Aerobatic Flyer
6th Apr 2003, 04:46
Some days, things just don't work out the way they were planned. Today was one such day.
The plan was this: 9am takeoff to arrive at Alpe d'Huez in time for morning coffee. A few glacier landings before lunch, and then an excursion into the Southen Alps in the afternoon before coming back to Alpe d'Huez in the evening.
It all started well enough. I took off with a friend / instructor more or less on time, and got routed all over the place by Lyon radar to avoid the squadrons of ski-charter flights arriving from the UK. High above some B52's were leaving contrails in the morning sun. I'm sure that bombers aren't supposed to look beautiful. We arrived at Alpe d'Huez, checked the skis were down, and did a couple of touch-and-go's before stopping for a break.
After having coffee and reserving a table for lunch, my instructor friend said that he'd like to fly for a bit. So we agreed that he would take off from Alpe d'Huez, and fly us up to the glacier for the first couple of landings, before letting me have a go. We set off in lose formation with another Jodel, and after a long climb arrived at 10000 ft over the St Sorlin glacier. Our friends in the other plane landed first, then we began our approach.
Everything seemed perfect. The visibility was unlimited, there was some fresh snow with just a few tracks in it. The wind on the glacier was light, despite the gale that was blowing in the Rhone valley just a few miles away. The pilot had many many thousands of hours experience, including over a 100 hours glacier flying in the last few weeks. All I had to do was enjoy the view, and take photos.
The aiming point is chosen. Roundout in the slope of the glacier, touchdown, and suddenly we've crashed. All we can see is snow and we're hanging upside down from our straps.
The crash is all a bit of a blur to me at the moment. I don't remember any fear or even surprise. I knew I wasn't hurt, and knew I had to get out quickly. We were able to break a side window and crawl out under the wing. Fuel was leaking out of the front tank into the snow, but thankfully didn't ignite. Amazingly neither of us were injured in the slightest. If you're going to crash, I can't think of anything better to crash into than powder snow! It acts a bit like an airbag.
Once we were sure there was no fire risk, we rescued our things from the plane, called our friends on the handheld radio (they'd taken off just before the accident, but kindly came back to cheer us up), and waited for the helicopter to come.
Why did we crash? :confused: :confused: It's a mystery to me. From looking at the wreck, the most likely explanation is that one of the skis may have failed, causing it to dig into the snow on touchdown. (Actually, I shouldn't really saw "wreck". The only visible damage is the undercarriage and the broken canopy.) Had I been flying, there would have been any number of other possible reasons, but we were on an "easy" glacier and the pilot truly did know what he was doing.
The trip home was made in stages. First, the rescue helicopter back to Alpe d'Huez, where things turned surreal for a while. France is France, and nothing separates a Frenchman from his lunch - especially when the table has been booked. So 4 weary pilots, 2 of whom had just crashed, tucked into a tasty Magret de Canard two tables away from the crew of the rescue helicopter. I confess I didn't have much of an appetite, but felt that national honour was at stake if I didn't tuck in with gusto!
When everyone had finished desert (a rather sticky pineapple tart), some friends from Megève happened to land at Alpe d'Huez. They gave me a lift to Grenoble, where another friend came and collected me in a Robin. To be quite honest, I'd have been happy to have taken a taxi home - even though it would have cost £250. But it was probably as well to fly again.
So, what did I learn about flying from that? I'm not sure yet. Maybe that I don't really want to fly any more - but I suspect that will pass.
I supppose I learnt not to skimp on pre-flight checks. We checked the skis thoroughly before the first take off of the day, but now there's the nagging doubt that something went wrong when we landed at Alpe d'Huez which might have caused the accident, and which we didn't spot in the cursory checks we made before leaving.
I also learnt how shoulder straps stop you from getting hurt. With lap straps only, there is no doubt that both of us would be in hospital now looking somewhat battered - at best.
Also, survival equipment can come in useful. The handheld radio and mobile phone got help on its way quickly. The boots, coats, hats and gloves that seemed a bit over-the-top in the spring sunshine were certainly welcome when we were waiting for the helicopter.
Finally, fate exists. It doesn't matter how experienced you are.
