Dovetails, Ale and a quiet half hour.
Having been slave to “K’s” workbench all day, it is most pleasant to sit in a very comfortable chair, Ale at my elbow, cool breeze through the excellent ‘Judas Gate’ in the new stable door; workshop swept and things put to rights; tools clean - finished tidy. Time to catch up with AP. Dutifully read the Gazette: this paragraph prompted one of those ‘reflective’ periods, where you try to puzzle out how an accidents (multiple – annually) of the type under discussion just keep happening.
Bollocks! – pure, plain, simple, unadulterated balderdash. The ‘things’ which have caused multiple, recurring deaths are (a) bad weather; (b) low cloud and rain; © bad weather, low cloud, bad planning and Oh! Bad weather and rising terrain. Did I mention flight continued into unsuitable weather condition? Now not even a demi god of convoluted Bollocks can control that phenomenon. There was a King, name of Canute from memory, who tried to turn back the tide. He had about as much luck with that as Aleck has controlling the weather; despite his ‘god complex’.
Tiz troo. The answer of course is a simple one, pilots keep doing it and a combination of bad luck, bad judgement, bad weather and vertical dirt at a higher level than the aircraft keep claiming victims; but of “what” - exactly.
Many, many years ago (when the sky was misty and the Earth was soft) a very young TOM, newly qualified PPL, building hours toward CPL was returning an owners aircraft (peerless PA28) to home base. Log book notes departure Lismore (NSW East coast) to Bankstown (Sydney secondary); the weather a typical South Easterly ‘stream’. Low cloud; lots of rain, poor visibility and a headwind to boot. Coastal was planned, in those days ALL flights were ‘full reporting’ and one had to either be ‘on time’ or amend ETA – or else. Ye Gods: the China graph pencil, plastic covered WAC; six minute marks and the ‘splay’ (off track lines) – Ah me.
Anyway – I had all the Notams and a weather brief; so off I toddled. Worked toward the coast, amended times as requested and required; being conscious of losing time, lowering cloud and stepping around rain bands. Always; with the voices of half a dozen experienced instructors repeating their advice; - “can you get out of this to a safe landing?”. Time to shorten a long story: with a defined ‘back door' and estimate to a viable aerodrome always available; I pushed on, lower, slower and short on official daylight. Legal, sure, but not a consideration under dark, lowering skies and horrible weather. Got to the point where I thought OK, if I can’t see (whatever it was) – the next landing option is Aero Pelican at Swansea – very close to home – however. No money, no kit, not even a jacket, I stepped around a rain band, pulled the pin and lobbed into Aero Duck. Even the ‘Pro’ IFR guys flying RPT in the ‘big iron’ C 402 were sitting it out. “Good call youngster” said the lovely chap who marshalled me a parking spot – “best stay with us tonight, grab your gear and let’s get TD out of this bloody rain”. I was blown away, introduced to some of the big guns an given a beer. Happy, happy day’s end. Turned out the chief pilot had been listening to the area VHF – “we listened all the way, thinking if you had any chance of becoming a decent pilot, you’d pull in here; well done” and he shook my hand. Said he rather do that than be at the burial.
“Get to the point old fool” (from the other side of the fireplace). Ah, yes: the point.
The system in those days and the demands of pilot navigation (primitive) ensured that I ‘pay attention’. ETA for a position report at Big Hill needed to be within two minutes. The ‘situational awareness’ created by that; and, the sound, solid advice of qualified, experienced instructors and, being exposed to ‘weather flying’ from the get go; and tales told in the ‘Crash Comic’ and; clear instruction in ‘weather’ assessment; and, DCA examiners who expected you to ‘know’ what you were about, all added up to string of ‘right’ decisions. Later that evening a PA 28 R ‘spun’ out of cloud with oil all over the cowling and windscreen. Lucky ATC and the RAAF were on deck – that also landed at ‘the Duck’. No one went near that aircraft with a Brolly and a handshake.
