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Bob Grimstead
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Posted Monday, April 2, 2012 @ 03:58 AM  

Nobody else seems to want to print it, so you guys get to see the exclusive...

No, it's nothing like as all-encompassing as either of Brendan O'Brien's long European Fournier tours, but it's the longest I've done so far, and I did it alone.

To Norway by Volkswagen
or
Beetling around Northern Europe
by Bob Grimstead

Popular aviation wisdom suggests that for European touring you need as a minimum, a reliable Lycoming engine, a GPS, VOR, ADF, an ELT, a transponder and at least one VHF radio.
But you don’t!

In August 2009 I flew to central Scandinavia in my Fournier RF4D RedHawk using just my eyes, my thumb, some charts and a wibbly-wobbly compass. Yes, I had a battery-powered radio, but I used it very little – why seek ATC’s distraction or obstruction? Oh, and my Fournier’s frugal, 1400cc engine came from a Volkswagen Beetle.

Why go all that way? An article I wrote about flying aerobatics for London’s Red Bull Air Race caught the eyes of Swedish airshow organisers at Dala-Järna’s Flygfesten www.flygfesten.com and Rygge’s Norwegian Aviation Centenary www.ryggeairshow.no so they invited me to display for them, agreeing to pay my costs. It was over twenty years since I last crossed the Channel in a lightplane, and I had never done so alone – clearly some preparation was needed.

BEAUREAUCRACY AND PACKING
For each 900nm, near straight-line journey I would traverse eight countries speaking nine languages and using four currencies, so I popped down to the bank for a variety of folding money.

Transair at Shoreham confirmed I would need no fewer than ten charts (costing over £200, nearly as much as the round-trip fuel!). They had almost all I wanted, mainly in the familiar half-million scale, but they didn’t have one of Northern Germany, and for Norway only a large scale map of the Oslo vicinity. Still, the Swedish charts seemed excellent, and covered the area I needed. I would have to make do. Only now did I realise Sweden’s enormous size, covering no fewer than eight half-million charts from top to bottom, and I needed four of them!

All those FIR boundaries en-route meant I would have to file ten ATC flight plans each way, so I nicked one of Shoreham’s flight plan pads.

Here are the charts and flight plan forms laid out on the floor.

Everywhere but Norway subscribes to the Schengen agreement, so once over the Channel my only Customs requirement would be notes on my Norwegian entry and departure flight plans.

Europe recently brought in a requirement for GA aircraft to have an Emergency Locator Transmitter (ELT). This is a complete and utter waste of our money. The FAA once mandated ELTs in America, but subsequently found that despite thousands of false alerts, when aircraft actually crashed the ELTs were rarely triggered! Luckily there are dispensations for European gliders and British lightplanes to carry a Personal Location Beacon (PLB) instead. So I bought a discounted McMurdo Fast Find through the Aeronca Club.

Lacking a transponder, I would be constrained below 1,500 feet in the Netherlands, but that should be little problem in the Low Countries, and lacking a mixture control I rarely climb above 3,000 feet anyway.

My 42 year-old Fournier operates on a Permit to Fly rather than a C of A, permitting much simpler and cheaper operation. A couple of years ago this became an EASA document, simplifying continental travel, but I still had to write to those non-EU Norwegians for overflight permission.

Then all I needed was my passport and the aircraft’s documents. All this paperwork, my ten charts (carefully folded and filed in order), an outdated Aerad flight guide, ruler, protractor and that purloined flight-plan pad went into a plastic bag beside me in the cockpit.

My other packing would be more problematic because a Fournier’s luggage compartment is small and there is little spare space in the cockpit. I needed twenty marine distress smoke canisters for displays and practices. Four went into the wingtip pods and the others fitted neatly in the wedge-shaped space behind my seat-back. In here would also go my Australian Screw-it pickets, a compact tool kit and a few spares – four spark plugs, two of the notoriously fragile nylon outrigger legs, my aerobatic fuel cap and a litre of oil. These heavy things were by my backside, thereby minimising centre of gravity effects.


[Edit by Bob Grimstead on Monday, April 2, 2012 @ 04:25 AM]

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Flying and displaying Fournier RF4Ds VH-HDO and G-AWGN, building replica RF6B G-RFGB and custodian of RF6B prototype F-BPXV

Bob Grimstead
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Posted Monday, April 2, 2012 @ 04:08 AM  

Small items (including the PLB) would fit into my flying overalls’ zippered pockets, and most of the time I would be wearing my lifejacket, sunglasses and gloves, although I should make provision for stowing these things. A couple of bottles of water, sandwiches and chocolate bars would go beside the battery by my left calf, but the equivalent space on the right held the mainwheel’s retraction mechanism. A plastic duty-free litre of brandy neatly fitted behind my left elbow (I was taking no chances on overnight contentment).

I hoped to stay in hotels, but it seemed prudent to carry a one-man tent and sleeping bag. Although light, these almost filled the baggage area behind my head, but space remained for a soft overnight bag with a week’s clothes and two home-made loaves of gluten-free bread.