Not the most cheerful post for a Saturday evening.... and certainly not the shortest! Sorry about that!:O
The plan was this: 9am takeoff to arrive at Alpe d'Huez in time for morning coffee. A few glacier landings before lunch, and then an excursion into the Southen Alps in the afternoon before coming back to Alpe d'Huez in the evening.
It all started well enough. I took off with a friend / instructor more or less on time, and got routed all over the place by Lyon radar to avoid the squadrons of ski-charter flights arriving from the UK. High above some B52's were leaving contrails in the morning sun. I'm sure that bombers aren't supposed to look beautiful. We arrived at Alpe d'Huez, checked the skis were down, and did a couple of touch-and-go's before stopping for a break.
After having coffee and reserving a table for lunch, my instructor friend said that he'd like to fly for a bit. So we agreed that he would take off from Alpe d'Huez, and fly us up to the glacier for the first couple of landings, before letting me have a go. We set off in lose formation with another Jodel, and after a long climb arrived at 10000 ft over the St Sorlin glacier. Our friends in the other plane landed first, then we began our approach.
Everything seemed perfect. The visibility was unlimited, there was some fresh snow with just a few tracks in it. The wind on the glacier was light, despite the gale that was blowing in the Rhone valley just a few miles away. The pilot had many many thousands of hours experience, including over a 100 hours glacier flying in the last few weeks. All I had to do was enjoy the view, and take photos.
The aiming point is chosen. Roundout in the slope of the glacier, touchdown, and suddenly we've crashed. All we can see is snow and we're hanging upside down from our straps.
The crash is all a bit of a blur to me at the moment. I don't remember any fear or even surprise. I knew I wasn't hurt, and knew I had to get out quickly. We were able to break a side window and crawl out under the wing. Fuel was leaking out of the front tank into the snow, but thankfully didn't ignite. Amazingly neither of us were injured in the slightest. If you're going to crash, I can't think of anything better to crash into than powder snow! It acts a bit like an airbag.
Once we were sure there was no fire risk, we rescued our things from the plane, called our friends on the handheld radio (they'd taken off just before the accident, but kindly came back to cheer us up), and waited for the helicopter to come.
Why did we crash? :confused: :confused: It's a mystery to me. From looking at the wreck, the most likely explanation is that one of the skis may have failed, causing it to dig into the snow on touchdown. (Actually, I shouldn't really saw "wreck". The only visible damage is the undercarriage and the broken canopy.) Had I been flying, there would have been any number of other possible reasons, but we were on an "easy" glacier and the pilot truly did know what he was doing.
The trip home was made in stages. First, the rescue helicopter back to Alpe d'Huez, where things turned surreal for a while. France is France, and nothing separates a Frenchman from his lunch - especially when the table has been booked. So 4 weary pilots, 2 of whom had just crashed, tucked into a tasty Magret de Canard two tables away from the crew of the rescue helicopter. I confess I didn't have much of an appetite, but felt that national honour was at stake if I didn't tuck in with gusto!
When everyone had finished desert (a rather sticky pineapple tart), some friends from Megève happened to land at Alpe d'Huez. They gave me a lift to Grenoble, where another friend came and collected me in a Robin. To be quite honest, I'd have been happy to have taken a taxi home - even though it would have cost £250. But it was probably as well to fly again.
So, what did I learn about flying from that? I'm not sure yet. Maybe that I don't really want to fly any more - but I suspect that will pass.
I supppose I learnt not to skimp on pre-flight checks. We checked the skis thoroughly before the first take off of the day, but now there's the nagging doubt that something went wrong when we landed at Alpe d'Huez which might have caused the accident, and which we didn't spot in the cursory checks we made before leaving.
I also learnt how shoulder straps stop you from getting hurt. With lap straps only, there is no doubt that both of us would be in hospital now looking somewhat battered - at best.
Also, survival equipment can come in useful. The handheld radio and mobile phone got help on its way quickly. The boots, coats, hats and gloves that seemed a bit over-the-top in the spring sunshine were certainly welcome when we were waiting for the helicopter.
Finally, fate exists. It doesn't matter how experienced you are.
Not the most cheerful post for a Saturday evening.... and certainly not the shortest! Sorry about that!:O