I rest my case – FWIW. We old folk do tend to ramble on a bit. “Yes boy; silly question; and now, where has DT hidden the cigars this time? (Wink: the dogs always know – they do)…
![[Image: single-frothy-pint-beer-burning-600w-483277990.jpg]](https://image.shutterstock.com/image-photo/single-frothy-pint-beer-burning-600w-483277990.jpg)
Having been slave to “K’s” workbench all day, it is most pleasant to sit in a very comfortable chair, Ale at my elbow, cool breeze through the excellent ‘Judas Gate’ in the new stable door; workshop swept and things put to rights; tools clean - finished tidy. Time to catch up with AP. Dutifully read the Gazette: this paragraph prompted one of those ‘reflective’ periods, where you try to puzzle out how an accidents (multiple – annually) of the type under discussion just keep happening.
Bollocks! – pure, plain, simple, unadulterated balderdash. The ‘things’ which have caused multiple, recurring deaths are (a) bad weather; (b) low cloud and rain; © bad weather, low cloud, bad planning and Oh! Bad weather and rising terrain. Did I mention flight continued into unsuitable weather condition? Now not even a demi god of convoluted Bollocks can control that phenomenon. There was a King, name of Canute from memory, who tried to turn back the tide. He had about as much luck with that as Aleck has controlling the weather; despite his ‘god complex’.
Tiz troo. The answer of course is a simple one, pilots keep doing it and a combination of bad luck, bad judgement, bad weather and vertical dirt at a higher level than the aircraft keep claiming victims; but of “what” - exactly.
Many, many years ago (when the sky was misty and the Earth was soft) a very young TOM, newly qualified PPL, building hours toward CPL was returning an owners aircraft (peerless PA28) to home base. Log book notes departure Lismore (NSW East coast) to Bankstown (Sydney secondary); the weather a typical South Easterly ‘stream’. Low cloud; lots of rain, poor visibility and a headwind to boot. Coastal was planned, in those days ALL flights were ‘full reporting’ and one had to either be ‘on time’ or amend ETA – or else. Ye Gods: the China graph pencil, plastic covered WAC; six minute marks and the ‘splay’ (off track lines) – Ah me.
Anyway – I had all the Notams and a weather brief; so off I toddled. Worked toward the coast, amended times as requested and required; being conscious of losing time, lowering cloud and stepping around rain bands. Always; with the voices of half a dozen experienced instructors repeating their advice; - “can you get out of this to a safe landing?”. Time to shorten a long story: with a defined ‘back door' and estimate to a viable aerodrome always available; I pushed on, lower, slower and short on official daylight. Legal, sure, but not a consideration under dark, lowering skies and horrible weather. Got to the point where I thought OK, if I can’t see (whatever it was) – the next landing option is Aero Pelican at Swansea – very close to home – however. No money, no kit, not even a jacket, I stepped around a rain band, pulled the pin and lobbed into Aero Duck. Even the ‘Pro’ IFR guys flying RPT in the ‘big iron’ C 402 were sitting it out. “Good call youngster” said the lovely chap who marshalled me a parking spot – “best stay with us tonight, grab your gear and let’s get TD out of this bloody rain”. I was blown away, introduced to some of the big guns an given a beer. Happy, happy day’s end. Turned out the chief pilot had been listening to the area VHF – “we listened all the way, thinking if you had any chance of becoming a decent pilot, you’d pull in here; well done” and he shook my hand. Said he rather do that than be at the burial.
“Get to the point old fool” (from the other side of the fireplace). Ah, yes: the point.
The system in those days and the demands of pilot navigation (primitive) ensured that I ‘pay attention’. ETA for a position report at Big Hill needed to be within two minutes. The ‘situational awareness’ created by that; and, the sound, solid advice of qualified, experienced instructors and, being exposed to ‘weather flying’ from the get go; and tales told in the ‘Crash Comic’ and; clear instruction in ‘weather’ assessment; and, DCA examiners who expected you to ‘know’ what you were about, all added up to string of ‘right’ decisions. Later that evening a PA 28 R ‘spun’ out of cloud with oil all over the cowling and windscreen. Lucky ATC and the RAAF were on deck – that also landed at ‘the Duck’. No one went near that aircraft with a Brolly and a handshake.
I rest my case – FWIW. We old folk do tend to ramble on a bit. “Yes boy; silly question; and now, where has DT hidden the cigars this time? (Wink: the dogs always know – they do)…