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My first Microlight flight
It seemed like forever, waiting for Barry and Bob to return from their sky bound adventure. I strolled around the van and the edge of the field wondering if something bad had happened to them. All sorts of things passed through my mind: has the engine stopped or the wing collapsed and fallen to the ground? I was cold and damp and the longer I waited the more I began to worry about them.
Then a very faint humming sound, quickly got louder. It picked up my spirit. It had to be them, didn’t it? Yes, I was sure it was. Apart from the man in the muddy, Bob the builder outfit, no one else was here.
I decided to take a closer look at his bright yellow aircraft. Two wheels at the back with yellow spats over the top to keep the mud from flying up all over the place. Three Silver tubular arms stretched out from each one, on either side of the aircraft. The first went up to just below the engine, and another ran out to the bottom of a black skirt and plastic petrol tank. The third was at the bottom also, but it ran forward under the front seat, just before the start of the yellow fibreglass pod.
I looked it over inquisitively, but dared not touch. It wasn’t that I was scared of the man coming out of the pub and catching me, but what if I touched something and then he had a crash? I didn’t want to live with those kinds of doubts. However I was intrigued by the whole thing.
The black seats stepped up so the passenger could see over the pilot’s shoulder. I stared down past the pilot seat into the pod. A thick pole ran down the centre between where the pilot puts his legs and deep down in the dark spaces I saw a foot throttle and a foot brake. Along the front of the pod facing where the pilot sat was a little clear plastic screen and a small control panel with a half ball shaped compass, and a few other instruments, but I didn’t know what they were.
In the middle of the dashboard, a thin tubular pole came out and went right up, connecting to a thicker pole, near the underside of the wing. Behind where the passenger would sit, was another part of that thick tubular pole, which went up into the air for about eight feet? That’s where the wing attached to the pod. One bolt! I must be mad.
The wing looked enormous towering above my head. On one side its tip touched the grass and the other tip pointed up into the air. It was triangular shaped, mainly white, with a yellow leading edge. Black wires came out of it to the ends of a thin tubular triangle. Barry had called this the control frame, but I was yet to see what it did at close range?
Suddenly from out of the mist came Barry and Bob, sailing gracefully toward the field in front of me. Within seconds of sighting them, the little aircraft touched down then I heard the engines revs increase and she taxied over to where I stood beside the little yellow Microlight. He switched off the engine.
Barry eased the control frame to the side and his wing gently rotated to the side until the tip lay on the grass also. He reached down into the pod and came up with a tie, wrapping it around the front strut and the control frame; this held the wing still.
On seeing them I felt relieved. Relieved they were safe, but also envious because Bob had been up flying around the sky and I hadn’t. I had my doubts that I would even get a chance to fly, with Barry being gone for so long, and the visibility still very poor, he might not want to go back up.
Barry slipped off his helmet, placed it on the ground and climbed out.
I ran over to him. “So what was it like?”
“It’s smooth enough, but the viz isn’t too good.” He turned around helping Bob out of the aircraft. “Don’t forget feet on the metal only.”
“Yep, I’m fine,” Bob told him.
“Enjoy that Bob?” asked Barry.
“Yeah, really good,” he said, putting his hand out shaking Barry’s. “Thanks very much for that.”
Barry turned to me. “I’ll just have a quick brew then I’ll take you up for a few minutes, once around the field.”
I don’t want a few minutes. I want the same as Bob. Oh well, at least I’m having a go. We walked back over to the van. Bob took the suit off and I slipped it on. It was far too big for me, but I didn’t care, it was warm and I was going flying. The thoughts of it made my heart race. I did sense some apprehension, but it was overwhelmed by my strong desire to go aloft.
Barry warmed his hands around a flask cup. “Do yer wanna taste?” He offered Bob the cup, but Bob shook his head then he offered it to me and I refused also. I didn’t fancy drinking out of the same cup as someone I hardly knew. “Right, well, let’s go then,” he said, swigging back the last drops and screwing it back onto his flask.
The words made me feel jittery as we walked across the grass, back to the little machine. This is it, we’re going for it.
“Foot on that metal,” he pointed, “then push back into the seat.”
The pod rocked under my weight then I turned around into the seat and Barry fastened the seat belt around my waist.