My route was dictated by three things: aircraft range, Fournier-friendliness and nightstop accommodation. The low-drag RF4D is incredibly flexible. At 2,200rpm it will do 65mph for eight hours, giving a theoretical 450nm range. But winds make a mockery of this, so more practical settings are 85 mph and 9.5 litres per hour. The tank holds 36 litres, giving a safe rage of maybe 250nm. I would plan on 200-mile legs, flying three per day if possible.

Starting from Goodwood, I could easily make Holland, but after hearing horror stories of bossy bureaucracy and the wilful impounding of inadvertently errant light aeroplanes by authoritarian Dutch officials, I decided to overfly their whole country. Years before, in the Turbulent Team we had been welcomed at Wevelgem (Kortrijk/Courtrai). They had fuel, all-day Customs and a café, so that would be my first stop.

Our Fournier Forum friend, Jorgen Ästrad, flew this route a few years earlier in his RF4D, and recommended Leer in Northern Germany as being glider-friendly, so that would be my second destination. Jorgen overnighted at another gliding field, Flensburg on the Baltic coast, and I would do likewise. Day two, leg one would get me to Jorgen’s airstrip near Malmö, after which I would follow his advice.

There was a fortnight gap between my Swedish and Norwegian displays, but fellow journalist Jennifer Chisholm-Høibråten had arranged hangarage for me at Kjeller, near Oslo. After my Norwegian show I intended returning to Flensburg and re-tracing my previous steps. In each direction I would allow three days for my planned two-day journeys – I’m no fool.

SALLYING FORTH
Unfortunately, the fortnight before departure was complicated. Heavy rain foiled my planned appearance at Lake Windermere, and forced me to abandon my aeroplane at the Staffordshire Gliding Club, Seighford, returning home bedraggled by train. Thereafter my wife and I took a pre-booked holiday in southern France. To depart for Scandinavia on time, I had to abandon Karen and baggage in the arrivals building, sprint for the Gatwick Express, and Virgin Rail it back to Stafford, where fellow Fournicator Paul Cooper drove me to the airfield. A late afternoon get-away

and high-speed two-hour transit saw me at Goodwood shortly before nightfall.

Then, almost inevitably, a summer depression blew in. The furthest I could progress on a murky day one was 18nm along the coast to Shoreham, and that was pushing it. Re-planning overnight, I set off again as soon as Customs were open to stay ahead of another impending warm front.

Heading for Lydd under threatening clouds, I called London Information and turned right for 23 miles of sea, climbing when I could to 6,000 feet. Visual navigation over the Channel held no qualms, since that’s how we did it in Tiger Club Turbulents two-and-a-half decades ago and, with my Fournier’s 20:1 glide angle, I should be able to make the shallows wherever the engine failed.

As Wagon and I coasted-in over Cap Griz Nez the ever-rising clouds broke up, and the sun shone steadily for the rest of this Nordic odyssey. A left turn at the wind farm 11nm inland put us clear of Calais and Gravelines nuclear power station, so I signed off with Lille and enjoyed the radio silence. Heading due east for Wevelgem I called up and landed, slightly cramped but relieved after exactly two hours airborne.

Quickly refuelling with just 14 litres, I re-filed before continuing non-radio straight up through the Netherlands (but around its numerous lumps of controlled airspace) at their non-transponder 1,400 feet. The first leg was an 86-mile straight line past Gent, Woensdrecht and the Rhein estuary to a group of obstructions east of Rotterdam. To my surprise and delight, these turned out to be no fewer than twelve classic Dutch windmills, pumping water from polders into the river Lek.

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Flying and displaying Fournier RF4Ds VH-HDO and G-AWGN, building replica RF6B G-RFGB and custodian of RF6B prototype F-BPXV

Bob Grimstead
Captain

Gender: Male
Location: Perth, Western Australia or West Sussex, England
Registered: Dec 2006
Status: Offline
Posts: 2027

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Posted Monday, April 2, 2012 @ 04:15 AM  

A gentle left briefly took me over highly industrial areas between Amsterdam and Utrecht towards Pampus VOR, then it was half right and a straight 102nm run to Leer. I opened my sandwiches and munched happily. This leg was lovely, first coastal, then a succession of wide, flat fields interspersed with estuaries and dykes – perfect for forced landings. Call it odd, but like that little Dutch boy, I’ve always wanted to stick my finger in a dyke. I started taking photographs.

I knew nothing about Leer/Papenburg airfield except its position immediately beside the Dutch border, its 4,000-foot runway and the circled G for ‘gliding’ on its information box. As I approached, I called for the runway in use and was told 26. Looking for it, I was surprised to see a great big observation tower sticking up on downwind. Further chart scrutiny revealed an obscured obstruction symbol but, unable to read its height, I gave it a wide berth.

Turning on to final I was half-blinded by the low sun reflecting off lakes either side of the threshold, which was also surrounded by trees. I landed very carefully.

