Black Beauty

I had several reasons for wanting to buy Viv's attractive little black RAF 2000 autogyro: 

reason one was that if I was going to learn to fly a gyro, it would be a whole lot cheaper to be learning in my own gyro than in a school's/instructor's gyro (as long as I didn't bend it, but that would get expensive irrespective of whose gyro I was flying), and if I was going to buy a gyro sooner or later, before or after training, it might as well be before to save a fair bit of cash;

reason two was that G-BYJA, being an RAF 2000 is a fully enclosed two-seat gyro, and with its tailplane (an after-market addition for enhanced stability), it's allowed to fly with the side doors on, making it much more of an all-weather aircraft than the many and varied designs of open cockpit gyros, though I will still only be able to fly in VFR (visual flight rules) conditions, i.e. within sight of the ground essentially, not into cloud or at night; 

reason three was that  it seemed to be a very tidy craft, assembled and checked by Viv, who really seemed to know what he was doing, and a person for whom safety was always the dominant factor;

reason four was that I hadn't seen many RAF 2000's for sale since my interest in gyros had blossomed, and if I missed this one, I might have to wait a long time to find another example as good as this; 

reason five was that there are other two-seat enclosed gyros around, but not at anything like the price of this one, and even fewer secondhand, also, a new RAF 2000 was not especially affordable either, and I'd have to build it myself. 

So all in all, G-BYJA seemed like the right gyro for me I decided. 

Not having owned an aircraft before, what I hadn't expected was the level of red tape involved, for want of a better description. It's understandable though: the authorities don't want several hundred kilos of aircraft dropping out of the sky onto someone's house, or a bus, or a motorway. Viv furnished me with a significant array of documents, ranging from the building instructions through to all the recent additions such as the radio and tailplane and their accompanying certifications proving their safety for in-flight use. 

What it didn't include was the Certificate of Airworthiness, to be exact the LAA (Light Aircraft Association) "Certificate of Validity - Permit to fly". As G-BYJA hadn't flown for quite a few years, it needed a professional flight test to confirm its safety. 

It just happened that I was at Little Rissington on the 28th October 2010 when the weather was a bit overcast but not too windy for flying, and there was Viv, doing the final checks  of G-BYJA prior to her first flight since 2001: 

Once he was satisfied all was well, and Tony Melody, the official tester was also satisfied, they both got in and after a good loud "CLEAR PROP" started the engine:

I'd got permission from Tony to follow them out in the car onto the airfield, though he carefully briefed me as to where I could and couldn't go for our mutual safety. He lent me a magnetic flashing orange light to put on the roof and so I followed them up the taxiway and down to the end of runway 23. 

Soon enough, G-BYJA was up to full power and accelerating up the runway towards me, then airborne: 

 

I was struggling to get the camera to focus on this fast moving target (probably down to my inability to get the right settings) but at least I got this shot of the first takeoff of G-BYJA for nine years.

A few seconds later, Viv and Tony were fast disappearing into the distance:

That was a very satisfying sight!

Take off

I'd been told that Thursdays and Fridays were good days to find Tony Melody, an instructor on gyros who trains student pilots from Little Rissington, so on Thursday the 21st October 2010, I set out on the bike again for the airfield. 


It wasn't difficult to find Tony once I got there and he was very friendly, helpful and chatty. He also introduced me to Viv Freke who was equally friendly and interesting to chat with. Both Viv and Tony were obviously very familiar with all aspects of gyros, and the more I chatted with them, the more impressed I was with their obvious depth of knowledge. 


Viv was working on a rather nice looking black RAF 2000 GTX-SE when I arrived, but apparently, it wasn't quite ready for flight. His other machine though, was flight-ready and as I was obviously very keen, Viv kindly offered to take me up for a brief gyro experience flight. It seems that some people find flight in a gyro a bit disturbing, especially the landing which usually involves a fairly steep descent. I didn't think I'd be fazed by that so jumped at the chance.


After pulling Viv's other machine out of the hangar, he checked it over thoroughly and gave me a comprehensive safety briefing. While it's obvious to keep clear of the propeller for instance, it's less obvious at first glance that the gyro's main rotor can easily descend below head height and is surprisingly hard and dangerous, even when rotating quite slowly. In due course, we were strapped in to the tiny cockpit of Viv's other RAF 2000, and ready to taxi out to the runway.


Looking back on just the preliminaries to the take-off, I learnt a great deal from Viv: all sorts of subtleties from mechanical sympathy for the gyro, to basic radio procedures. Soon enough we were at the end of the runway, facing into wind, with the main rotor pre-rotated up to 150 rpm. Putting the Subaru engine up to full power, Viv released the brakes and we accelerated briskly up the gentle slope of the runway. After a very few seconds we were airborne and climbing rapidly towards the low cloudbase. Levelling out at about 1,000 feet I had difficulty believing that just over a minute before, we'd been on the ground, and now the airfield looked remarkably small.


