I still intend to report my 'speed kit' results though the kit isn't fitted
yet.
Meanwhile, here's an account which faithfully records my weekend trip to
Jersey,
and sounds a cautionary note as to how quickly and unexpectedly weather can
deteriorate.
We all know how frustrating it is to be forced to divert. However, it's an
inevitable part of flying any distance within the UK. It will happen to all
keen
pilots, probably more than once during the course of their flying
activities.
It's vital to know when to quit. CFIT is probably the most common accident
in
general aviation. The lesson is particularly relevant, given the Europa's
cross
country capabilities.
My decision to fly to Jersey was taken around mid-day on Saturday 11th.
The
weekend forecast for the channel looked fairly satisfactory and I had
planned
the short sea crossing (actually, the long sea crossing!, shortest
routing)
from St Catherine's point, Isle of Wight via Cap la Hag on the
Cherbourg
Peninsula. Nearly 70 unbroken miles of open water make this a fairly
daunting
undertaking in a single engine aeroplane. Confidence in one's
engine is
vital. A lifejacket is essential. Reports that the aircraft should
float, do
not diminish the hazards associated with a ditching with its subsequent
risks
of exposure.
In nearly 400 hours of operation, my Rotax 912 has never stopped without
good
reason. I considered that I could trust it for this critical half-hour.
Traditionally, I have filed and faxed my flight plan and customs form
---From my
home PC. The whole procedure is straightforward and takes about 15
minutes.
On this day, my plan specified that I communicate with a
succession of
controllers on different frequencies in an unbroken sequence. Firstly,
London
Information would activate the plan. As I passed the 50 degree north
latitude
line mid-channel I would leave the London FIR and would be passed on to
Lille
in France.
Thermal buffeting accompanied the first hour of the flight as I
struggled
against a moderate headwind and headed out from Braintree, Essex. I flew
out
over the Thames, then abeam the Mayfield radio beacon south east of
the
Gatwick Zone and out over the Solent towards Sandown, Isle Of Wight and
then
onwards over the channel.
The Terra transceiver was now, true to form, proving to be
intermittently
unreliable. My slow spoken English was virtually unintelligible to
the
French controller despite the altitude (4,500ft) and by now clear
'line of
sight' out across the North coast of France. Behind me, 50 miles astern
lay
the Isle of Wight and England. Ahead to the right was the silhouette of
Sark,
Alderney and in the distance, Jersey, a dark smudge on the horizon
of an
unbroken ocean. The autopilot engaged, and with the transponder at
mode
charlie, I could relax and take in the breathtaking views. On the left
and
below I could see Omaha and Utah beaches, where so many had perished
one
fateful day in June in 1944. The air was smooth, the engine
re-assuringly
steady.
Jersey airspace is special VFR only. My aircraft was radar vectored to
the
south of the island and stacked at 2,500ft giving way to priority
commercial
traffic. The arrival rate appeared to approach one per minute.
General
aviation is not encouraged during the summer's peak teatime Saturday
rush,
though I wasn't to know this at the time. In sequence, I spoke in
turn to
Jersey approach, Jersey tower and subsequently to Jersey ground.
Finally I was instructed to join left base and final. The descent was
smooth
and uneventful as I passed over Jersey's secluded bays, the
scenic
attractions, the zoo, and the location of the wartime underground
hospital
(all sites I would visit later). I touched the long tarmac runway
2hrs 12
mins after starting the clock, only to be frustrated by a further 10 min
wait
on the busy taxiway behind departing aircraft.
Allowing (subtracting) for stacking, take-off and landing, my en-route
time
was just under 2hrs against a moderate headwind. (213 Nm direct
routing,
ground track probably nearer to 220) Once again my 'rule of thumb' 110
knot
cross-country 'mean' had turned out to be impressively accurate. I
later
learned that my aircraft had used exactly 36 litres of fuel
(Circa 16
litres/hr), partly due to the fact that the trip had purposefully been
flown
at a slightly lower cruising RPM (circa 5000), though half of the flight
was
at around 4000 feet. A real surprise awaited me though. I was
delighted to
discover that 100LL is charged at 47p/litre, due no doubt to Jersey's low
tax
regime.
Car hire was organised by the helpful ground staff. 28 for 24hr hire
of a
spanking new Ford Ka, with no fuel charge at all. Airfield overnight
parking
was free for 7 days and the landing fee was a paltry 6. Despite the
busy
season, satisfactory local B&B was arranged for 28. I spent a
pleasant
evening and most of the following day on the holiday Isle,
blessed by
beautiful calm weather.
