shot leapt into the air as if she were STOL equipped! The engine sounded smooth and powerful and the air was as smooth as Steuben glass. I retracted flaps and soared upward at 1,000 f.p.m. toward pattern altitude of 800 feet MSL. Nirvana!

WTF? Just as I reached my assigned altitude and commenced a ninety-degree left-hand turn to downwind, my windshield was filled with an huge Air South DC-3. At my altitude! Not more than 300 feet horizontal separation! Talk about your from ecstasy to seventh sphere of Hell moment! I was too frightened to soil my garish pantaloons!

Long story short: I extended my crosswind leg, watched as the DC-3 made a perfect three-point landing on 22, then proceeded to make three circuits to full stop landings. They were great landings, too: I was not hurt and the aircraft was reusable!

As my flight instructor used scissors to cut the shirt tail off of my favorite pink (but not ghey) shirt, the Air South cockpit crew walked out on the apron and approached us. "Who was flying Double Shot today?" the pilot asked. "This guy?" said the co-pilot, pointing at me. I nodded in assent. The pilot said "Didn't mean to cut you off, but we were an hour behind schedule. Congrats on the solo - can we buy you a beer?" And so they did. Plural.

How wonderful to relive the memories of that extra-special day...


http://www.pprune.org/data:image/jpe...OPvpNEM//ZAA==
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Well Mary, I like the question, but I'm not sure of the criteria; I could relate "wow, that was dumb" (but no one was hurt), Or "Uh oh, we bent a little bit of metal", or darned near killed (still trying to get over that one).

Yes, there is a lot to learn from the close calls others can relate...

Okay, a modest effort on my part: I used to share an aerodrome with another fellow. He had an older 182, and I flew my 150. Both were STOL equipped, an we both enjoyed flying them for nice, precise, short landings. The runway at this aerodrome was 1600 feet long, but very narrow, only 20 feet wide in places. I went to fly circuits one day. I noticed that my friend had already flown off somewhere in his 182. Hmm, place to myself :)! There was a nice breeze coming up, so I flew my circuits into the wind. I was practicing short, and precise. As I had the aerodrome to myself, I focused on my precision. I was not focusing on traffic, nor was he, when he returned from wherever... He had taken off with no wind, so landed in the same direction, except he did not check the wind direction, nor look for traffic. I was flying my circuits into the wind, and I too, was neglectful looking for traffic. We both touched down about the same time, landing toward one and other. As I saw him touch down in front of me, I realized that a go around would be impossible, so I jumped on the brakes, with the controls held full back. He soon realized that his windshield was filling with Cessna 150, and also locked it up. When we both stopped, we were about 100 feet apart, so lots of room. It was a happy thing that we both did good short landings, particularly as his was downwind. I learned to be more aware of my surroundings, even when I thing I have the place to myself!

In the US of A, they call Mooneys "doctor killers", as I recall.

The V tail ones are the worst!

That's the Bonanza, the Forked Tail Doctor Killer.

Don,t think so Mary - it's the V tail Beech Bonanza that was known as the "doctor killer" as they were the folks who could afford to buy them!

Sywell, about a million years ago in a Beagle Pup. Just finished some rudimentary training in 'aerobatics'. Carrying out a series of aileron rolls all of which lost some altitude which was the intention as we were returning to the field. Inverted, I glanced up ( ie down ) and saw we were a bit lower than I thought - immediate panic and instead of completing the roll, I pulled through and lost a hell of a lot more height - it was very, very close ! Six months later the RAF began to teach me how to do it in a rather more controlled manner, albeit in the mighty JP3a.

Plodding the circuit doing my night rating solo consolidation at EGTF many years ago.

Crisp evening, cold and dry with endless visibility. I had the circuit to myself, with the only company being a helicopter operating to the south of the runway doing what ever helicopter pilots do practising all that hovering nonsense.

I was feeling quite the pilot as I seemed to have mastered this taking off, flying an landing business, even at night. My little Piper was co-operating, sounding as sweet as a nut and handling crisply in the still night air.