This 214-mile transit took three hours into wind, but used only 21 litres of fuel. Ten nautical miles per litre or 53.3 miles per gallon – not half bad! When I checked into his office, the keen young assistant had already pulled up a photo of RedHawk, so I directed him to more on Dala-Järna’s Flygfesten web site before pushing on to Flensburg for the night.

But first I needed a map. Leer was on the Netherlands chart, and Flensburg on the Danish sheet, but I lacked one for Northern Germany. Beside Leer’s office/restaurant was an ultralight flying school. Their CFI didn’t have the current chart, but cheerfully gave me a used copy of the previous issue gratis. It showed that tower as only 525 feet – it looked higher.

My last leg was only 115nm (again non-radio) and I was becoming bored, so I opened the throttle and pushed on at 100 mph to get it over with. As I routed over Wilhelmshaven and Cuxhaven on the Heligoland Bight the sky became blue-gold and silky smooth, an orange sun glowing over my left shoulder. It was a lovely end to an adventurous 483nm, 6:40 flying hour day.

Flensburg had both hard and grass runways, so I eagerly opted for the latter, refuelled, unpacked, tied down the Fournier, accepted the airfield owner/manager’s recommendation of accommodation, and took a taxi into town. After a pleasant fish supper and a mobile chat home from this Baltic port, I toppled tired but happy into a clean bed in a modern, but soulless hotel.

DAY TWO

Arriving back at the airfield as it was waking, I watched gliders being towed out by their Volkswagen Kombi bus with its built-in control tower. They were setting up for a potentially great day’s soaring, and parachutists were preparing their huge Antonov biplane, but I had other things to do.

With three international borders and lots of water to cross, I did a bit of serious chart-work, measuring the latitude and longitude of my next destination for the ATC flight plan. This was Jorgen’s airstrip at Staffanstorp. Although we had had never met, Jorgen had provided much help in route planning and offered to meet me with jerry cans of mogas to save money. We kept in touch by SMS, so I texted my ETA.

A further challenge was the need for the three active charts of Germany, Denmark and Southern Sweden in my cramped cockpit. It was important to fold these appropriately and stow them carefully under my left elbow, for transfer to my right when used, otherwise I should suffocate in crumpled paper.

Meticulously filing my flightplan with the taciturn airfield manager I mentally christened ‘Curt’, I notified my ETD as half-an-hour hence and zoomed out to pack, untie and pre-flight my little aeroplane. But when I radioed for departure information, he recalled me to his office. A degree of longitude error put my destination apparently in the Baltic. Although quickly corrected by telephone, this was not an auspicious start to a long, 450-mile day of international cross-country flying.

This was Flensburg immediately after take-off.

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Flying and displaying Fournier RF4Ds VH-HDO and G-AWGN, building replica RF6B G-RFGB and custodian of RF6B prototype F-BPXV

Bob Grimstead
Captain

Gender: Male
Location: Perth, Western Australia or West Sussex, England
Registered: Dec 2006
Status: Offline
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Posted Monday, April 2, 2012 @ 04:23 AM  

As soon as I was airborne, Curt changed me to Copenhagen Information. This was the worst move of the whole trip, despite it being a beautiful, calm, clear summer morning with plenty of coastlines and islands for easy navigation. Having carefully explained my route to the female ATCO as Amrak direct Alsie and Agersø to Lebda, VFR at 3,000 feet, she kept on asking me, ‘are you passing near…’ reeling off military airfields I could not find on the visible bit of my carefully folded chart. Wrestling with this 35- by 40-inch sheet of paper in my cramped, foot-wide cockpit, I quickly lost my cool. Next time I won’t talk to Copenhagen.

Fortunately I was only in Danish airspace for just over an hour before calling Malmö, who were more helpful. Entering Swedish airspace, I could clearly see, ten miles to my north, the long new bridge joining those countries and a huge offshore wind-farm, one of many I saw en route.

Malmö ATC didn’t know my destination, which was just a pencilled cross on my chart, but I had no trouble finding it, and signed off while circling a couple of times for photographs before landing.

Jorgen’s beautiful pastoral airstrip was long, but nearly as narrow as mine, so care was needed. When he showed me the damage to his two-seat RF5B after catching a wing-tip in the surrounding cereal crop I was doubly careful on take-off. As well as this, Jorgen has an RF4D like mine, sharing its rural hangar with a J-3 Cub. What a great place! As good as his word, Jorgen brought Mogas, one 20-litre Jerry can being all I needed.

I asked him where to stop for fuel in the remaining 306nm to Dala-Järna. He suggested a gliding field at Odestugu. Although not marked on the charts (just the town was shown) he said, ‘You can’t miss it, it’s the only strip of grass among all those trees.’ I enquired about transponders and radio but he reassured me ‘we don’t use either. We navigate by lakes.’

Jorgen was right on both counts, numerous irregular-shaped lakes made navigation effortless,

and after the anticipated 1:45 radio-free flying time, Odestugu stood out clearly more than ten miles away as a grass-green slash in the sea of conifers. As advised, I called several times on 123.45, but got no answer.

