G SXTY
16th Sep 2002, 20:18
For those of you who thought that doing your QXC this ‘summer’ was just a fantasy, proof that nothing is impossible:
I pull back the curtains and stare in disbelief at a clear blue sky. After God knows how many lessons cancelled due wx, holidays, sickness, change of instructor etc, my QXC is finally on. I confirm the TAFs & METARs for Norwich & Saafend, jump in the car and head over to Stapleford, still not quite believing I’m finally about to do it.
I brief my instructor for the trip, and we go off for a couple of quick circuits, just to make sure I can still fly. Luckily I can, so we land, fill up G-BTGW with enough avgas to get me to Cuba, and at last I’m ready. I trundle up to the 04L hold, do my power checks and have a grandstand view of a Tiger Moth on short finals. Into position, wait briefly while he clears, full power and I’m off.
I climb out over the M25 traffic, feeling very superior (it’s at a standstill as usual) and turn right to pick up junction 28 and my first waypoint. Sort out heading, altitude and airspeed, start the clock & tune in Southend approach. They’re busy, so it’s FIS only, but at least they know I’m there. Now, for the first time in the flight, I get a chance to relax and marvel at the view. A few small cumulus at around 4,000’ and the visibility must be 20 miles or more - God, I love this feeling - it makes you want to write poetry. If slipping the surly bonds is this good in a little Cessna, what must it feel like in a Spitfire? Southend wake me up with a traffic report, even though I’m just on a FIS. I spot him, but it’s very nice to know there’s another pair of eyes and a radar screen helping me out.
Soon I’m outside their range, and retune to London Information. It looks like I’m the only one going north, everyone else is off to Le Touquet, and the controller is heroically managing to keep his cool; “Stand by no.4”, “Two at once”, etc etc. I’m impressed by his professionalism, and keep on trucking. The Orwell bridge appears, right on the nose and right on time, but it’s a bit early to get cocky – the next leg is pretty featureless, so my nav needs to be up to scratch.
I turn and tune to Norwich approach as the DME reassuringly counts down the numbers. The approach frequency is lovely and quiet [I like that:)], and I check in with them nice and early. No nasty surprises, and I’m visual with the city from 25 miles, but where is everyone? It’s such a beautiful day and I can’t believe I’ve got the sky to myself (then again, maybe I’m just rubbish at spotting traffic). Transfer to the tower, and they’ve got an F50 doing circuits. He obligingly extends crosswind to give me room, and I join left base for 27. Turn finals, crab into the northerly wind, and I track towards the vast runway. So vast, in fact, that I completely misjudge my height, and commence the ‘flare’ about 2 seconds before impact. :eek: Impressively large balloon, followed by a reasonable touchdown, and I shuffle off the runway. The man with the table tennis bats is waiting for me (this is great, I feel like a real pilot) and he drives me to the terminal as a Britannia 757 parks up.
I pay the fee and get my form stamped, but decide against going in for a drink – I really don’t need security going through my flight bag and confiscating my multi-tool (in case I decide to seize control of the aircraft I’m flying). :rolleyes: So just a quick oil & fuel check – not enough for Cuba now, but I could probably still get to the Isle of Wight – and I’m off again. The traffic is just as light on the way back, just one or two gliders enjoying the thermals, but London Information is as crazy as before.
The DME tells me I’ve 30 to run to Southend, so I call approach, who are as helpful as ever. The frequency is nice and quiet as well, so I concentrate on my checks and the lookout. I have a beautiful view of the Blackwater & Crouch estuaries as I run in, making sure I give Bradwell PS a wide berth (I’m not sure if getting shot down would fail my QXC, but I’m not keen to find out). Call the tower and I’m no.1 – incredible, last time I was no.5 and the downwind leg lasted to Canvey Island. He makes sure I’m visual with an outbound Shed, and clears me to land. Remembering to flare this time, I manage a reasonable landing on 24. As I taxi in I notice the huge crowds that have gathered everywhere. For a minute I think they’ve come to witness my milestone of flight, but the resident Vulcan is doing fast taxi runs, and for some reason no-one is interested in my C152. :(
I’d love to stay and watch as well, but I should really give the aircraft back, so I get my form stamped, pay the fee and jump back in. Do the power checks right in front of the Vulcan and its hundreds of admirers, but they seem curiously unmoved by my display of raw power (even at 1,700rpm). I call ‘ready departure’, line up and head for home.
Arriving overhead Stapleford, I fly a nice tidy circuit and turn finals for 04L, noting that the northerly wind has backed quite a bit, and I’m laying off a lot more drift than before. Still, I’ve just flown a 170nm round trip, so this should be a doddle. However, Norwich & Southend don’t have bumpy grass runways that head downhill towards a big hedge . . . Sure enough, I arrive at the threshold with too much energy, and it floats happily down the runway while I struggle to stay on the centreline. Touch down, bounce [must have been a nasty bump / gust;)] and the left wing lifts dramatically. I’m not in the mood for taking any chances, so I go around, fuming to myself at the thought of not being able to land at my home airfield. Fortunately my instructor is on the frequency, and he negotiates a change to runway 28 for me. This time I make sure the speeds are nailed, and I touch down and roll to a stop right in front of the clubhouse.
And there endeth the QXC. I was surprised how unexcited I felt afterwards – maybe I was comparing it with the euphoria of 1st solo, or maybe I was just pleased to get it done after so many false starts. Or perhaps I was just a bit knackered, and relieved to park up with three wheels still attached. Only now, a couple of weeks later, is the sense of achievement starting to sink in.
