In the tradition of ILAFFT I submit this Caco war story for those that are interested. I hope the statute of limitations applies, as this goes back many years, and this story doesn’t really reflect any credit on me, and had I screwed up even worse, the CAA would certainly have taken a dim view of my performance and lack thereof or simply sent an observer to my funeral.
I had been flying for about a year and had managed to assemble about 85 hrs P1 time and had undertaken the 15 hours training for the issue of the IMC but had not sat the test yet.
I was accustomed to flying from Cardiff Roose to Bournemouth, for business meetings, it certainly beat the long tedious 3 hours drive by car, and my boss at the time asked me if he could join me and if we could we fly via Exeter where he wanted to pick up his SOCATA TB-9 Tampico which was having some avionics problem fettled there, from where he would fly back to Cardiff.
The day dawned with conditions for marginal VFR to Exeter and along the coast but good at Bournemouth, and, what the hell, I had the huge total of 85 P1 hours, so off we went.
The flight to Exeter went smoothly and I didn’t at any time on that leg violate the UK ANO pertaining to the conduct of VFR flight and having landed was directed off the maintenance side where I dropped my boss off and then taxied to the other side to pay the landing fee and the exorbitant “handling” fee for the man with the batons as well.
As I crossed from airside, I was delighted to see that I had arrived at the same time as the Red Arrows whose pilots were in the queue in front of me, and I was able to bask in their reflected glory and even talk to two of these friendly Sky Gods.
The pain of landing fee payment was assuaged by the experience, and my cup of joy ran over at engine start, up for the VFR flight to Bournemouth, when I realised that I had been cleared to follow behind the line of Hawks at a distance as we taxied down to the holding point. The tower having kindly elected to allow me to have a very good look at the team and their take off. Not at any time did I think to recheck the weather for the short leg to Bournemouth, such was the excitement of being in such exalted company.
The boys in Red blasted off and I was asked to line up, and by the time I was cleared for take-off. I heard the Red’s leader call back to the tower to report they were already at FL090 and request change of frequency for their onward flight to Valhalla or glory, or wherever those guys go.
I opened up the throttle and the noise increased but not so much the speed and eventually I bimbled along and up and levelled off at my safety altitude at 2000 feet and was passed directly to Yeovil Radar who advised me of the regional QNH and Flight Information Service and apart from a faint transitory warble through the headset I settled down, in the comfortable cocoon of the cockpit, soothed by the drone of the Lycoming for the straightforward flight to Bournemouth as the visibility started to inexorably reduce but not at a rate that worried me as I glanced at my chart and my watch, fat dumb and happy with my heading, speed and position.
I didn’t have a GPS but had dialled up the BIA NDB after having been careful to correctly select the correct frequency on the ADF, identify the Morse ident and checked the needle to ensure that the ADF, was ‘ADFing’! I was bang on track, monitoring the DME, having dialled up the Bournemouth frequency on the VOR, and was full of my own confidence in my preternatural skill and sundry other immodest thoughts, when the world went white…
I was inadvertently flying in IMC conditions, how could I have been so stupid, so careless and I immediately could hear my old instructor’s voice intoning the following mantra in my head “stay calm, ensure you focus on the AI, check you are trimmed correctly, focus on the AI, fly straight and level, glance at you RPM to check you have correct cruise power, carb heat to hot, focus on the AI, keep those wing level, no, graveyard spirals, focus on the AI, does it look like you are likely to exit IMC on the heading, no, then confirm the reciprocal to heading flown and plan a no more than a 15% degree turn back to VFR condition from whence you came, focus on the AI, check, your heading, keep up a scan, don’t overbank, check your heading and roll out on the chosen heading”.
Well I did almost all of that, but deep in IMC, I decided to dig myself in deeper by deciding to press on, with the previous promise of VFR ahead of me and that is when I realised that I had entered Bournemouth Class D airspace, in IMC without a clearance!
There was nothing for it, I would have to admit my predicament and that’s when things just got worse.
I dialled up Bournemouth approach and heard my words hiss out into the clag, with no response, as I bored onwards. I tried again to contact approach, not a peep, despite my faux calm Boac Captain like voice, and then there came a calm female voice over the headphones, “aircraft calling carrier wave only, if you are able to hear me Squawk 0011 and take up a heading of 180 degrees and await further instructions”. I didn’t wait for the “if not” and immediately followed her instructions and the recent hours of IMC tuition came to my aid as she vectored me onto the ILS to make an approach for runway 26 and I broke out at 500 feet and landed. I climbed out of the aircraft and literally wrung the sweat out of my shirt. It turned out that the strange sound I had heard earlier was the radio transmitter failing.
I then had the predicament of having to go to the building next to the tower as the helpful lady controller had asked me to come over, no doubt to explain myself and discuss the CAA enforcement action to come etc. But no, when I arrived a pretty young English lady came down to meet the mute PA28 pilot she had just helped out and not a word was said save for, a big smile and “I spent many years in Zimbabwe, mind you if I had known you were a bloody South African I would have vectored you back to Exeter”. I could have kissed her.
Little did she know!
Caco