Sat Aug 14, 2021 8:37 am
#1864787
With the closing down of flights to France and beyond my logbook looks a very sad thing with lots of twenty minutes or half hour 'locals' enlivened only by an instructor hour, great fun as ever, and a trip to Shoreham for a weekend getaway.
Yesterday, with Mrs P wreaking havoc on London with her bestie I had decided that either Cornwall or Scotland had to be on the agenda, as both are a decent flight from Norfolk.
Using everything Dr Keeling had taught me I chose Cornwall. There was a slight issue with a forecast 20-30 kt headwind, I decided that long flights are all very well, but even so, to minimise the flight time I would take it at low level, around 1,000ft AGL all the way. It was a wasted decision as the weather didn't permit a VFR pilot to get above about 1,800ft anyway
Over Wiltshire and Somerset I was gradually being forced further and further south of the planned track and started to have doubts about the whole enterprise, a lot of random swerves were needed to avoid heavy showers, my recorded track is not a thing of beauty including a fair amount of avoiding towns and airfield bearing in my the height I was flying.
It was fairly peaceful though, listening-in on Luton and Bristol yielded very limited entertainment or information, I was starting to think I might investigate playing music through the headset in future.
Eventually, through a gap in the shower I spotted the north coast of Cornwall from where the nice chaps at St Mawgan took me to "field in sight" of the old RNAS Vulture. AKA St Merryn after the local village.
Organising the visit was simple, an e-mail the night before resulted in a request to phone Francis, the guy who runs the farm which the airfield is part of. He gave a decent brief, he's obviously a pilot, including the all important, how to get out of it to civilisation, tips.
The choice of three runways is useful for taildragger types with the coastal winds being a feature. They look to be in awful condition, but in fact they are pretty sound, over the years farm carts have dropped soil all over them, grass has sprung up and the appearance is not pretty, but these bumpy little tussocks aren't a threat to the prop, a problem with many WW2 airfields today.
The little hut has an honesty box and a few bits of local information, such as taxi numbers.
The weak frontal system that had been causing all the issues had mostly blown through as in the photograph above, it was turning into quite a pleasant day. In retrospect I should have just called a cab to take me to Padstow, but I had already decided that the objective of the mission was real Cornish pasties, rather than expensive seafood and I would walk to the village.
I set off through the ruins of the old domestic site, a little more dilapidated than when I first visited some forty years back on a camping holiday
I quite like the way nature is reclaiming the old sites of conflict, some of the buildings are now barely discernable under mounds of ivy and bushes, and they are peaceful places, a contrast to their intended purpose and a great deal preferable to loads of ticky-tacky boxes along Spitfire Way and Catalina Close.
I have to own up to a mistake here. The village is about thirty minutes walk away and I had fondly imagined strolling down quiet country lanes, listening to birdsong and waving at the odd cheery farmer leaning on his five bar gate and chatting about the prospects for this year's clotted cream harvest.
What I had missed was this was the height of lockdown summer holidays and Cornish lanes have much in common with the bocage of Normandy, high hedges either side and no footpaths. The traffic was heavy too, involving much backing into nettle-rich banks whilst jolly caravanners tried to miss each other, and me. I would never advise that as a walk, hence the title of the thread. Get to St Merryn airfield, phone a cab and go to Padstow.
Once in the village I was greeted with a wonderful sight, a bakery with a huge queue.
Guessing this had to be the right place I joined the queue. It moved fairly quickly, and I left via the socially distancing back door to sit in front of the shop with my prized, three-hundred quid pasties. Mission accomplished.
My plan was to eat one and take one home with me. I failed. I ate both.
There is a village pub. I took a look at it and it seemed pretty decent. Had I been in the mood for a meal then it would have been a good option.
The airfield lack fuel, of course. In fact to call it an airfield is probably misleading, it is a farm with big runways. There is an aircraft maintenance company in one of the hangars, I dropped in and chatted to a couple of chaps on their afternoon fag break. I suspect that, if asked nicely and slipped a few quid, overnight housing of an aeroplane could be possible - but that's opinion, for heavens sake don't tell them I suggested it.
The RV just about has the legs to make the return journey, but, with the weather as it was that wasn't a risk I was happy to take, possibly ending up with me short of fuel over Norfolk and looking for a weather diversion if Tibenham was out of the question. So the next leg saw me dropping into Dunkeswell for a top up. Oh.. and a slice of flapjack. In fact I needn't have worried as I would have landed with 22 litres on board and the weather once I returned to the East was near perfect, especially the 20 knot tailwind, offering a lovely headwind for landing, right down one of the base runways.
Stats:
Tibenham to St Merryn, 275 nm, 2 hours 13 minutes
St Merryn to Dunkeswell, 75 nm, 34 minutes
Dunkeswell to Tibenham, 196 nm, 1 hour 16 minutes
118 litres consumed
Yesterday, with Mrs P wreaking havoc on London with her bestie I had decided that either Cornwall or Scotland had to be on the agenda, as both are a decent flight from Norfolk.
