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Aviation History
1936
1936 - 1345.PDF
550 FLIGHT. MAY 21, 1936. Private Flying HTBT Topics of the Day Cruising Altitude O NE very simple little point, I find, sometimes upsets the novice who is making his early cross-country flights. Filled with a commendable caution, he flies too high, with the idea that he will obtain a good view of landmarks in general and will stand a better chance of pulling off a forced landing. In actual fact he will do neither. When flying at three thousand or so in anything but pluperfect visibility the landmarks will be vague and formless, and he will not obtain a very accurate notion of the distance which he is off-course when a check is made. A multitude of different railway lines and roads will always be worrying unless the pilot is sufficiently low to be able to pick up firm and obvious differences in their characteristics. So far as forced landings are concerned there are two good reasons why the high flyer is much worse off than the pilot who stays at a medium altitude. It is quite impos sible for him to see at once whether a field is reasonably practicable, even if the considerable height does allow him a much more varied choice, and high flying always upsets approach judgment to a very marked degree. Try a straightforward approach to a familiar aerodrome from 3,000 feet and I'll guarantee that your last turn will be made too high or too near the boundary—and it is surprisingly difficult to get rid of height at the last minute without resorting to low turns and excessively steep side slips, from which one usually emerges with too much speed for comfort in entering small fields. Suiting the Circumstances G ENERALLY speaking, the best cross-country height lies somewhere between 1,000 and 1,500 feet, accord ing to the type of terrain over which one is flying and to the prevailing visibility. Needless to say, one must necessarily fly high over heavily wooded country or over water for the simple reason that it might otherwise be impossible to reach an open space or a ship in case of trouble. I shall not forget the pleasure and absolute terror that I felt as a passenger during a race in which my pilot flew at an altitude of inches over Saver- nake Forest, descending as the trees fell away and climbing as they climbed or giew taller. We were flying at full throttle and there was not a hope of doing more than perch on the topmost branches if the engine had cut. Over rolling grassland, or, tor instance, parts of Salisbury Plain, it is perfectly safe and very pleasant to fly at six cr seven hundred feet—above ground level and not on the altimeter. It is advisable, however, even in these days of reliable engines, to retain a knowledge of the direction of the wind clearly in one's mind. I usually think of the direc tion in which I have to turn in order to get into wind, since there is very little time to consider the matter on the spur of the moment. Before leaving the aerodrome, in any case. I habitually note the position of the compass needle after turning into wind, so that, if the worst comes to the worst, I have at least got an approximate idea of this direction. I was taught—rightly, I consider—to turn into wind as an absolute and unvarying preliminary to any field examina tion during forced-landing practice. All the possible fields could then be quickly scanned on a basis of their immediate value and not on that of their all-round value as landing grounds. Seeing the World N O flying is quite so pleasant, exciting and interesting as that carried out at a fairly low altitude. Not only does one obtain some reasonable impression of speed and, consequently, of " going places,'' but one also has a chance of a surprisingly thorough investigation of earthly matters. During a recent trip carried out, perforce, at a low alti tude, I saw a private landing ground complete with wind- sock and camouflaged aeroplane, which I certainly hadn't noticed on previous passages over the same area; one inter esting Roman encampment; two minor motor accidents— one of which was almost in the very act of taking place; and a host of entertaining country estates. So far as the people on the ground are concerned, an aeroplane, however noisy, which appears and disappears more or less over the tree tops is more interesting and far less irritating than one which drones quietly and appar ently interminably as it crosses five miles or more of cloud less sky; too high to be seen properly and too low to be unheard and unobserved. For Idle Roaming INCIDENTALLY', something pusher, on Drcne but drone-less lines, would be an extremely pleasant vehicle for aerial meandering, which might be such a pleasant pastime if there were no twin bogies of possible forced landings and actual engine noise. Hence my jealousy of the sail- planing fraternity, though I am lazy enough to want to do it from a nearby aerodrome and to do it when I want to, and not when the wind is blowing in the right direction. I can think of nothing pleasanter than drifting quietly, at two hundred feet, over Ihe English countryside on a hot summer's day, and I am irresistibly reminded of a para graph in that excellent, though somewhat naive, book by Capt. Macmillan, Into the Blue. During the period when he was an instructor at Chattis Hill he occasionally flew a Sopwith Pup, than which 'there never was, and never can be, a nicer aeroplane," and he was describing the sensations of flying over Hampshire in mid-May. "The faint perfume of early summer scented the air and mingled with the tang of castor oil Occasionally a plover flapped aside in sudden fright. . . The Isle of Wight lay green across the waters of the Solent . . . and I . . . chased the long shadows down the woody dells of the New Forest on the homeward run." INDICATOR.
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