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Aviation History
1962
1962 - 0524.PDF
Heavenly transport for the clergy: now the property of a very sporting priest, this P.M.280 Tartuca was built in ten weeks from scratch by a Milan group of aeronautical students VINTAGE VOYAGE... the weather had turned sour we might have been poised there for some time. The alternative would have been to fly over Geneva through the Bellegarde gap and into the lower Rhone Valley in order to make southing. However, the weather was more than kind and by the time we had sorted ourselves out the next morning and refuelled, two Pipers had already flown in from Lugano, reporting perfect conditions, with clear air and no Fohn. The gliding club and its Dewoitine suspended activities momen tarily while we staggered off, the combination of heavy, damp Lucerne grass, 2,000ft altitude and saddle-back terrain making the old Whitney pant more than a little. Once airborne, however, the long climb to safety height was no problem, the altimeter indicating 9,000ft over Montreux, with more to come. Navigation was no great problem. All we had to do was to follow the great slot of the upper Rhdne Valley, turn left round the prominent Dent de Morcles near Martigny, taking care to keep the airstrip of Sion to port—there is a fan-shaped danger area to the north of this field—and thereafter looking out for the marshalling yard at Brig, where one must turn right to follow the road over the Simplon. The jade-green Aletsch glacier, pointing straight at the town, is a useful checkpoint for Brig. Up here the air was as clear as gin, giving unforgettable views of practically every peak in Switzerland; Mont Blanc, 65 miles away, seemed right on our starboard wing-tip. Once over the top, one finds the Divedro valley leading to Domodossola, whence one has the choice of heading south along a wide valley to Verbania or east to Ancona and Locarno at the head of Lake Maggiore. We took the latter course, overflying Locarno and turning south round the Monte Ceneri NDB to Lugano, our destination. Like all Swiss valley airfields, Lugano is a single strip, running up and down the valley; the tarmac runway is a recent addition. It is, in fact, situated some way from the town, at Agno. A large hill, decorated with bungalows and sunbathers on its summit, makes the downwind leg at Agno most entertaining; somehow one automatically flies level with the sights. The airfield itself is extremely fashionable, with a beautifully appointed hotel (complete with swimming pool and mermaids) right next to Control. Agno is obviously where the smart executive, rather than the impecunious enthusiast, flies. We hoped that Uniform Juliet did not look too much of a decayed gentlewoman among the shiny Bonanzas and Apaches. Here instructional flying was taking place, using the ubiquitous Cub and a Tri-Pacer. Perhaps the most interesting aircraft in the hangar was a little Italian Meteor FL.55. Eschewing the lush hotel, we remembered our vows of economy An Aviamilano P. 19 in the hangar at Bresso. Of mixed construction, it looked a sturdy and practical machine 522 FLIGHT International, 5 April J 96 2 and walked into the village, finding simple and extremely cheap accommodation in the private quarters of a trattoria for the princely equivalent of 15s—for the two of us. At 11.29hr next morning we were again airborne, this time for Turin Caselle, a flight of approximately 80 miles. Take-off was made more interesting by an American-registered Apache, which entered the windward end of the runway just as we had started to roll, and proceeded to back-track towards us.. . . We smartly abandoned that run and waited for the Apache to come alongside; even then he did not appear to notice us. Once again the pronounced topography made navigation easy. Flying was simply a matter of following Lake Lugano south to Varese and then turning westwards, keeping the Alpine foothills on our right. The big reservoir south of Biella was an unmistakable checkpoint, and provided the clue to call Turin on 119.7 Mc/s. There was immediate clearance to join the circuit and ten minutes later we were floating over the pantiled roofs of Caselle village on to the shimmering black runway. What could have been a dignified taxying performance was spoilt by vicious fade in the starboard brake; but Control saw our difficulty and despatched one erk on one carrier bicycle to lend a hand. Unfortunately the bicycle and the Whitney were too much of a handful for this character, so I hung on to the wing-tip and left him to taxi his own machine. Leaving Uniform Juliet to flirt with a Nibbio and a Comanche on the apron, we braced ourselves to deal with officialdom. We could not have been more surprised; in contrast with dreaded tales of hours of delay, everything was dealt with inside half an hour, a guide being appointed to take us between the various departments. I believe we had the newly formed Italian private pilots' association to thank for this treatment; they are obviously doing a fine job in persuading the Italian Air Force, who run all the airports, that there is perhaps some justification for private aviation. Latin texts were an essential flight-safety feature of the priest's P.M.280 Tartuca For the next two days, thanks to good friends at Fiat, we became motorists, exploring Turin and Piedmont, and making a confirmed Italiophile of Bill. In the course of one of these excursions we investigated the grass field at Milan Bresso, which has been re opened for private aircraft and has Customs on request. The very agreeable commandant, who has just been seconded to a ground job after 25 years of military flying, showed us round the tumble down hangars which he now commands. The heterogeneous col lection of aircraft they house would make any civil-aircraft spotter drool. Perhaps the cream of the selection was the tiny CVV P.M.280 Tartuca (tortoise) 16ft 5in span, low-wing monoplane with retract able undercarriage which is claimed to attain 160 m.p.h. on a 60 b.h.p. CNA flat-four engine. According to one informant this 1952 machine is at present the property of a local priest, who judiciously lubricates himself with the excellent red wine of the region as a preliminary to indulging in aerobatics of the fiercer kind. Thanks no doubt to the Latin texts which adorn the fuselage he is still with us, and so far has only forgotten to lower the undercarriage twice. A further remarkable thing about this aircraft was that the total time to design and build it was a mere ten weeks! At Bresso, too, the new Aviamilano P.19 trainer was being assembled in far from ideal conditions, surrounded by such oddities as an Ambrosini Grifo, a Rondini, an early Aeromere two-seater, a pre-war Caproni biplane trainer and an ancient Fiat monoplane used for banner towing. To be concluded
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