OK this will be my last circuit, on the PAPI's, nice touch down, power on with a little rudder, rotate and head down to scan instruments whilst we negotiate the initial dark zone.

I was hit by something I never saw coming. The controls had a mind of their own and for probably 5-10 seconds I was a passenger. Then the horizon appeared and all was calm again, except my mouth was dry and my heart racing. I rushed my last circuit and was not sure what my radio calls sounded like...I just wanted to get on the ground.

Downwind helicopter blade wash....I was enjoying myself so much, I missed the obvious gotcha.

Lining up for take off at Chirk airfield, throttle full and start to roll, when three bloody Hercules came roaring out of the Welsh valley directly overhead at, what seemed to me, zero feet. Anyway powered over just over my head.
Don't they have horns to peep or something?

Coming north from a Women's Pilot Association meeting at Oxford many years ago, lovely clear sky until hit an invisible bank of fog over the Evesham ridge. Classic novice pilot in whiteout situation finally emerging very near the green stuff at a worrying angle, a few more seconds and we would have been finished.
If you need an motivation to do instrument training something like that is a massive incentive.

Checked a guy out on the Tiger Moth. We came out of the bottom of a falling leaf maneuver, a bit lower than I would have liked. Say, about 1000-1200 ft AGL. The guy in the back lowered the nose and applied full power immediately. Too soon, so we flicked into a spin. Managed to save it in about half a turn, but we got a REALLY close look at the treetops underneath!

This was an experienced GA and King Air Air ambulance pilot, but he hadn't flown much aerobatics. Learning moment for me was to never assume anything, like the assumption that such an experienced guy wouldn't do anything like that.

Another one, also in a Tiger Moth. Was on our way to an airshow, four Tiger Moths in formation. A really bumpy day. One of the worst I've experienced actually. Took off with a full tank, but somewhere along the way to our first fuel stop, the primer button on top of the carburettor came loose and fell off, allowing fuel to flow through the overrun pipe in addition to what was being ingested by the engine. The fact that the ride was so bumpy made reading the fuel gauge impossible, but I usually fly by the watch rather than by the fuel gauge anyway. After about an hour and fifteen minutes we landed, and I thought it strange that the little knob on top of the wire all but disappeared below the bottom of the sight glass. Then I shut down and had a look up front, and saw the missing primer button. Safety-wired the mechanism in place to stop the slow leak through the overrun pipe, and filled the tank. I had landed with one and a half gallons remaining! :O

Returning to home airport from a local grass strip with another aircraft somewhere behind doing much the same. From his inbound radio call I had him positioned about 5 or 6 miles behind.
Making the 45° turn on to downwind I glanced over my shoulder and there he was, absolutely head on and seconds away! My avoidance was close to aerobatic half expecting his prop would eat my tail.
Back at the hangar we had a discussion. Despite no 'base', 'final' or 'cleared to land' transmissions from me or the tower he thought I was already landed. Nor had he seen me even though I was dead ahead and really close!

I can recall maybe 5 anxious episodes involving other gliders but here is my solo self inflicted close call.
Flying an old Skylark 3 glider, wind was 25 kts straight down the strip, thermic enough to make the aerotow interesting, the lift was too broken to gain height so joined the circuit, on the down wind leg I allowed the speed to drop then turned base leg.
The glider stalled with wing drop in the gradient, just managed to level the wings in time to flop over the threshold, right in front of the CFI. His comments, " never do that again, go and have a coffee, then come back and show me how it should be done".
I got away with that one!!, but learned from it.

1. Years ago as a student Flexwing pilot. Somerset, slightly murky Sunday afternoon, looked to Port as part of my scan and there was a glider coming straight at us! Instructor yanked the bar in from the back seat and we passed under it. I do recall from my glance left that the pilot was young, had ginger hair and glasses. Was "bricking it" for several minutes afterwards.

2. Last year, grass strip, 3 Axis microlight with a 582 Blue Top, usual careful pre-flight, lined up, took off and just as I turned crosswind revs died right back, headed for a field close by but found backing the throttle off to about two thirds made the engine run reasonably smoothly, managed to creep up another hundred feet, fly a very abbreviated circuit and land with not problem. There was a piece of a blade of grass in the rear carb float bowl, absolutely no idea how it got in there but it was being sucked up onto the main jet when throttle was at high demand. ALWAYS float bowls off as part of my pre-flight nowadays.