“Yeah, that’s good. Now put this on,” he said, handing me the helmet. It was hard and heavy with a flip down visor, just like a motorbike helmet. It was white with soft black fabric which squashed against my cheeks and I instantly felt warmer.
For a moment all the sounds around me were muffled then Barry put his helmet on and I noticed a coil wire joining us together. I could hear his breathing as he climbed in front of me.
“How’s that, can you hear me alright?” He pushed back, forcing my back against the thick pole. His arms were busy fastening his seat belt around his waist then I knew he was done as his body eased back into his chair.
“Yep, I can hear you just fine.”
“Good, me too,” he replied.
It was very tight in my seat, but I liked that, it made me feel safe. At least I wasn’t going to fall out. I watched with great interest as Barry untied the control frame from the front strut and it swung forward in his hands. “Here put these on,” he said, reaching down, passing me a pair of gloves, which had been tucked away in a side pocket.
I put them on and sensed Barry was doing the same. He looked around towards the back from both sides then shouted, “CLEAR PROP!” Reaching inside the pod, he came up with a handle. “I’m going to push back against you, a bit, when I pull this cord.”
“Okay,” I replied. I wasn’t bothered, we were going flying.
“Ignition on, full choke, get ready,” he said, yanking with all his might on the cord.
I felt the engine shudder and the sound of wind from the rotating prop filled my ears then it spluttered and stopped.
“Bugger!” said Barry, reaching under his seat. “I’ll try less choke.”
It didn’t mean anything to me. I just wanted to get going.
“Ready?”
“Yep,” I felt him crushing me again, as he pulled back the cord, vicious, and determined.
Everything vibrated. As before, the wind whistled from the prop, then there was a snap, and crack, and a zooming noise, like a very large and powerful Hoover.
Barry immediately reached under his seat. “Choke off,” he said, revving the engine. I sensed his relief; mine too, for a minute, I thought the flying was off. He pulled the control frame straight, across his chest and the wing lifted from the ground and became horizontal above our heads. He moved it to the right, and the left wing dropped then to the left, and the right wing dropped. I was starting to understand how much this was like hang gliding.
I stared out to my right side. Bob was standing about twenty feet away, smiling. It was one of those smiles, where it could be he was happy for me, or he was smiling because he knew what I was in for, and boy was I going to get it. I wasn’t sure, but then he started to wave, as the revs increased and Barry and I set off toward the other end of the field.
I waved, well there’s no going back now. I didn’t want too. It was a great feeling, stepping out into the unknown. The adrenaline was just a natural, impulse response, because from the day people are born they are afraid of two things: falling and loud noises. It’s a known fact. It was the flight or fight drug, telling me to get away from here, as fast as I could. The trouble was, my mind was telling me different, and I quite liked adrenaline.
“We’ll taxi over to that end of the field. Not much wind,” he said, pointing at the big orange sock, which was barely moving and dangling from the top of a twenty foot pole on the edge of the field. “But it’ll give the engine some time to warm up again.”
Unlike a car, there was no suspension, so my body shook with every bobble and bump in the grass, even the steering was done by Barry’s feet, like my wooden box, go-cart, when I was little. Nevertheless, I knew, buying a Mainair Flash was quite an expense, top of the range, I shouldn’t wonder, in the Microlight world, and I felt grateful and honoured by the opportunity to be here.
Barry’s legs moved, just before we reached the trees, and the little Microlight turned one hundred and eighty degrees, facing toward Bob, the cars, and the pub. The people from the other Microlight had come out and stood next to Barry’s friend. All three of them looked grey and very small in the distance.
“I’ll just do a few checks and then we’ll be off.”
I didn’t say anything, because Barry needed to be very focused, now. I listened with interest and stared around, as he pointed out the different things he was checking.
“Full and free movement of the control frame,” he said, pulling it in, pushing out, and moving it from side to side. “Nose catch in and secure, front strut bolts in and secure, control frame corner bolt, in and secure, Hang bolt in and secure, sail batons all in place and secure.” My eyes stared out along the back edge of the wing on both sides. “Plenty of fuel,” then his tone changed and I knew he was talking to me. “Seat belt fastened, helmet neck strap fastened?”