Circling overhead, I saw the wind was calm and the field sloped downhill from north to south, with buildings at the southern end. Outside sat a Motor Falke, engine running, perpendicular to the runway. I expected such a low-performance motor glider to taxi northwards and take-off downhill, so I carefully joined downwind for a southerly landing, wary of him backtracking the runway. Making normal circuit calls all the way, I straightened on final, wheel down, spoilers out and nicely stabilised when, as I started my flare, he pulled on to the reciprocal threshold, opened up and took off straight towards me.

A blind glider pilot! You don’t get many of those. Quickly closing my spoilers, going to full power and retracting my wheel as I climbed, I turned hard right out of his way, for a further circuit and uneventful landing. At the clubhouse I was met by an older guy who didn’t seem to have witnessed the excitement, helpfully filling my tanks with my first ever unleaded Avgas. His pump read in Kroner as well as litres, so I could stop him at a round number and pay in cash with a single note.

After a brief toilet stop I phoned my Flygfesten host, Kjell Dalsheim to ask if a 7pm arrival would be acceptable. He sounded happy, so I set off on my final, 182nm leg, chugging past Vattern and Vanern, two of Sweden’s biggest lakes.

Further northward the country became wild and deserted and increasingly heavily forested, although I was approximately following a large main road. I remembered Jorgen’s advice, ‘If you have to make a forced landing, go for the lakeshore. Too far offshore, you will sink and rescuers will never find you, but go into the treetops and you’ll fall to earth while the trees close overhead. Searchers still won’t find you, but bears or wolves will!’

Between Oslo and Stockholm the controlled airspace petered out, I suspected a tailwind, and frankly became bored, so I started gently climbing. Approaching 8,000 feet, I tired of even this game, so I lowered Wagon’s nose, increased speed and, still heading due north, pushed on to Dala-Järna, arriving at 6:30pm after just over two hours airborne.

The total distance from Seighford had been 1,084nm, taking 14hr 40min and averaging a 74kt groundspeed. Fuel used was 127.2lit, giving an 8.7lph consumption, or 8.52nm per litre.

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Flying and displaying Fournier RF4Ds VH-HDO and G-AWGN, building replica RF6B G-RFGB and custodian of RF6B prototype F-BPXV

Bob Grimstead
Captain

Gender: Male
Location: Perth, Western Australia or West Sussex, England
Registered: Dec 2006
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Posted Monday, April 2, 2012 @ 04:37 AM  

DALA-JÄRNA
Having seen the excellence and variety of advertised acts on their web site, I was expecting a big airport, but the place was simply one long tarmac runway in a broad grass clearing with a single fifty-foot square hangar and a small wooden clubhouse. Dala and Järna are simply two small towns (one little more than a village) set among the woods.

I was warmly greeted, and Kjell (pronounced ‘Shell’) explained that their first display commemorated the 1945 allied victory. Subsequent shows had followed more-or-less tri-annually thereafter. It seemed that most locals belonged to this flying and gliding club, and absolutely everybody turned out to help for the show. Their farming neighbour even set out rows of white plastic-covered straw bales marking the display lines and crowd centre.

This is the view on Sunday evening, taken from the Catalina's top wing. It was an honour for my Fournier to be parked beside Jurgis's Sukhoi.

Flygfesten was wonderful, with aircraft large and small, new and old, fast and slow, and pilots both local and famous. I parked next to Jurgis Kairys, and shared a log cabin with Bell 47 pilot Stig Aggevall and Spitfire XVI and TF-51D Cavalier Mustang pilots, Bertil & Fillip Gerhard. A great weekend of flying was rounded off perfectly by a Pink Floyd tribute band.

On the Monday morning I planned a quick 106-mile hop across to Kjeller, just east of Oslo. There Jennifer would meet me, show me their museum, hangar Wagon and drive me to the station for a fast train to Gardermoen and jet home, returning in a fortnight for the Norwegian show.

Unfortunately, the weekend’s bright and breezy but occasionally showery weather had taken a turn for the worse, with a strong southerly wind, high overcast and a forecast of intermittent rain.

My route crossed a series of north-south rocky, forested ridges regularly rising to 1,800 feet, with scattered lakes, very few roads, and only one possible diversion, the regional airport of Torsby about half way, but ten miles south of track. I promptly filed my flight plan (notifying Norwegian Customs), packed and said my goodbyes, setting off westward under a gloomy 3,000-foot cloudbase, and climbing hard to contact Stockholm Information.

That fifty-minute transit was memorable. Missing my pre-booked London flight would incur considerable expense, so I set high cruise power. Scudding along at 100mph just below the leaden stratus, the ground rose inexorably below me, reducing my terrain clearance while inevitably sucking down tendrils of orographic cloud, but map-reading remained easy as I counted off the ridges and position-fixed with spot heights, lakes and occasional rivers.

