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Aviation History
1963
1963 - 0142.PDF
130 FLIGHT International, 24 January ]% Fully Tropicalized for Winter Flying . . . Passing thoughts on a Delivery Trip from Freezing Prestwick to Frozen Southend BY KEITH SISSONS ONE night the other week, seated comfortably in the rear of a Boeing 707 at 32,000ft on my way from London to Prest wick. I was thumbing through the latest Flight International. Having declined yet another cup of coffee, 1 reflected as the steward ess took my meal tray on how flying had changed in the past 20 years or so. From my vantage-point the cabin of the 707 looked more like the Mersey Tunnel than the inside of a vehicle speeding across the winter skies above the weather at nearly the speed of sound. I thought, as many must have done, "This is the way to travel—and all for three guineas!" I turned a page and saw N. J. Capper's article "There's still Fun in Flying," about a Twin Pioneer flight from Prestwick to Philadelphia. I started to read, but didn't get very far; we were already on the approach to snow-covered Prestwick. On arrival my colleague and I checked with Met for our proposed ferry flight, next day, in another Twin Pioneer—not to Philadelphia but to Redhill. The cold easterly airstream bringing havoc to surface travel and delays in air schedules would continue to bring snow in the south, severe icing in cloud and the risk of freezing rain. It was already New Year's Eve and time for bed, so we ordered a forecast, wondering if the forecaster's pessimism would prove justified by daylight. A visit to the Met office a few hours later gave no comfort. Our aircraft had no de-icing equipment and, with freezing rain still forecast, the chances of reaching Gatwick or Southend were little better than remote (Redhill was in deep snow and unfit to land on). However, the prospect of celebrating Hog manay in Scotland was not to be spurned and there was little point in attempting to reach the Midlands, where all the airfields had low cloud or very high winds, poor runway conditions or combina tions of all three. Winds on the Nose Next day, having celebrated Hogmanay satisfactorily, we bade the forecaster a Happy New Year and proceeded to examine his chart. Warmer air which had started to creep across Southern England was now receding, and there was a risk of freezing rain. Winds were on the nose at 45kt at 2,000ft but only averaging 25-30kt at 7,000ft. Main cloud was strato-cumulus, base 2,000-3,000ft, tops 6,000ft. with alto-stratus/alto-cumulus above. Low stratus was forecast in the south. Sigmet reports gave severe turbulence and severe icing en route. The chances of an improvement in the foreseeable future were unlikely. To fly below cloud out to sea around the Cumbrian mountains with a 60kt ground speed would entail a refuelling stop in the Midlands, preferably at Birmingham, but with the risk of running into very low cloud and severe rime ice. Flying above cloud on air ways we would be clear of ice and able to make Southend direct. We would have to leave airways at Lichfield as we had no VOR receiver and would try to remain on top to Southend if able to get permission from London to cross Red 1 at Matching. We had no fan-marker receiver, so would have to use a radial from Stansied NDB. If not cleared for this we would have to descend in the FIR, hoping to be able to remain below cloud for the rest of the way. if not, we would have to divert to Birmingham or Manchester, where the winds had dropped. At Southend during descent we should not pick up a lot of ice; the main inconvenience would be windscreen icing. Therefore we would take a bottle of de-icing fluid and a rag to assist the windscreen wipers. At Prestwick AIC we enquired whether Scottish and Preston air- ways would be co-operative and let us on A1 without a fan-marker receiver or VOR. After all, there were no fan markers or VORs between Prestwick and Lichfield. Airways agreed, but we would have to check with London FIS after Lichfield regarding crossing Red 1. At 6,500ft we broke into sunshine, the layer of strato-cumulus looking remarkably like the snow-covered earth we had just left. The little rime we had collected in the thin layer of cloud was of no consequence and the air was smooth. From the sun's rays emanated a warmth more psychological than physical: our fully tropicalized and unheated aeroplane seemed a flying sieve, through which the draughts penetrated our sweaters, flying suits, Irvin jackets and several pairs of socks. We bunged up a leaking ventilator with newspaper and settled down for a cold three and a half hour flight. Our forecast had apparently been a good one; we were between layers and the wind was even a little less than hoped. At Lichfield we left Al, setting course for Stansted NDB. The sky ahead appeared clear at our level and with the better winds we decided to forgo the comforts of warmer air lower down but with the attendent risk of icing in low cloud farther on. London In formation were helpful, and Airways agreed to let us cross Red 1 at our level at Braintree. We asked for clearance through Stansted NDB as we had no room for Stansted's frequency in our ten-channel set. London (which seemed rather busy, there appearing to be more aircraft crossing airways than flying on them) helpfully agreed to contact Stansted. Eventually Stansted's approval came through and we crossed Red 1 on time. We called Southend, requesting if possible a fast descent and a radar approach to reduce our time in ice-bearing cloud; but, of course, we had only one Southend frequency in this sparsely equipped aeroplane. Southend, always co-operative, agreed, although we could have managed on the NDB alone, orbiting below cloud to clear the windscreen if necessary. Thanks to ATC As we let down, Southend talking us on to a long final and the windscreen wipers fighting a losing battle with the ice, an inter mittent tapping on the fuselage informed us that the propellers dis approved of the stuff and were slinging it off in contempt. We levelled at 1,000ft and asked Southend where to orbit if we over- shot. A glimpse of the snow-covered ground appeared through the side window—we were through. The wipers swish-swashed, seem ingly getting nowhere; my colleague, bottle of de-icing fluid at the ready, gazed hopefully forward. We were cold enough already and none too keen at the prospect of cleaning the windscreen manually; but gradually the ice cleared and the approach lights appeared ahead. At one mile we could see enough and we landed on the snow-covered runway. Taxying in, 1 thought Southend Air port, with its untidy piles of cleared snow, sanded taxiways, muffled ground staff and two Caribous parked in front of the tower, looked more like an airfield in Canada than one in Essex. As we trudged through the crisp snow across the apron, I thought of our uneventful trip, which had gone according to plan largely through co-operation from the ground. Many brickbats are thrown at ATC; but on New Year's Day, 1963, I had a few bouquets to hand out. Had it not been for this co-operation we might have been delayed in Scotland for days. From weather reports the next day, giving freezing drizzle once more, this would almost certainly have been the case. As I entered the BUA crew-room, flying jacket in hand, still feel ing very cold and obviously looking it, a colleague remarked: "You really look as if you have been 'Pioneering'." I paused for a moment, thinking of the large jets scorching through the skies all over the world and of our own hour's flight to Prestwick at 32,000ft in perfect comfort two days earlier. Capp's article came to mind, and I said, "You know, there's still fun in flying—if you like that sort of thing!"
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