Worst was a Marchetti coming head on over Rochester, when I was taking a service from Rochester ATC. Thanks for that who ever you were. A set of wheels seen out of the cockpit out of Biggin, missing me by feet, on the quad rule, thanks once again who ever you were. And finally to the gentleman who flew the Le Touquet circuit 200' below circuit height and omitted to tell Le Touquet he was there until base leg. I luckily had already seen him and his lunch companions.

Wearing my brand new headset, never had one before.

Finals, concentrating, aircraft stable.....what is that hissing sound???

Check instruments, my word the ASI appears to be reading 5kts under stall speed, lift one earphone off and discover the hissing is the stall warning horn.

Look back up and the runway is getting bigger panickingly faster. firewall throttle, yolk into spine, under carriage touches down, throttle to idle, remarkably short landing run.

Up to the tower to pay the landing fee, controller says "that was a bit of a steep landing", I say "it was a bit wasn't it".

1. September 1966. In a Piper Colt with my instructor, midway through my PPL. We were at about 2000’, west of Reading and north of Aldermaston. A Hastings suddenly materialized head-on and passed less than 100’ above, before either of us could react.

2. Leconfield, July 1967. My first UAS Summer Camp at Binbrook. I had flown with my instructor to Leconfield to do circuits on their grass runway.

During the flare on one landing, the right wing suddenly dropped with a vengeance. My instructor took over and applied full throttle and full left stick, and we staggered back into the air. He then said very forcefully “Don’t EVER do that again!” I was mystified as I had no idea what had happened.

Two circuits later, while downwind, I noticed grass on the wingtip, which resulted in a full stop landing and inspection of the damage. We subsequently walked out to the runway and found a 20 yard furrow in the grass. That was a very close call.

It turned out that what had happened was that a Shackleton was doing an engine run up and the slipstream was blowing across the runway threshold! I remember that we debriefed in the tower. I must have looked rather shocked as I was given a mug of tea, liberally laced with rum.

I suspect there was some kind of coverup going on as I was coached as to what to put in my statement.

The Chipmunk needed a new wing.

Last time a spun a Tomahawk.
Never spun it again.

My closest call was returning to my home base. I always have my Zaon MRX switched on and as I joined the circuit, it was registering traffic 3 miles away, 700 feet lower. I called Downwind 06. Upon turning Base, the target was 2 miles away, 700 feet lower. I called Base 06. As I flew along base, the target became closer. I turned on to final, called Final 06 and was shocked to see my Zaon suddenly start showing target 0.2 miles away, 200 feet lower, climbing.

I called over the radio to ask if anyone on the field had a transponder on, thinking this was possibly the issue. At the same time I intensified my scan trying to see if I could spot any conflicting traffic. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught some movement from underneath the root of my left wing and was shocked to see a motor-glider come shooting past me, climbing straight through my final. Vertical separation was at some point zero, horizontal less than 40 feet.

My first reaction was to call over radio 'what the XXXX was that?' At the airfield, the controller looked in the direction of my approach and saw the motor-glider come low over the field and called the pilot up - he was that close, that low, his registration could be read.

To both our surprise, the pilot not only responded, but when asked why he was breaching the rules of the AIP (no flying over the city at under 2000 feet) and why he'd not called up or observed my calls in the pattern, his response was that 'he was allowed to do that, low flying training is expected; in any case, he was not obligated to talk to anyone if he didn't wish to'.

Both the controller and I reported the incident, it was investigated and found that the pilot had taken off from an airfield around 15 minutes away using Runway 24. Because of this, he assumed that my home airfield would also be using Runway 24 and it didn't register to him that 06 was in use. His intention was to follow the river running parallel to the runway but that brought him straight through my final.