After just half an hour everything changed. The scattered wisps of grey below joined into bigger clumps of strato-cumulus, and drizzle started squiggling up my canopy. Forward visibility dropped to a few kilometres and, while it still looked bright to the south, there was heavy rain off to my right and showers in the distance ahead.

This deterioration from acceptable VMC to near-IMC was shockingly rapid; just three minutes separates these photographs.

I quickly banked left down a valley, called Stockholm to say I was diverting, and started descending to keep clear of cloud. Dialling up Torsby’s frequency, I called, but got no reply. No matter, there was nowhere else to go.

Doggedly weaving around a rocky outcrop, I knew it was in the next valley, at the head of a lake. Squinting through the rain now streaming over my canopy, I spotted a slick tarmac runway on the hillside ahead and almost level with me. Squirting out a quick ‘Turning final’ and swivelling my head for traffic, I dropped the wheel, popped my spoilers, turned half-left and landed, ready to face official wrath.

But the place was deserted – a beautiful, big, apparently new regional airport, with all appropriate facilities, but completely devoid of life! I taxied right up to the terminal, hopping out to shelter under its eaves. Nordic flags flapped damply as I scanned the skies for brightness. Instead the heavens opened and torrents of icy rain lashed down. Otherwise all was silence.

As the rain subsided to a miserable drizzle, a lone figure hove into sight. This young man in floppy, knee-length boots appeared to be a fireman-cum-ground handler. We shared no common language, but he opened the terminal, indicated a free coffee machine, fired up a computer and summoned a current radar picture. I could have kissed him!

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Flying and displaying Fournier RF4Ds VH-HDO and G-AWGN, building replica RF6B G-RFGB and custodian of RF6B prototype F-BPXV

Bob Grimstead
Captain

Gender: Male
Location: Perth, Western Australia or West Sussex, England
Registered: Dec 2006
Status: Offline
Posts: 2027

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Posted Monday, April 2, 2012 @ 04:52 AM  

He then disappeared. Bored while waiting for the weather to improve, I climbed the control tower stairs to take snaps of my Fournier and the terminal’s unusual moss-covered roof below. After nearly three hours the radar’s approaching rain seemed thinner and the southern horizon appeared lighter, so I prepared to leave. The place was still deserted. Ah well, no landing fee then. It was just like my airstrip; start, taxi, line-up, take-off, all without saying a word or seeing a soul – except this was a big airport with a 1,500-metre, 5,000-foot runway!

Once aloft, the weather was barely passable, but I had a flight to catch. I called Stockholm to file an airborne Flight Plan. They weren’t pleased, but eventually accepted my staccato transmissions between conversations with my former Speedbird and Scandinavian colleagues. Finally, after 55 minutes of meteorological unpleasantness and navigational anxiety, I popped over the last saddle on to Lake Øyeren. Kjeller was at the northern head of this, so I transmitted blind and landed thankfully.

Jennifer’s friend Juul met me and helped stow RedHawk in one of KFF Museum’s hangars with an F-104 Starfighter, Bell UH-1 Huey, several missiles, some race cars and a few quads.

Then his son Jaan whisked me off to the railway just in time for my jet home.

There was a fortnight between my Scandinavian appearances, but in the intervening weekend I had a show to fly at Rougham, in eastern England. Dave Bland and his syndicate very kindly let me use their RF4D, which I have to admit is rather faster than mine (but don't tell Dave that I said so).

Returning a fortnight later, I now had time to look around KFF’s museum and their beautiful restorations, one of which was Norway’s first Tiger Moth. Its pilot, Morten took me flying in it – a delight. Then I pre-flight RedHawk for an aerobatic practice over the lake and another over the runway, before packing it for the 37 nm transit south to Rygge in formation with Morten and the other KFF aeroplanes.

Rygge/Moss is an enormous base, and I was initially awed by a heavy military presence – lots of big grey aeroplanes and dozens of keen-eyed young men in tailored flying suits. I rather stood out, a grey-haired old geezer in bright red overalls flying a 40 year-old wooden relic. How could I hold up my head among these sharp warriors?

In fact, the flying was mostly civilian. I’m well aware that my manoeuvres could be performed much better by the other aeroplanes present, but RedHawk does provide a gentle contrast to the usual brash airshow stuff. That night, another prejudice was swept away in conversation with four delightful young American F-15 jocks showing an interest in my aerobatics ‘dance card’.

Display day dawned bright and breezy with a big, colourful and cheery crowd.

There was a fifteen-knot on-crowd wind – challenging in my slow little aeroplane, but in the end it didn’t matter. Taxying out, my right wing-tip clanged to the ground, the outrigger appearing behind my wing. Broken outriggers are a common Fournier problem. Unfortunately this was not the leg, but the fitting – a much trickier issue. Sprinting to the commentary tower, I waved the leg and asked ‘Is there a welder in the crowd?’ After the applause, a Norse giant summoned Thor’s magic and repaired it, but just too late for me to participate.