After a circuit or two of the airfield, we headed off north, in due course reaching the Fire Service College at Moreton-in-Marsh where we did a sharp turn to head back to Little Rissington. It's quite interesting doing a sharp turn in an RAF 2000: one moment you're flying gently along at 70 mph (though you wouldn't know it apart from the airspeed indicator) with a nice level horizon all round, and then all of a sudden, your view out of the large transparent door on your right is filled with ground and it feels as though you could just fall out. Of course I couldn't fall out (even if I hadn't been securely strapped in) because Viv's expert piloting ensured that the G forces were all just right to hold me in my seat with no sideways force at all.


On the way back, it soon became apparent that navigating at 1,000 feet or more is a very different prospect to navigating at ground level. Gone are all the helpful road signs and familiar landmarks. One village or small town looks very like any other. Main roads are busier than minor roads, but they don't have big numbers on them proclaiming their identification, so one 'A' road looks very much like any other 'A' road. The same with rivers and railway lines. None of this of course disturbed Viv as he unerringly found his way back to the airfield, which I had difficulty even spotting until we were almost above it. I hadn't seen the light plane crossing our path at the same altitude either, though Viv obviously had, but it didn't merit any avoidance manoeuvre, even though we could have waved to the other pilot.


All too soon it seemed, we were diving towards the ground in a very controlled but steep descent. I was totally relaxed about it, having been pre-warned by Viv about the steep approach which was necessary to keep the rotor speed up. What I hadn't expected was that we wouldn't land back on the runway we took off from, because of course we didn't need the braking distance that most aircraft do. Instead, we landed on the end of a different runway, coming in sideways to it, and, so far as I could tell, landed vertically with no forward motion at all, and very gently. It was all a bit surprising how quickly our fast forward/downward motion had been converted to completely stationary.


We taxied back to the hangar and put the lovely little craft away. At some point in the ensuing conversation I gathered that the other RAF 2000 Viv was working on was being readied for its first test flight for some time, as it had been involved in a minor, but costly, rollover accident on landing some years ago, and Viv had being doing the finishing touches to get it fully airworthy again, with a view to selling it.

"Selling it" .........  these words rattled around in my brain for a short time. I knew from my research into gyros that there weren't all that many RAF 2000s in the UK, and that they probably didn't come up for sale very often, especially not ones like this that were in many respects, brand new and obviously in beautiful condition. "Would you sell it to me?" I enquired. 


Viv replied that the aircraft needed to be test flown (by himself and Tony) prior to getting its certificate of airworthiness, and then he'd be advertising it for the asking price, and wouldn't be open to offers as he'd spent a fair amount of money on new parts, as well as the hours of work. 


I started calculating whether I could afford it if I sold the shares I'd bought in my old company while I was working. I reckoned I could. 


But could I even fly it? What if I was a complete idiot when it came to controlling a sensitive, and potentially dangerous machine like this? How different is it doing 70 mph at 1,000 feet with few things to hit compared to doing 70 mph on the ground on a motorbike where there are lots of things to hit, and hit you? I was starting to convince myself that G-BYJA was a part of my future! 

A Living Legend

A few people may have heard of Wing Commander Ken Wallis. Many more will have seen him (anonymously) flying 'Little Nellie' as James Bond (Sean Connery in other scenes) in 'You Only Live Twice'.

'Little Nellie' is a bright yellow, rocket-firing autogyro, one of many autogyro designs created by Ken Wallis. I have long been impressed by photos and videos of Ken flying his wonderful designs, often with no hands, proving how stable and safe these tiny flying machines are:

YouTube video of Ken Wallis

It seemed to me that an autogyro could provide a safe way of flying without the huge expenses involved in something like a helicopter or a light plane, and having an undercarriage for landing on might be a whole lot less risky than using my feet to touch down on as I used to do when hang gliding. An autogyro can also land, rather like a helicopter, in a very short space, and takes off with a much shorter run than most light aircraft, making it very versatile in its choice of locations to fly from.

So, a bit of research on the Wonderful Worldwide Web soon revealed several schools ready to take my money and introduce me to the world of gyro flight.

Most of them though, seemed to rely on the Rotorsport MT03 or MTO-Sport open cockpit models for training. Undoubtedly fun, but in Britain's inclement and often rather cool weather, I felt that at 2,000 feet up and doing 70 mph, it was going to get a bit cold. I know how cold it can get at 0 feet doing 70 mph on the ZZR600 and think that at my age, I'll leave such masochistic pursuits to the younger, hardier fliers.

But, the idea wouldn't go away and I discovered that some autogyro flying/training happened at RAF Little Rissington, a 2nd World War RAF airfield they don't use any more, but is used for glider training at the weekends.

So, one sunny Sunday in the autumn of 2010, I rode up there to have a look. It was, it seemed to me, a perfect flying day, but no sign of any aircraft movements. One helpful pilot working on his 2-seater plane said it would be okay for me to walk around the hanger. What a little treasure trove, aircraft of all shapes and sizes, and in the dim recesses at the back, various gyros.

Up close, I had difficulty believing that these tiny machines could really fly. They were so much smaller than the 2-seater planes I'd passed further up the hangar. I wanted to know more. I wanted to see these things fly for real, not just on YouTube. But it didn't look as though it was going to happen that Sunday so I made a note to come back soon.