He confirmed he had heard me on the radio but assumed as I was landing, not going for a touch an go, that I wouldn't be a factor - which would have been the case, had my home field also been using 24. Moral of the story: You might have taken off using one circuit direction but another airfield in the vicinity might be using the reciprocal direction....

Coasting out from Cap Gris Nez (in a PA28 with roof windows) having come up from Le Touquet. The other aircraft, going in the opposite direction, was close enough for me to feel, hear and see it flashing just over my head. I didn't see it coming and afterwards, I couldn't see a trace of where it had gone. I was just left with immense shock and a memory that is is still with me, crystal clear, thirty years later.

I thought the Tomahawk gave a very impressive spin demonstration, but nothing to be scared of. However, I had several hundred spins under my belt by then, in Chipmunks, Citabrias and gliders.

>>>

Cant be sure but I seem to recall that spinning a Tomahawk was either prohibited or recommended to be avoided.

C
 

It
Had two close calls in 1979-1980 when flying Jet Provosts at Linton The first was a close one with a Bulldog head-on when I dived through a hole in some stratus with a base os around 2000 feet Agl during a solo radar to visual. Which occurred about 5 mile North west of Linton ( not instrument rated )and so neededto stay clear of cloud. The Bulldog was I guess scud runningstaying beneath the cloud staying visual with the ground and heading forLeeming . My I pulled up to to stay visual al with the ground somewhere in the vicinity of Easingwold doing about 250 knots and as the hole was quite small the cloud prevented me from seeing the Bulldog until I was levelling off beneath it I was heading south west the Bulldog heading north east to follow the railway track between York
and Leeming and we passed by on opposite headings at more or less the same level. All I can Romberg is I bright landing light and and to helmeted heads swivelling. Round mouths open as we flashed pasteach other very close neither of us had time to take avoiding action and it was over in a flash but a minor change in our flight paths could easily have resulted in a mid ai r I kept the incident stum and didn't report it as an air Miss as I didn't want to expose
my lack of good airmanship and draw attention to myself whilst still a very junior sprog pilot under training and I was concerned that Prince Andrew then u/t at the RN ETS might have been flying the Bulldog and I hadn't read the notams about Purple Airspce!
My second close call was on a solo low level navexwhen the cloud an viz were dropping as I was flying north over the North York Moors and I had a close shave with the Billsdale mast or more accurately with the guy wires that supported said mast?
I survived both and spent a happy year at Linton accumulating 160 hours on J P's of both types happy days indeed
Madbob

They were restricted to those airframes with a full harness.
I had a real nasty checking out a QFI who had only spun C150's before.
Mishandled recovery attempt (with the elevator held fully back) , we entered the secondary spin mode which is highly unpleasant.

Started ar F060, recovered somewhere between 1200 and 1500 feet QNH !!
I always loved flying and spinning the Pa38 as an instructor, but that flight cured me of the desire to allow anybody else to spin it.

In ATC back in the 80's at an en route centre. 2 aircraft converging , B747 and HP7 at nearly 90°angle at 6000 ft.Spotted just as phone rings to warn from adjacent unit. Avoiding action climb and descent given. The Herald crew were asked if they had seen the 747. "No, we were IMC,but we heard him"!Wasn't a good feeling for all involved!

I was about 8000 feet or so in the company Cessna 182 east of los angeles. VFR with ATC flight following. ATC alerts of a twin at my altitude at 11 o'clock, opposite direction. I spot him, close but no factor, which I tell to the controller. Immediately after my call out, the twin cranks into a left turn directly for us. Incredulous at what I was seeing, it took about 5 seconds for me to disconnect autopilot and dive for life and limb. The twin zipped over me close enough to see the oil stains on the bottom of the wings. Second time that scenario has happened, other other time it was a Agusta helo that came barreling along without a hint of even knowing I was there. The pilots must have been on autopilot with their eye buried in the cockpit. Either that or they enjoyed seeing my eyes, big and bright as white saucers through my windscreen.

Worst one? Being on final and hearing the controller clear to land a big airliner a lot faster and close behind on the same runway. After my "sorry?" on the radio, the feeling of wake turbulence from theirs go around was my razor sharp closest call - controller did forget about me. Things happen, so what?