So I flew twice on the Sunday, first displaying the technically demanding routine, demonstrating everything the Fournier and I can do. My second run-through was just low-level loops, barrel rolls, wing-overs and quarter-clovers, and actually went down better than the first. This is a half-flick (snap).

Afterwards I waited four hours in vain for fuel in an increasingly chilly breeze, eventually alleviated not by a bowser, but by a yummy mummy and son expressing interest in my aeroplane. Explaining all I could, I sat him in the cockpit and sent them off with some flyers and a DVD. This almost made the hypothermia worthwhile.

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Flying and displaying Fournier RF4Ds VH-HDO and G-AWGN, building replica RF6B G-RFGB and custodian of RF6B prototype F-BPXV

Bob Grimstead
Captain

Gender: Male
Location: Perth, Western Australia or West Sussex, England
Registered: Dec 2006
Status: Offline
Posts: 2027

Click here to see the profile for Bob Grimstead Visit http://www.redhawksduo.co.uk Send email to Bob Grimstead Send private message to Bob Grimstead Find more posts by Bob Grimstead Edit or delete this message Reply w/Quote
Posted Monday, April 2, 2012 @ 05:07 AM  

Next morning, despite calling for fuel as we arrived, I still waited over an hour to uplift a mere 17 litres. Duxford’s Catalina crew kindly let me refuel first, but with the southerly wind and six-and-a-half hours flying ahead, that delay could ruin my plans.

My Bell 47 friend Stig recommended Höganas as being friendly to small aeroplanes. This 192nm leg was due southwards, following the coast for easy navigation.

En-route I passed the only Fjord I saw all trip,

but spent a long time over the sea avoiding Göteborg’s airspace, not a pleasant prospect with single ignition and a motor-car engine. To distract myself, I texted performance figures to my good friend Matt Hill (RedHawk Leader) back in Britain.

Höganas was a perfect grass airfield covered in bright yellow dandelions which the friendly manager was assiduously mowing before helping me make another quick 35-minute turnaround. Matt followed me by web-cam, texting my airborne time immediately after take-off!

The next leg was 156nm with even more water, south-westwards in a near straight-line to Flensburg, following the northern coast of Zealand, crossing the Storbælt and passing Odense. Now to make my tuna salad sandwich. It’s not easy slicing tomatoes and spreading tinned tuna on crumbly bread in this cramped environment, but it saves time on the turn-arounds. I texted Matt about the white caps below, and he warned that Flensburg’s trees were swaying in the breeze on their web-cam.

On arrival the wind was blowing a steady fifteen knots, but luckily only ten degrees off the grass runway’s heading. Here I made another 35-minute turnaround before pressing on into Germany and an increasing headwind. I was fascinated to photograph Northern Germany’s huge numbers of wind turbines, often in farms of many dozens.

Half-way to Leer, I was squinting into the setting sun and enjoying the eventual serenity of clear skies, when I barely missed another bloody Motor Falke. Popping into my vision maybe 200 yards ahead on my right, he was on a direct collision course at 2,750ft over a 2,500ft control zone. On my right, he was ‘in the right’, and I should have ‘altered course to pass behind him’, but there was barely time to shove Wagon’s nose down and dive underneath. I had perhaps five seconds; banking and turning with these long wings would have taken the rest of my life.

He was so close I could clearly read his under-wing registration as he passed directly overhead, but I can recall no more than that it was German, with two Os and perhaps a D. After avoiding him, I rocked my wings in salutation, but he sailed onwards, presumably not having seen me from first to last, despite my gaudily-striped red-and-white aeroplane having been directly lit by the sun behind him. Heigh-ho, another blind motor-glider pilot. I guess he was on the radio – a foolhardy practice without an IFR clearance.

At Leer,

I securely picketed my Fournier in the lee of a long hangar and took a taxi into town to a recommended traditional family hotel. The proprietor spoke no English, and I had no German, but we quickly concluded a favourable deal. After a twenty-minute stroll, a welcome cold beer and light meal in a mid-town restaurant,

I calculated I’d covered 460 miles in 6 hours 30 that day, with a total fuel burn of 61.7 litres costing £135. This was well under ten litres per hour at over eighty mph groundspeed into a significant headwind. I was pleased.

Matthew had warned me of an active cold front tomorrow, and BBC World’s forecaster confirmed it, smilingly indicating a swathe of cloud across my intended route.

It's alright for him, he doesn't have to fly through that lot!

There was nothing for it but to get a good night’s sleep, so I didn’t set the alarm and was woken by the chambermaid at 10am to a rainy grey morning.

