Pilot September 2017

106 | Pilot September 2017 http://www.pilotweb.aero

A

fter receiving my pristine PPL(A)
licence from the CAA, I went on
lots of jaunts around the country
and added a significant number
of hours to the logbook. And
then there were more badges to collect:
IMC, night rating, tailwheel. So then what?
Helicopters, of course!
So, with a mint PPL(H), I did all the
standard stuff — landing in friends’ gardens,
arriving on an H where it meant hotel as
well as helicopter, and so on. Then I realised
that a great opportunity for a grade one trip
was before my eyes.
One of my good friends was approaching
his fiftieth birthday. He was a car
enthusiast. An engineer by training, he built
cars and was active in amateur events but
was so busy with his own cars that he had
never been to a Grand Prix. So I organised
his special birthday present — a ticket to the
British Grand Prix in July and delivery there
and back, from his home in Hampshire to
Silverstone by helicopter. A diminutive
Robinson R22 was booked out to me from
my training school at Denham, Bucks, on
the northern edge of Heathrow’s TMA.
The Sunday morning was blue skies with
occasional fluffy white clouds, very light
winds and temperatures forecast to be in
the mid-twenties. Couldn’t have been better.
The plan was to fly to Hampshire, collect
the birthday boy from his garden, then fly
to Turweston Aerodrome, less than three
miles from Silverstone. To fly into
Silverstone you need a CPL(H) so hundreds
of PPL(H)s and PPL(A)s follow the well
established practice of ‘landing down the
road’, enjoying a high quality hot breakfast
and then being transported cross-country
by a fleet of vehicles to Silverstone.
The first part of the plan went like a
dream; the flight down to Hampshire arrived
exactly on time. Passenger collected, Flight
002 lifted on schedule and arrived at the
Silverstone proxy at the prescribed time. We
were then driven across the fields and down
a few lanes to enter the circuit at Stowe
Corner. We enjoyed a lovely sunny day, a
small picnic and entertaining racing but,
boy, was it hot.
After a few hours in the July sun, we
picked up our transport shuttle at Stowe
and returned to the airfield. Then it was a
prompt start and lift and an hour’s flight

back to Hampshire. After landing in the

garden I was invited to stay for a cup of tea

but said, “Thanks but no thanks”. It was

early evening by then and I needed to start

the fourth leg of the detail and return the

helicopter to its base. Although the mission

had not been difficult, it had been a long

and hot day and I was looking forward to

completing four hours of flying and putting

my feet up.

Everything was working to plan as I

progressed towards home and I noted some

of the familiar landmarks as I tracked

north-east. FREDA checks normal, empty

skies, no radio chatter — everything fine.

I was about five or six miles from home

when I realised I couldn’t see my base or

any of the familiar surrounding features.

Not always easy to see under perfect

conditions, I turned my attention to spotting

some of the area landmarks. They weren’t

where I thought they should be.

I continued on the heading. I was on track

so something familiar must show itself soon.

Visibility was OK although the sun was

getting lower as evening asked to take over

from day. Still nothing. Slow down — give

yourself a chance. I reduced power and took

fifteen knots off my speed. I called the

airfield frequency but, as expected,

everybody had gone home a couple of

hours before.

This had been going on for too long. I

must have overshot; that’s why there’s

nothing familiar down there. I made a 180

degree turn and flew the reciprocal. After a

couple of minutes heading south-west I

realised that if I did not spot the airfield

(and I was flying into a setting sun) I could

shortly be in the Heathrow TMA and that

would be a very expensive incursion.

So I turned north, figuring I should be

able to find some other landmarks. Relieved

to be flying away from Heathrow, I reasoned

that the worst that could happen on this

track would be an unplanned view of

southern Birmingham. No, that’s wrong, the

worst that could happen would be running

out of fuel. This was a light helicopter with a

relatively small fuel tank and it was now low

on juice.

I wasn’t panicked but I was worried. I

could fly the helicopter safely but my brain

wasn’t working well and I was losing

confidence in my decision making. Then my

very tired, fried brain managed one (final)

good idea: call 121.5. Distress and Diversion

answered immediately. “London Centre,

pass your message.”

“G-XXXX is an R22 from a private site

near YYYY to Denham, 1,500 feet on 1027,

temporarily uncertain of my position and

unable to navigate accurately because of

the setting sun.“

They asked me to continue flying north

and a minute or so later asked me if I could

see a motorway directly below me. I

certainly could, I’d been using that as a vital

reference point. The problem was that I

didn’t know whether it was the northerly

heading section of the M25 or the M1.

“Affirm, G-XX.”

“G-XX, take up a heading of 165 degrees

and your airfield is seven miles from your

current position. Call the field on 130.725.”

“165 degrees and seven miles. Their

frequency is closed, I’ve tried them.” “OK,

stay with us on this frequency until you’re

ready to let down.”

Seven miles and five minutes later, field in

sight and ready to let down, I signed off

from D & D and thanked them profusely. At

the airfield I hover-taxied to the hangars,

held over the H and performed a clumsy

let-down. As I sat there waiting for the

engine to come down to temperature to

disengage the rotor clutch, I felt so tired I

wanted to go to sleep there and then. A

long and boiling hot day plus four hours of

flying was definitely a formula for tiredness.

So, what did I learn from the experience?

First, to be more aware of what will

contribute to tiredness and to allow for it.

Second, confirming what I already knew,

D & D are always available to help. Third —

and most important — call early and ask

D & D for help in good time. Do it before an

incipient problem becomes a nightmare.

Make your call before the ball of wool

starts to unravel.

Before the ball of wool starts to unravel

When tiredness after a long hot day coincides with the evening’s setting

sun and disappearing landmarks, who do you call?

By Keith Cameron

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