I checked them quickly. “Yes, fastened,” I replied.
“Right, I’m just going to run the engine for thirty seconds to make sure it’s smooth and up to temperature then we’ll be off.”
I didn’t speak. I think Barry was talking to himself again. The engine noise increased and I felt the power trying to push the Microlight forward. After thirty seconds the revs dropped and Barry said, “Are you ready?”
The excitement and the not knowing what was about to happen at any second was exhilarating. “Yes, I’m ready.” I placed my hands on Barry’s shoulders and stared straight down the field. All kinds of thoughts rushed through my mind. I hope we don’t crash. I hope we clear that pub. I hope we don’t separate from the wing and fall to the ground.
The engine screamed louder than I had ever heard it before, pushing us forward. We immediately rolled, galloping then tear arsing down the field towards the cars. The seat jostled me up and down, up and down then suddenly everything went silky smooth, as we whooshed up into the air.
Very quickly the ground below us faded into the fine broken mist then we climbed above it into clear blue skies. It was beautiful, like being on a small boat, swaying slightly on a calm sea.
“Are you okay,” Barry asked.
“Yes, it’s absolutely fantastic.”
Then Barry pulled the bar to the left, the right wing went down, and we sailed around to the right like a beautiful giant Hawk, circling above the ground. This is as close to being a bird, as you could ever get without feathers.
Below us, tops of trees, green fields and fences, gently passed by, hazy in the mist. I loved every minute, especially when we turned and I was lifted out to the side. It was like being on a merry-go ride. But this was no fairground attraction, Barry had complete control of where we went, and how high or low he wanted us to go, in a word, freedom.
Water started to run, in trickles, along the visor, but it wasn’t raining. I lifted it up and immediately felt the cold dampness upon my face. The biting, fifty mile an hour wind, made my eyes water salty tears, but I loved it. It was a good ride, and I was grateful to Barry for not simply going once around the field and landing, as he had said.
Never before had I seen England from this perspective. At one thousand five hundred feet, the earth below was drizzled in cotton wool. In parts it was like looking through stained glass windows, and in others, you could clearly see the green fields with their farm houses, and fences. I pulled my visor down.
After about half an hour, I was beginning to feel the biting air and I wondered, what had changed Barry’s mind. I guess he loves it so much, he just wants to stay aloft for as long as possible, and who could blame him, it was like a vision from the gods.
Then out of the blue, he said, “I think I’m going to have to land in that field over there.” He was pointing towards the ground and a large green field next to a farmhouse.
Look how misty it is.
“Why’s that?” I asked, flighty, wondering if he was pulling my leg.
“Because I’m lost, and I need to ask for directions.”
I felt a lump hammer drop in my stomach. Lost, what does he mean, lost, he can’t be; he’s a pilot? The engine went much quieter and immediately the little Microlight began to descend, skirting the mist.
Now I was sure he wasn’t joking, and my concern, turned to serious anxiety. We were about to go into a field Barry didn’t know and if the mist blew across, he wouldn’t be able to see either. I didn’t say anything, if ever this old pilot needed to concentrate, it was now.
I stared over his shoulder at the altimeter, two hundred feet. I felt I could almost touch the trees and they moved quickly past. Over the field we went, along the side of the farmhouse. Big, yellow-ore, stone blocks, with black small pane windows, and a slate tile roof had smoke bellowing from its chimney. A good indication someone was at home.
Near the door, a farmer stared up, chuffing on his pipe, and a black and white dog, sat next to his feet.
I thought Barry was going to fly into the field, but he didn’t, he flew over it then banked left, holding at two hundred. He came around, now losing height all the time on his approach, less than one hundred feet, boy we went down quickly.
Skimming the tree top, Barry pulled the bar in to his chest. It felt as if, I was on the top of a rollercoaster, as it starts its terrifying descent.
The ground was coming toward us at an incredible pace. Should we be travelling so fast? How’s he going to stop? Oh, my god, Barry’s driving us into it.
I wanted to close my eyes, if this was the end, I didn’t want to see? But I could not; I had to look. Never before had I felt so excited, my skin shivered with it, what an adventure.