--------------------
Flying and displaying Fournier RF4Ds VH-HDO and G-AWGN, building replica RF6B G-RFGB and custodian of RF6B prototype F-BPXV

Bob Grimstead
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Posted Monday, April 2, 2012 @ 05:23 AM  

I untied, dried and packed my Fournier for what I hoped was the last time this trip. All morning I alternated between the airfield’s office and restaurant, sipping delicious coffee while repeatedly checking the computer’s radar weather picture. I was eventually persuaded by the AFISO that, despite the ever-advancing swathes of cloud blown by a strong wind, a long south-westerly corridor of precipitation-free air had indeed stayed clear for several hours. There was no guarantee it would continue to do so, but I was becoming impatient. Simple calculations showed that if I didn’t leave very soon, I would not make it home by nightfall. Importantly, being the Low Countries, there was no high ground to bump into or form orographic cloud. So, heart-in-mouth, I started up and set course under a low, dreary sky of scudding stratus and frequent, albeit mostly light, showers.

The first two hours were all low-level contact navigation below a ragged, grey 1,500-foot cloudbase, first approximately following the river Ems, but later diverting westward on a more direct line. This route was far from straight because of the need to avoid the many control zones and danger areas while dodging swarms of showers and lower blobs of cloud and rain, whose dull and uninviting tendrils swept the terrain ahead. With visibility around 5km, occasionally I had to drop below 1,000 feet to stay VFR. Fortunately these showers were mostly light and fairly scattered, and while there were few potential diversions in this area, the many fields were green, long and wide.

There was no time for the distraction of RT or photography. I was too busy navigating thumb-on-map between showers and zones, weaving between Germany and Holland, while continually updating my chart with scrawled crosses and times. That was two hours of hard work, and if there had been an airfield along the way I would have used it, but there wasn’t.

Eventually, the weather suddenly improved to reveal the sprawl of Arnhem, and yes, there was a bridge.

OK, it probably wasn’t the original one, but it was sufficiently similar to warrant a couple of photos – the first I had been able to take on a busy day. There was still a high overcast, but visibility was now 30km, so navigation became easier, and there was time for an SMS update to RedHawk Flight Following. Matt replied with a Wevelgem METAR – CAVOK with five knots down the runway. Excellent; all I needed to know was, after all that swerving around, did I still have enough fuel to get there?

There is no more reliable fuel gauge than the Fournier’s float-and-wire type. Its most likely fault (float leakage) gives you a fail-safe zero reading, but at any significant speed, airflow blows that wire hard against its supporting tube, so it can’t slide down. After 2hrs 20min, passing my last feasible en-route diversion of Seppe, and needing to confirm my fuel remaining before pushing on to Wevelgem, I got my gauge working by throttling back and stalling. As the nose pitched forward, the wire slipped down its tube revealing 13 litres remaining. Result! Mind, I was busting for a pee. At 3:15 and 227 straight-line miles, this was the trip’s longest leg, but still only burned 28.8 litres.

This is a classic Dutch (or was it Belgian?) town I saw along the way. As you can see, typically after a cold front, the weather cleared right up.

And here's a French one

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Flying and displaying Fournier RF4Ds VH-HDO and G-AWGN, building replica RF6B G-RFGB and custodian of RF6B prototype F-BPXV

Bob Grimstead
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Posted Monday, April 2, 2012 @ 05:29 AM  

I was airborne again within thirty minutes and heading for that prominent French wind farm just inland from Cap Griz Nez.

As I approached the Channel coast, Matt texted that Lydd was clear, but with a wind of 210/15. It may be the world’s busiest seaway, but that evening there was barely a ship in sight.

This time I crossed at 3,000 feet, feeling much more confident in my trusty motor.

See, no ships!

Lydd’s £13.80p landing fee cost more than all my other landings added together, and I anticipated it would be a hateful destination reading Pooley’s ‘Non-radio aircraft prohibited. Microlights PPR. High visibility clothing mandatory.’ I’m clad in bright red from head to toe, so they can stuff their yellow waistcoats!

In fact Lydd turned out delightful, then and several times subsequently, despite its expense. Now all I had to do was get home before sunset. That last one-hour leg turned out the best of the lot. The weather was idyllic, the air was still and my sprits were high. Brief airborne salutations, first over Matt’s Sussex home and then ours rounded off the adventure perfectly.

The whole trip covered 2,073 nautical miles in 29:25. Total fuel used was 257.7lit, giving more than 8nm per litre, 8.76lph or 45.8mpg at an average groundspeed of 81mph despite continual headwinds! I don’t think many aeroplanes could beat that.

I felt pleased to have flown it all solo and by eye, without any modern electronics, in my snug but lovely forty year-old Fournier. All navigation was by simple map-reading, and I am pleased to say, always within a couple of miles of intended track.

If they invite me back, I will happily do it all again. I still have the charts.

Yours, Bob

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Flying and displaying Fournier RF4Ds VH-HDO and G-AWGN, building replica RF6B G-RFGB and custodian of RF6B prototype F-BPXV

Jorgen
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Posted Monday, April 2, 2012 @ 04:58 PM  

Bob,
Absolutely fantastic tale, thank you so much for sharing it. It was great for me to read it since I've done the same trip myself. I can certainly sympathise too with the anxious checking of wx before take-off, even though it is much more simple nowadays with computers and precipitation radars, but the question is still whether there will be VFR wx along the route. I remember the significant sense of achievement myself when I got home. Great stuff!

