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Aviation History
1913
1913 - 0698.PDF
" Flight" Copyright A Hanriot monoplane arriving at Hendon from Brooklands to take part in a competition while one of its future com' petltors—a Bleriot—is in the air. JULY 5, 1913. TH£ LEISURED AVIATOR. By SYDNEY PICKLES. As I ruminate over the doings of the past fortnight or so, I am certainly forced to the conclusion that flying nowadays is busy work. At any rate the period in question has been busy enough for me, and certainly not without interest withal. A few Saturdays ago, on June 14th to be precise, I flew for my superior certificate. This involved a preliminary test at Hendon, after which I left for Brighton about noon. Steering for Brooklands, I soon came over the aerodrome, and there made a glide from 2,000 feet to within 20 feet of the track, round which I flew one circuit and thereupon re-ascended for a continuation of the journey to Brighton via Leatherhead. At one period of the flight I entered a thick bank of fog and came down to about 800 feet, where I found the air currents exceed ingly strong and difficult, and, familiar as I am with my trusty Caudron, the going at this part of the journey was far from simple. Beyond the hills, however, the fog disappeared, and I was able to get up to 2,000 ft. again. Somehow or other I must have mistaken the railway track, for I came down at Littlehampton by mistake, and so had to re-ascend and fly along the coast to Shoreham, where I met with a very hospitable reception and an excellent lunch. After lunch I flew down to Brighton, and appeared to amuse the holiday crowd considerably by a little low flying between the piers. I did not stop at Brighton tor any length of time, however, but started almost immediately for Hendon. The return flight was in the teeth of a head wind, but although slow by comparison with the outward journey, it was entirely uneventful, except that just as I got over the theds I found that I had run short of lubricating oil, and therefore had to make a somewhat hurried descent. Having filled up, and still feeling very fresh, I thought it would be a good idea to fly in the second heat of the speed handicap that was just about to start. This event I won, but in the final Brock beat me. However, I had no reason to be dissatisfied with the day's doings. On the following Tuesday I went down to the Isle of Grain, to put a new Caudron through its tests for the Admiralty. It was the first time I had ever flown a waterplane of any description, but I found no particular difficulty about it, and was confident enough to take up one of the officers as a passenger and subse quently to give my mother her first flight, which she enjoyed immensely. She thus has, I believe, the distinction of being the first Australian lady to fly in a waterplane. On Saturday, the 21st, I went up to Dundee to give a flight in my Bleriot, and altogether had rather a poor time. The ground was small and rough, as are so many of these temporary aerodromes over which one is invited to disport oneself in flight. The wind was strong, and there were many obstacles. In themselves these things are not necessari y serious. It is only when one's engine gives trouble that they assume alarming proportions, and as bad luck would have it my engine must needs give trouble on this particular occasion. The point at which it chose to fail was whilst I was flyi ng in a bee-line towards a chimney, which ordinarily I should have cleared with any amount of room to spare. Instead, the machine sank, struck the chimney, and fell—with me inside it—from a height of 30 ft. Feeling the machine falling, I let go the control and gripped the seat firmly to avoid being thrown out. The machine turned over on its side, and assumed what in a " stunt " flight would be called a vertical bank. On this occasion there was no other word for it except disaster, and I must admit I thought my chances seemed exceedingly small. The crash came, and I picked myself up undamaged. Not only was I uninjured, but I was free from so much as a scratch. The machine, needless to say, was fairly much of a wreck. Having seen the remains of it packed up I took the night train to London, for I had an appointment in France at Crotoy on the Monday, and must needs travel on Sunday to get there. Accordingly, I caught the 9 o'clock boat train from town, where I had made another appointment to meet a friend who was coming over with me in order to fly back as a passenger on a new Caudron of which I was taking delivery. My friend turned up with the news that he was unable to come, which disappointed me considerably, as I disliked the idea of a solitary journey to France followed by a solo flight back again. My friend was accompanied by a companion, to whom, in no very hopeful spirit, I transferred the invitation at precisely four minutes prior to the time the train was due to start. He had never so much as been in an aeroplane in his life, but he was a sportsman all right; and having thought about it once and-a-quarter times, he rushed off to the ticket-office, and returned just in time comfortably to take his seat in the train with me as we steamed out of the station. When we got to Crotoy on Monday morning, the new Caudron 724
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