Tomahawk is cleared for spinning (you need a four point harness to spin legally). We've got one where I teach and never had any issues with spinning so long as you comply with the POH in every respect.

Vmo until 3.5NM (250knts) everything forward services on the numbers slammed the anchors on full reverse off on the opposite direction fast exit. Hit V1 on the taxi to the apron. Engines shut down before the brakes set and batterys off.

Into the FBO and some bastard was in the disabled bog next to the entrance. With trousers already undone and grapsed very tightly at the top.

Before the mental cry of "faaaaaaaarck" was complete the door unlocked.

15 mins later the tech log was completed with completely fictional times due to really not caring what they were when I landed or parked.

Off base, night flight in a light twin engine helicopter, for low level filming sortie over a capital city, despite two tail rotor chip light warnings in previous 24 hours.

30 minutes into flight aborted the mission on third warning(!) and following the expedited landing at international airport, discovered a large chunk of a bearing on the chip.

Despite a crew who considered themselves safety conscious.

Mjb

I almost married a Russian! Just escaped.

Returning to Redhill one friday afternoon in the Tiger Club days. Field was shared with Bristow helis, with their own tower and radio, dividing line on the N-S runway. I was running in from the south, called their frequency about 10 miles out, no answer. Thinks - Friday, knocked off early. Lined up on the r/w - maybe a "little" on their side so as to see who was getting planes out for evening flying. A chopper appeared climbing out of the ground clutter dead ahead and TOO CLOSE. Shoved the stick forward and went just under him. Instinct to do that as a turn would have lost sight ( me in a low-winger) Scared the .... out of the heli instructor & student, radio immediately burst into life as I whipped over to our half of the field and landed. Apologized to irate instructor, and Michael helped calm him down. Rapped over the knuckles, as I was inthe wrong, but at least I didn't hit him

Out of Ideas and Altitude Simultaneously!
 

I posted this previously in Rotorheads and believe it counts as a close call... ;)

Dear Vertical Freedom,

You definitely put the WOW in your pilotage and photographic skills! I garnered four hours of PIC time in an Evergreen Bell 206 Long Ranger way back in 1978. (I had accumulated 760 hours in Cessna 152's, 172's, 185's, and 320's at the time.) I could hover, barely...

One Sunday my friend/instructor called to see if I would like to bring my then-wife, son, and friend along for a sight seeing pleasure flight in the chopper. We spent nearly an hour doing maneuvers and low-level, high-speed runs over marshland and ocean. We requested and were granted landing permission at KSSI (St. Simons Island) when we were three minutes out at 3,000' MSL. My so-called friend came on the intercom and said "Watch this!" I recall, in slow motion, his reaching out from the right seat to cycle the emergency fuel cut-off switch. The annunciator panel went from green to orange to red. We were going to auto-rotate and were too low to get a relight/restart. I turned around and told my wife, son, and friend (who was busy shooting 3 frames/second with his Nikon) to Brace-Brace-Brace.

We flared 50' too soon and went down on the beach. Airspeed was indicated at 60 kts. and the VSI was pegged full down. Our skids dug into the sand, we tipped forward, and the main rotors made a clean decapitation of the boom. My wife grabbed our 8-year-old son and exited beneath the still-rotating main, which fluffed her hair. Had she been an inch taller - curtains! I fumbled frantically and finally released my five-point harness and exited stage left.

We walked about a quarter mile up the beach on Sea Island and encountered four gentlemen who were leaning out of a porch on the third floor of a condominium. They yelled "Hey! Did you see that helicopter go down? It was smoking and going too fast!" I responded "Yeah! We were in it!" "Do you want a drink?", they asked. Moments later, four gentlemen from Atlanta hugged us and motioned to a table upon which were half-gallons of every alcoholic beverage known to modern man. I grabbed a bottle and glugged. Our "pilot", replete in the knowledge that the FAA would be around soon, did not partake. My wife, who worked for the Sea Island Company, commandeered one of their limousines and took our son home. Our friend still has photos of the entire episode.