Buy me a pint at the London bash, and I’ll bore you at even greater length, but then again, if you managed to read this far without falling asleep, maybe I should be buying one for you! :D
I pull back the curtains and stare in disbelief at a clear blue sky. After God knows how many lessons cancelled due wx, holidays, sickness, change of instructor etc, my QXC is finally on. I confirm the TAFs & METARs for Norwich & Saafend, jump in the car and head over to Stapleford, still not quite believing I’m finally about to do it.
I brief my instructor for the trip, and we go off for a couple of quick circuits, just to make sure I can still fly. Luckily I can, so we land, fill up G-BTGW with enough avgas to get me to Cuba, and at last I’m ready. I trundle up to the 04L hold, do my power checks and have a grandstand view of a Tiger Moth on short finals. Into position, wait briefly while he clears, full power and I’m off.
I climb out over the M25 traffic, feeling very superior (it’s at a standstill as usual) and turn right to pick up junction 28 and my first waypoint. Sort out heading, altitude and airspeed, start the clock & tune in Southend approach. They’re busy, so it’s FIS only, but at least they know I’m there. Now, for the first time in the flight, I get a chance to relax and marvel at the view. A few small cumulus at around 4,000’ and the visibility must be 20 miles or more - God, I love this feeling - it makes you want to write poetry. If slipping the surly bonds is this good in a little Cessna, what must it feel like in a Spitfire? Southend wake me up with a traffic report, even though I’m just on a FIS. I spot him, but it’s very nice to know there’s another pair of eyes and a radar screen helping me out.
Soon I’m outside their range, and retune to London Information. It looks like I’m the only one going north, everyone else is off to Le Touquet, and the controller is heroically managing to keep his cool; “Stand by no.4”, “Two at once”, etc etc. I’m impressed by his professionalism, and keep on trucking. The Orwell bridge appears, right on the nose and right on time, but it’s a bit early to get cocky – the next leg is pretty featureless, so my nav needs to be up to scratch.
I turn and tune to Norwich approach as the DME reassuringly counts down the numbers. The approach frequency is lovely and quiet [I like that:)], and I check in with them nice and early. No nasty surprises, and I’m visual with the city from 25 miles, but where is everyone? It’s such a beautiful day and I can’t believe I’ve got the sky to myself (then again, maybe I’m just rubbish at spotting traffic). Transfer to the tower, and they’ve got an F50 doing circuits. He obligingly extends crosswind to give me room, and I join left base for 27. Turn finals, crab into the northerly wind, and I track towards the vast runway. So vast, in fact, that I completely misjudge my height, and commence the ‘flare’ about 2 seconds before impact. :eek: Impressively large balloon, followed by a reasonable touchdown, and I shuffle off the runway. The man with the table tennis bats is waiting for me (this is great, I feel like a real pilot) and he drives me to the terminal as a Britannia 757 parks up.
I pay the fee and get my form stamped, but decide against going in for a drink – I really don’t need security going through my flight bag and confiscating my multi-tool (in case I decide to seize control of the aircraft I’m flying). :rolleyes: So just a quick oil & fuel check – not enough for Cuba now, but I could probably still get to the Isle of Wight – and I’m off again. The traffic is just as light on the way back, just one or two gliders enjoying the thermals, but London Information is as crazy as before.
The DME tells me I’ve 30 to run to Southend, so I call approach, who are as helpful as ever. The frequency is nice and quiet as well, so I concentrate on my checks and the lookout. I have a beautiful view of the Blackwater & Crouch estuaries as I run in, making sure I give Bradwell PS a wide berth (I’m not sure if getting shot down would fail my QXC, but I’m not keen to find out). Call the tower and I’m no.1 – incredible, last time I was no.5 and the downwind leg lasted to Canvey Island. He makes sure I’m visual with an outbound Shed, and clears me to land. Remembering to flare this time, I manage a reasonable landing on 24. As I taxi in I notice the huge crowds that have gathered everywhere. For a minute I think they’ve come to witness my milestone of flight, but the resident Vulcan is doing fast taxi runs, and for some reason no-one is interested in my C152. :(
I’d love to stay and watch as well, but I should really give the aircraft back, so I get my form stamped, pay the fee and jump back in. Do the power checks right in front of the Vulcan and its hundreds of admirers, but they seem curiously unmoved by my display of raw power (even at 1,700rpm). I call ‘ready departure’, line up and head for home.
Arriving overhead Stapleford, I fly a nice tidy circuit and turn finals for 04L, noting that the northerly wind has backed quite a bit, and I’m laying off a lot more drift than before. Still, I’ve just flown a 170nm round trip, so this should be a doddle. However, Norwich & Southend don’t have bumpy grass runways that head downhill towards a big hedge . . . Sure enough, I arrive at the threshold with too much energy, and it floats happily down the runway while I struggle to stay on the centreline. Touch down, bounce [must have been a nasty bump / gust;)] and the left wing lifts dramatically. I’m not in the mood for taking any chances, so I go around, fuming to myself at the thought of not being able to land at my home airfield. Fortunately my instructor is on the frequency, and he negotiates a change to runway 28 for me. This time I make sure the speeds are nailed, and I touch down and roll to a stop right in front of the clubhouse.
And there endeth the QXC. I was surprised how unexcited I felt afterwards – maybe I was comparing it with the euphoria of 1st solo, or maybe I was just pleased to get it done after so many false starts. Or perhaps I was just a bit knackered, and relieved to park up with three wheels still attached. Only now, a couple of weeks later, is the sense of achievement starting to sink in.
Buy me a pint at the London bash, and I’ll bore you at even greater length, but then again, if you managed to read this far without falling asleep, maybe I should be buying one for you! :D