Using everything Dr Keeling had taught me I chose Cornwall. There was a slight issue with a forecast 20-30 kt headwind, I decided that long flights are all very well, but even so, to minimise the flight time I would take it at low level, around 1,000ft AGL all the way. It was a wasted decision as the weather didn't permit a VFR pilot to get above about 1,800ft anyway
Over Wiltshire and Somerset I was gradually being forced further and further south of the planned track and started to have doubts about the whole enterprise, a lot of random swerves were needed to avoid heavy showers, my recorded track is not a thing of beauty including a fair amount of avoiding towns and airfield bearing in my the height I was flying.
It was fairly peaceful though, listening-in on Luton and Bristol yielded very limited entertainment or information, I was starting to think I might investigate playing music through the headset in future.
Eventually, through a gap in the shower I spotted the north coast of Cornwall from where the nice chaps at St Mawgan took me to "field in sight" of the old RNAS Vulture. AKA St Merryn after the local village.
Organising the visit was simple, an e-mail the night before resulted in a request to phone Francis, the guy who runs the farm which the airfield is part of. He gave a decent brief, he's obviously a pilot, including the all important, how to get out of it to civilisation, tips.
The choice of three runways is useful for taildragger types with the coastal winds being a feature. They look to be in awful condition, but in fact they are pretty sound, over the years farm carts have dropped soil all over them, grass has sprung up and the appearance is not pretty, but these bumpy little tussocks aren't a threat to the prop, a problem with many WW2 airfields today.
The little hut has an honesty box and a few bits of local information, such as taxi numbers.
The weak frontal system that had been causing all the issues had mostly blown through as in the photograph above, it was turning into quite a pleasant day. In retrospect I should have just called a cab to take me to Padstow, but I had already decided that the objective of the mission was real Cornish pasties, rather than expensive seafood and I would walk to the village.
I set off through the ruins of the old domestic site, a little more dilapidated than when I first visited some forty years back on a camping holiday
I quite like the way nature is reclaiming the old sites of conflict, some of the buildings are now barely discernable under mounds of ivy and bushes, and they are peaceful places, a contrast to their intended purpose and a great deal preferable to loads of ticky-tacky boxes along Spitfire Way and Catalina Close.
I have to own up to a mistake here. The village is about thirty minutes walk away and I had fondly imagined strolling down quiet country lanes, listening to birdsong and waving at the odd cheery farmer leaning on his five bar gate and chatting about the prospects for this year's clotted cream harvest.
What I had missed was this was the height of lockdown summer holidays and Cornish lanes have much in common with the bocage of Normandy, high hedges either side and no footpaths. The traffic was heavy too, involving much backing into nettle-rich banks whilst jolly caravanners tried to miss each other, and me. I would never advise that as a walk, hence the title of the thread. Get to St Merryn airfield, phone a cab and go to Padstow.
Once in the village I was greeted with a wonderful sight, a bakery with a huge queue.
Guessing this had to be the right place I joined the queue. It moved fairly quickly, and I left via the socially distancing back door to sit in front of the shop with my prized, three-hundred quid pasties. Mission accomplished.
My plan was to eat one and take one home with me. I failed. I ate both.
There is a village pub. I took a look at it and it seemed pretty decent. Had I been in the mood for a meal then it would have been a good option.
The airfield lack fuel, of course. In fact to call it an airfield is probably misleading, it is a farm with big runways. There is an aircraft maintenance company in one of the hangars, I dropped in and chatted to a couple of chaps on their afternoon fag break. I suspect that, if asked nicely and slipped a few quid, overnight housing of an aeroplane could be possible - but that's opinion, for heavens sake don't tell them I suggested it.
The RV just about has the legs to make the return journey, but, with the weather as it was that wasn't a risk I was happy to take, possibly ending up with me short of fuel over Norfolk and looking for a weather diversion if Tibenham was out of the question. So the next leg saw me dropping into Dunkeswell for a top up. Oh.. and a slice of flapjack. In fact I needn't have worried as I would have landed with 22 litres on board and the weather once I returned to the East was near perfect, especially the 20 knot tailwind, offering a lovely headwind for landing, right down one of the base runways.
Stats:
Tibenham to St Merryn, 275 nm, 2 hours 13 minutes
St Merryn to Dunkeswell, 75 nm, 34 minutes
Dunkeswell to Tibenham, 196 nm, 1 hour 16 minutes
118 litres consumed
Last edited by Rob P on Sat Aug 14, 2021 3:25 pm, edited 19 times in total.
"We sleep soundly in our beds because rough men stand ready
in the night to visit violence on those who would do us harm."
- George Orwell-
in the night to visit violence on those who would do us harm."
- George Orwell-