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| 31 July 2005 - Branscombe Air
day and Classic car show |
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The weekend weather forecast was not
too promising, but Sunday did look the better day. We had thought about
going to Sandown on the Isle of Wight as they had a Flyin and air display but
the cost was going to be £28 per person, which we thought was just a little
expensive. So we decided to revisit Branscombe. We had attended
their air day and classic car show several times before and always had a good
time, the only problem was we woke up to the nightmare of fog. Never the
less we ventured to the airfield and spent some time pinning more sheeting to
the already home made cotton wing covers to improve their performance in keeping
off the little birds "presents". Having done all we could on
that exercise we telephoned Branscombe to hear that their weather was fine, so
after a stop off at Popham for fuel we headed West.
We encountered a little rain and quite
a lot of cloud on the way down but by the time we had the Dorset coast in view
the weather definitely improved, and the sun tried to shine. We flew over
the last bit of Chesil beach, Burton Bradstock, Lyme Regis with its memories of
the French Lieutenants Woman. Then onto Seaton, Beer and finally
Branscombe.
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| There were several planes in the
circuit as it was close to the declared final landing time. We had extend
our circuit a little to ensure the microlight in front of us was clear of the
runway before we landed. We taxied to the end of the line of parked
planes and placed the chocks carefully around the wheels as there was quite an
incline to the field. We also turned the tail wheel around. |
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Almost immediately the airpark was
opened to the public so we decided to get our chairs out and rest awhile under
the wing of the plane enjoying a burger and coffee from the van close by.
Sadly not all parents realize that owners of planes do not appreciate small
children swinging the ailerons or tails of planes, there efforts of
"fun" can be quite dangerous for them and the pilots when they fly
home. It is lovely to see children who are really interested in planes but
sadly those that are not in my humble opinion should not be "dragged"
around the airfield bored and looking for fun. I love children so my
thoughts are for their enjoyment as well as those who enjoy flying.
I stand down from my soap box.
We were soon to be delighted by an
excellent air display. It included three turbulents, a
collection of WW1 replica aircraft, a pair of Harvards and a pair of
Mustangs. Later an interesting flight of three aircraft comprised a BA
Swallow, Fox Moth and a Jungman.
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Once the air park closed we decided to
do a tour of the two fields of cars and look at some of the car boot stalls
surrounding the field. Having travelled two thirds of the way into the
field, the heavens opened, and hail stones appeared form nowhere. We got
drowned, rather silly since we had weatherproof coats in the plane, but
there was little warning. We sadly returned to the plane rather soggy and
not managing to continue our trip around the cars.
After chatting with several other
owners over their planes and exchanging flying stories we decided to start the
return journey. The weather was not looking good so after consulting the
maps we decided to make a more direct journey home. We experienced many
showers on the way home and the cloud was getting lower. In some places
too low for comfort. Fortunately Martin is very experienced and was able
to read the weather and guide us through the clearer parts always keeping a look
out for emergency landing spots should the weather change. I just acted as
chief spotter of other planes and navigation aids - roads, railways used and
disused, airstrips, airfields, towns etc.
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Soon we were pleased to catch sight of
our home airfield and landed safely, putting the plane away, enjoyed a cup of
coffee and a quick chat to fellow aviators on the mobile to ensure they had
returned safely from their trips to other airfields. John had been to
Silverstone and Paul to Compton Abbas.
Home to download pictures and plan
next weekends trip.
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