Checking TAF's for the return journey gave no indication of what
was to
follow. Southampton, Gatwick and Stansted gave around 8km of so,
with a
broken 1200 ft cloud base. The initial departure from Jersey was
accomplished
on a calm summer evening with over 50 km visibility. As I headed out over
the
ocean and spoke to Jersey and London respectively I became
increasingly
uneasy and was forced to declare a gradual decent from 2,500ft due to
heavy
stratus cloud from above. 2000ft came first, then 1500, then 1000 and
finally
500ft. Ground speed approached a reassuring 180 mph, assisted by a fresh
wind
from astern.
The calm air mass gave way to a more turbulent airflow. By now I
was
struggling to hold course and was being buffeted by sporadic gusts
forcing
uncontrolled 15-degree rolls to left and right.
The sea state was rough. White horses were festooned across the dark
and
forbidding channel. Eventually, St Catherine's Point lighthouse
beacon
emerged from the gloom, less than a mile to the north. The top of the
cliffs
appeared shrouded in cloud. My moving map GPS gave position and track,
and I
quickly deduced that a northeasterly course keeping Sandown and
Bembridge to
my near left was the safest option. As I passed close to the
coastline I
vectored for landfall around the lowland to the east of Portsmouth.
Seven
anxious minutes followed with fresh gusts buffeting the flimsy aircraft.
The
dark cloudbase of less than 600 feet meant that reaction time was
down to
just a few seconds at this speed and altitude.
Eventually the coast of England emerged from the gloom. I was
(barely)
talking to Goodwood Information on my unreliable transceiver. A few
moments
of uncertainty followed as I wondered what my next course of action
should
be. High ground to the north and east presented an impenetrable barrier.
East
along the shoreline would have been irresponsible with the sharp sea
cliffs
of the south coast and Beachy Head just a short distance. Climbing out
would
have been foolish as in all probability the weather would only
deteriorate.
It was clearly not VMC. Goodwood airfield lay ahead, nestling in a
shallow
hollow.
"Goodwood information, diversion required. Request circuit height
and
direction please ?".
By now the weather was so bad, that a standard right hand circuit was
not
practical. With 800 ft hills to the northeast I would have been forced
into
cloud. Instead, I executed a shallow left turn onto a short final for
the
into wind runway. The sporadic turbulence disappeared miraculously just
below
100 ft and I made an uneventful touchdown on Goodwood grass.
Airfield staff were courteous and helpful. B&B (40) was arranged near
the
airfield and I settled down for the night. I clearly wasn't going
anywhere.
The mist and cloud descended further.
The following morning I arose at 6 o'clock and gazed out the window
and
quickly ascertained that the MET was once again at odds with the
forecast.
Patches of blue sky above were clearly visible.
I hurried to the airfield and with my indemnity form already signed,
made an
early departure at five to seven. The weather was still patchy. Low
cloud
hugged the coastline. North of Gatwick there was ominous gloom. I
rattled
back to Rayne at 155 mph in just over 35 minutes once again pursued
by a
brisk southwesterly.
Aeroplane safely stowed in the hanger; I hurried home for a much-needed
bath
and change of clothes. I was at my desk by quarter to nine!
Summary:
MET is frequently imprecise. Even short TAF's can be wrong and the
south
coast of England is infamous for this sort of unpredictability. I
probably
couldn't have anticipated the magnitude of the deterioration prior to
take
off.
Turn back?
I could have done. The flight over water would have been
significantly
extended, and this may well have been my ultimate decision had I not
been
able to rely on radio contact.
Land sooner?
Bembridge was indeed an option. I spotted the runway on my speedy
flypast!
However, the cliffs on the island were producing significant,
uncomfortable
and unpredictable rotor.
Press on?
Ehhh, ... no !
What was the real level of risk?
In principal, short of an unexpected airprox. with other unknown
traffic in
falling visibility not particularly high, provided one remains calm,
decisive
and is prepared to follow training and good sense. Experiences such as
these
keenly focus the mind to the job in hand and make one aware that it is
vital
to make the correct decision about continued flight in deteriorating
MET,
whatever personal pressures one feels to press on.
The extra 40 and a few hours of inconvenience were a small price to pay
for
a successful weekend.
Goodwood, in common with other airfields make no charge for a diversion and
precautionary landing. I wonder why?
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