May the 4's be with you/ Jörgen

PS. Sofi's comment: "Uncle Bob drinks raspberry juice?"

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Posted Tuesday, April 3, 2012 @ 07:39 PM    YIM

What a wonderful tale Bob, thank you so much for sharing it here. We CFI members are honored to be the recipient of your hard work and generosity. As I have said a thousand times before, those who have only seen the world from an airliner or from the ground have quite simply never seen the world at all.

What is it with "the authorities" and ELTs? Here in the USA we are required to carry an ELT in aircraft with two seats or more, or that ventures more than 50 NM from its point of departure. It is the norm, and perfectly legal, however, to use the obsolete 121.5 MHz variety, that the "other authorities" say they no longer monitor or support. At least we have escaped the mode S nonsense so far.

Happily, the regulations here are for the most part phrased to include "....aircraft originally certified with an engine driven electrical system.." so Fourniers and Bückers are OK for now.

Just to rub the Fed's noses in it, I now carry a 1934 Texaco road map with me (the same year the Bücker was born) and present it when asked to demonstrate that I have a current chart on board.

Steve

Bob Grimstead
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Posted Tuesday, April 3, 2012 @ 10:11 PM  

Thanks very much Guys,

For me it really was an adventure, so I just had to write it up, whether or not any magazine wanted to publish the story (and it seems they don't).

And it is very rare that I wish I was on the ground rather than flying, but I have to say that, on the leg between Jala-Jarna and Kjeller, when I diverted to Torsby, I was very scared indeed. I really thought I'd stuffed up big time and was probably gonna die. Then that airport appeared right where I thought it should be. You've never seen anybody hurl a Fournier at the ground as quickly as I did that day!

This ELT/PLB/transponder nonsense has got beyond a joke in parts of Europe. Radio freqencies too.

The whole continent is supposed to be 'harmonised' -- ie every nation having the same aviation laws, like the U.S. states. But right now Fourniers can be flown everywhere except Holland (the Netherlands) where, without a transponder they have to stay below 1,200 feet. That's kinda OK, but the Dutch authorities also insist on a fixed ELT, and won't accept a PLB (Matt & I have one each) so as things currently stand, we can't do the display we've been booked for in Texel!

Worse, these guys, who we helped out so much seventy years ago, will now impound any foreign aeroplane that does not comply with their impractical regulations.
What a sad state of affairs European aviation legislation has become.

On a more positive note, I love your old road map Steve! I really wish I could get hold of a pre 1967 Southern British aviation topographical chart, before Military Aerodrome Traffic Zones were invented. The topography hasn't changed one bit, but the airspace was so much less cluttered then.

And yes Jorgen, you should tell Sofi that over the years I have drunk far too much raspberry juice and barley juice, and they have ruined my digestion, which is why I have to carry that special bread with me everywhere. Let this be a salutary lesson to all you youngsters out there!

Cheers, 'bottoms up', Bob

--------------------
Flying and displaying Fournier RF4Ds VH-HDO and G-AWGN, building replica RF6B G-RFGB and custodian of RF6B prototype F-BPXV

Donald
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Posted Wednesday, April 4, 2012 @ 03:26 PM  

Excellent trip Bob and a great write up and photographs.

Jorgen's forced landing advice brought back memories. Many years ago when working in London a colleague who was a glider pilot told me the same thing about not landing into trees, particularly conifers, that they'd shed you downwards, close over you and you'd never be found. He had received the recommendation whilst on a gliding holiday in Sweden and since we have in Scotland fairly extensive conifer plantations I wrote it up at the time for our newsletter. We no longer have bears and wolves but we could still die undiscovered.

The bit about ditching also reminded me of another account of a friend who did floatplane training in the US north west. His instructor had him make a forced landing on to a river then metaphorically beat him over the head with the paddle for being so damn fool as to land way out in the middle instead of near the shore line.

Marten A
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Posted Saturday, October 27, 2018 @ 03:49 PM  

Thanks Bob! I really enjoyed reading this. I can’t believe no magazines wanted to publish this. It is far better and entertaining than so many other trip reports that I have read.

--------------------
Marten
SE-UJC (formerly G-AWBJ) #4055

Bob Grimstead
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Posted Tuesday, September 29, 2020 @ 11:15 PM  

Hiya Folks,

I'm very pleased to say that Pilot magazine in England eventually published my article.
You can read it here: https://www.pilotweb.aero/features/flying-adventure-to-norway-by-volkswagen-1-3340199

And see the illustrations, which have been removed from this forum by Photobucket.

Do please let us fellow Fournicators know about any long journeys you undertake in your Fourniers.

--------------------
Flying and displaying Fournier RF4Ds VH-HDO and G-AWGN, building replica RF6B G-RFGB and custodian of RF6B prototype F-BPXV

SteveBeaver
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Posted Wednesday, September 30, 2020 @ 01:26 PM    YIM

Looks great Bob. Thank you for sharing the article!
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