All by way of saying Thank You for bringing the joy of High Flight back to me. I have been afraid all these years and now am not. I owe a debt of gratitude to he who understands the serenity of a clear blue mountain lake, a kind and beautiful Bride, and the miracle of Himalayan Mountain Highs.

John Denver, whose Dad flew B-58's, would be proud...

(And jealous!)

Best and Highest Regards,

Ed :D

We met at Barton and pulled the Chipmunk (Sierra Lima) from the hanger. The weather wasn't brilliant, but it was quite flyable. We pre-flit, strapped in, and fired up.

Once the oil temp was up, we taxyed to the hold for 09 (the only one of Barton's runways which points directly at a built up area). Checks complete,
we lined up and I applied full power. Tail-up, SL accelerated smoothly over the wet grass and I let her unstick at 45 knots, holding her down just above the surface in ground effect until we had 60 knots, then eased the stick back and climbed out at 70 with a good rate of climb.

As we crossed the upwind fence, SL gave a mighty cough, which I felt through the controls. Could be a bit of water in the fuel - I made a mental note to stay in the circuit until I was happy with the engine, and continued ahead (no other options at that stage, anyway). A couple of seconds later, now about 300 feet over the built up area, the steady blattering roar of the Gipsy Major engine deteriorated into a series of loud pops, bangs, and surges, accompanied by much vibration. I could no longer read the instruments as the panel vibrated, or hear the radio (despite headsets) because of the cacophony from up front. I levelled off immediately, holding full power (such as it now was...) to let the speed build as much as it could and started a very gentle slightly descending left turn transmitting "Sierra Lima immediate return".

I couldn't hear the reply of course, but knew there was at least one other aircraft in the circuit in front of us. If we could turn beyond 90 degrees before the engine failed completely I thought we could probably continue a gliding, descending teardrop turn from there and get back in somewhere on the airfield. Or failing that, into a field north of Barton. Crashing into the built up area as at first feared seemed unlikely now, thankfully.

In the turn I noted the cemetery rotating around the left wingtip and looking ominously close. Then three brilliant white swans in perfect formation swept gracefully under us; I could swear their beady eyes were swiveled upwards towards the noisy, banging, shaking, farting red beast descending towards them.

Rather than the engine failing completely as I had feared it might, the misfiring actually became slightly less severe and I realised we could hold
height. So I stopped the turn after 180 degrees which put us on a close-in low-down left hand downwind leg for the active runway, 09. I transmitted "Sierra Lima, rough running engine, immediate return" in case the tower and the circuit traffic hadn't got the message the first time.

Again, I couldn't hear the reply. I pulled on full flap, turned base very close in with the 09 numbers on the left wingtip while transmitting "Sierra Lima close-in left base" for the information of any other traffic that this is now MY runway AND I AM GOING TO LAND ON IT. Once I knew we could get in I closed the throttle, let go a very old breath, trimmed for 60 knots, and continued a steep gliding left turn right down onto the runway.

We taxyed, followed by the fire tender with its blue flashing light, straight to the engineer's hangar. They did some ground runs - lots of misfiring (but nothing like as bad as it had been in the air) with flames and white puffs of unburnt fuel from the exhaust at high RPM, black smoke at low RPM.

As a postscript, the aeroplane was 'fixed' by changing the plugs, but it still wasn't running as it should. Later, we applied a mod so we could use 'modern' plugs, which improved things a lot. But what really fixed it was, several months after the above, a mag failed (on the ground) and after it was changed we had no more intermittent mis-fires - or worse.

I don't think either of us will ever forget those surreal white swans flying gracefully through the middle of our drama.

On a Wing and a Prayer
 

Dear Shaggy,

What a well-told adventure! My pulse rate accelerated as I read it - I was made to feel that I was right there in the cockpit with you. :D

You were so busy that you missed the swan directly beneath you, though. She was praying for a successful outcome. :ok:

https://53744bf91d44b81762e0-fbbc959...g-sunlight.jpg

So glad those supplications came true! ;)

May tailwinds, clear skies, and smooth-running engines be yours, Sir...

- Ed