I couldn't have picked better weather for my first flight. As ever there was a headwind but at ground level there was very little breeze. This worried me just a bit as I couldn't recall how long the Sluka took to unstick. Anyway, I'd put on some weight since my last flight in a Sluka 10 years before and I had a computer and other solid odds and sods with me. Having run through my checks I gave Ken a wave of thanks, opened the throttle - and hoped that I didn't end up off the runway and into the ploughed field beyond. In fact, the takeoff was perfect. Just as I remembered, the Sluka barely rotated but simply went up like a lift, well within the 100 yards, pretty much as square to the ground in the air as it had been on the runway.
The visibility wasn't particularly good after a few days of high pressure and I was flying into the sun, but it was good enough. I overflew Ken's runway to say goodbye (he told me he'd be ploughing it up now) and turned south for Croft.
I flew the journey back like a competition task, without GPS and trying to stay within 250 metres of my planned route all the way, except where I deliberately cut the odd corner at a turnpoint. Pretty soon the ten year gap had disappeared and it was as though I'd never left the cockpit of a Sluka.
Also pretty soon I realised that to stay straight and level at 5o knots required 5,000 rpm, partly because of my weight and partly because of the bits and pices I was carrying. It's almost impossible to overload a Sluka as there simply isn't the space, but it doesn't take much extra weight to need a couple of hundred extra revs and extra revs mean extra fuel burn. I'd planned on a two hour flight which with 34 litres of fuel should have been no problem. However, at 2,000 ft the headwind was some 12 knots and at 5,000 rpm the fuel burn would be greater.
I had no radio so refueling at Leicester was out. I decided to make Swinford my intermediate stop if I needed fuel. One problem with the Sluka is that the fuel sight tube, which runs down the side of the seat, disappears into the fibreglass pod at the time when you most need to see it. I didn't do much fooling around on the way down, just a few turns and stalls to get a feel for the handling again - which was absolutely fine. As I passed east abeam Leicester heading south the fuel in the tube was bobbing up and down around the minimum and I knew that my first landing would be at Swinford.
Swinford is a nice grass airfield, reasonably easy to find at the east end of a finger of woods running from the M1 motorway. There are several farms to avoid as well as the village and the strip is strictly PPR but I'd flown in many times and knew the circuit (http://lmac.org.uk/swinford/swinford.htm). The landing on 13 was smooth and simple. The complicated bit came after I stopped and found that there was no one about and no reception on my mobile phone. I ended up walking into the village to find a phone. What a marvellous walk it was, late afternoon on an exceptional late summer day with the Leicestershire countryside at its best. From the call box in Swinford (which didn't take coins so I made my first reverse charge call in several decades!) I phoned Shirley and asked her to bring a can and a funnel. She never murmured a word of reproach and was there within 30 minutes!
By the time we had found the garage and returned with the fuel there were a few people about organising the mowing and pulling aircraft out of the hangar to fly. Shirley headed off to meet me at Preston Capes and I had a chat before taking off and flying the last 30 minute leg home. As I passed east abeam Daventry I could see Fawsley lakes and, a few miles beyond, the trees I used as markers for base leg on the uphill runway. I pointed the nose at them, eased off the throttle and sat back to let the Sluka find its own way home. With my arms folded the little aeroplane flew itself, descending slowly, wings straight and level and never the slightest twitch; I knew that I'd made the right decision when I bought it!
Our arrival at Preston Capes was quiet and uneventful and farmer, friend and landlord of the strip, Geoffrey Arblaster, who misses very little, had no idea I had landed. With no wind I hooked the stick in the lapstrap to lock the controls and left the Sluka there for the night. Tomorrow I'd reorganise the hangar to take it.
The visibility wasn't particularly good after a few days of high pressure and I was flying into the sun, but it was good enough. I overflew Ken's runway to say goodbye (he told me he'd be ploughing it up now) and turned south for Croft.
I flew the journey back like a competition task, without GPS and trying to stay within 250 metres of my planned route all the way, except where I deliberately cut the odd corner at a turnpoint. Pretty soon the ten year gap had disappeared and it was as though I'd never left the cockpit of a Sluka.
Also pretty soon I realised that to stay straight and level at 5o knots required 5,000 rpm, partly because of my weight and partly because of the bits and pices I was carrying. It's almost impossible to overload a Sluka as there simply isn't the space, but it doesn't take much extra weight to need a couple of hundred extra revs and extra revs mean extra fuel burn. I'd planned on a two hour flight which with 34 litres of fuel should have been no problem. However, at 2,000 ft the headwind was some 12 knots and at 5,000 rpm the fuel burn would be greater.
I had no radio so refueling at Leicester was out. I decided to make Swinford my intermediate stop if I needed fuel. One problem with the Sluka is that the fuel sight tube, which runs down the side of the seat, disappears into the fibreglass pod at the time when you most need to see it. I didn't do much fooling around on the way down, just a few turns and stalls to get a feel for the handling again - which was absolutely fine. As I passed east abeam Leicester heading south the fuel in the tube was bobbing up and down around the minimum and I knew that my first landing would be at Swinford.
Swinford is a nice grass airfield, reasonably easy to find at the east end of a finger of woods running from the M1 motorway. There are several farms to avoid as well as the village and the strip is strictly PPR but I'd flown in many times and knew the circuit (http://lmac.org.uk/swinford/swinford.htm). The landing on 13 was smooth and simple. The complicated bit came after I stopped and found that there was no one about and no reception on my mobile phone. I ended up walking into the village to find a phone. What a marvellous walk it was, late afternoon on an exceptional late summer day with the Leicestershire countryside at its best. From the call box in Swinford (which didn't take coins so I made my first reverse charge call in several decades!) I phoned Shirley and asked her to bring a can and a funnel. She never murmured a word of reproach and was there within 30 minutes!
By the time we had found the garage and returned with the fuel there were a few people about organising the mowing and pulling aircraft out of the hangar to fly. Shirley headed off to meet me at Preston Capes and I had a chat before taking off and flying the last 30 minute leg home. As I passed east abeam Daventry I could see Fawsley lakes and, a few miles beyond, the trees I used as markers for base leg on the uphill runway. I pointed the nose at them, eased off the throttle and sat back to let the Sluka find its own way home. With my arms folded the little aeroplane flew itself, descending slowly, wings straight and level and never the slightest twitch; I knew that I'd made the right decision when I bought it!
Our arrival at Preston Capes was quiet and uneventful and farmer, friend and landlord of the strip, Geoffrey Arblaster, who misses very little, had no idea I had landed. With no wind I hooked the stick in the lapstrap to lock the controls and left the Sluka there for the night. Tomorrow I'd reorganise the hangar to take it.
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