At the last second Barry pushed the control bar forward, and the aircraft levelled off and slowed down rapidly. Bump and bounce! We’re on the grass, wheels spinning, tear-arsing along at forty miles an hour, and the trees, and hedges on the far side of the field, were sprinting toward us at a tremendous speed.
Barry leaned back, pressing hard against my chest, his foot pushing with all his might on the brake. The stone wall was almost upon us. We’re not going to stop in time. We’re going to crash. For a few moments I was sure we weren’t going to walk away from this then I sensed the aircraft slowing. But would it stop in time?
Trees, tall and broad, hung over the wall with crooked brown claws, ready to rip the fabric from our wing, and my thought turned to worrying the aircraft would be so badly damaged in the collision; I wouldn’t be able to get home.
A foot from the wall, inches from the trees branches, the little red Microlight slowed to a stop.
A mixture of emotion flowed through my body, but mainly relief. I sensed Barry felt it too, with his deep sigh and slumping shoulders, then anger that he would land us in such a tiny little field, just so he was close to the house.
“Are you okay, Mike?”
I think that was the first time he had used my name. Maybe it was an ordeal for him also. When people go through trauma together, it sort of connects them, I think. Well, it was a start.
“Yes, I’m fine, and we’re on the ground.”
“Got to get out of here, though, this field’s smaller than I thought and those trees are much taller.”
“What? You don’t think we can get out of here?” I was right to worry. How the hell are going to get home. Miles from the car and no way of letting Bob know we’re in trouble...
The farmer and his dog strolled from the front of the house, opened a metal gate and entered the field.
Barry unhooked the map board from around his knees and climbed out onto the grass. After placing his helmet on the ground, he walked over to the farmer.
I heard them discussing and pointing at the map in muffled tones. I hope he knows which way to go. Barry must think we can get out of here, otherwise he wouldn’t be talking about directions on a map.
After a few minutes Barry and the farmer shook hands and he strolled back over to me. “Right, we’re okay, now. We’re really quite close, just missed it that’s all.”
I wasn’t completely confident we wouldn’t keep missing it all day, and run out of petrol. The farmer walked back to the other side of the gate then turned and leaned against it, waiting to watch us go, his obedient dog still by his side.
Barry strapped in, fired up the engine, which started first time and taxied over into the corner of the field by the farmhouse wall. “It’s gonna be tight. Are you ready?”
As I would ever be; it was either this or a long walk home. “Yes, I’m ready.”
“Helmet neck strap fastened, seat belt fastened?”
“Yep,” I replied, anxious to get it over with.
“Here we go then...” Full throttle on, Barry’s foot pressed to the floor, and the little Microlight screamed across the grass.
Come on, come on; get into the air. We were passed the point of no return that was for sure. If Barry was to stop now, we would definitely crash into the solid stone wall at high speed.
Suddenly she zoomed up into the air, with the trees on both sides, and in front towering above us. We’re not going to make it!
Barry was giving it full power, bar out, climbing and banking over hard. Still very close to the ground, he was trying desperately to avoid hitting the trees. If he was to keep going straight, we would certainly crash into them and be dead. But we continued to climb, circling around and the tops of the trees, whipped beneath us, by a fraction. We were free and climbing away rapidly.
One hundred, two hundred, three, four, five, I stared back watching the farmer become nothing more than a pin prick on the ground. “Well done, Barry, we’ve made it,” I said, patting him on the shoulder.
The mist had almost disappeared by the time he pointed out our field at Burscough. My fingers were tingling with cold, but I felt so happy and grateful for what had happened. It was more than a Microlight ride, it was a real adventure.
If you re enjoying this story please leave a comment. Also you might want to read one of my other books; Sam and The Sea Witch or Sam and the Beast of Bodmin Moor, available from amazon.
Sam and The Sea Witch (copy and paste link into the search bar)
http://www.amazon.com/Sam-The-Witch-M-P-Ward/dp/1771273976/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1398201334&sr=8-1&keywords=sam+and+the+sea+witch
Sam and the Beast of Bodmin Moor
http://www.amazon.com/Sam-Beast-Bodmin-Moor-Witch-ebook/dp/B00HWKVIPW/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1398200221&sr=8-1&keywords=sam+and+the+beast+of+bodmin+moor