Well, finally I had the time, weather and courage to take the long planned trip from Wigan to Penarth in South Wales. The 160 mile flight took the least of planning as I didn’t have any ground support to organise and my mates were too tied up in other commitments to come at the time. I must admit, I would have liked to have someone there when I landed but I found it hard to convince anyone to travel over 220 miles by road just to fetch me butties and fuel! So there I was on Thursday evening (3 April) sitting on the floor at home, double checking the forecasts and confirming the coordinates for the GPS and generally just preparing this and that for the trip. The other half was on the 6 – 2 shift the following morning so the plan was to get up with her at 04:30, pack the car, make us brekkie, take her to work then head straight to the field. The forecast wasn’t ideal, but it was good enough for me! A good wind speed of 10 mph from the NW and the chance of drizzle in the morning, then dissipating cloud in the afternoon. I decided to wait and see what the morning would bring. I had a poor sleep that night, the trepidation and uncertainty of completing the journey ran through my mind. I think I even dreamt I had done the trip, so when the alarm went off over an hour before dawn, I felt a bit sick, a bit nervous. I looked out the window to check what the weather had decided to do. It looked ok. The cloudbase was higher that I expected (I could tell this as there wasn’t the usual heavy orange glow of the town lighting up the sky). The confirmation that I was about to do the trip kicked the adrenaline in. The buzz of it killed the tiredness and seemed to kick the trepidation in the butt. I was about to do this trip after 9 months of waiting

I arrived at the field at 06:05 after dropping Amy off at work. The sky was starting to turn a dirty blue as the early dawn light tried to pass through the suppressing cloud. I was surprised to see the wind was blowing at 10 – 15 mph this early. Anti cyclone weather usually causes the nights to be a bit calmer than this. I dismissed this as the result of the weak weather front that was passing over. The cloudbase looked fairly low but visibility was acceptable within the realms of Airlaw. After checking the gear over, I clipped in and squeezed the primer. One press on the electric start button got her running. After checking the Alto/vario and GPS the motor had warmed up enough to open her up. The trees were swaying in the breeze and it was much brighter now, but there was no sign of any breaks in the cloud. I stood up and squeezed the throttle on full. She responded perfectly. I was time to launch. I reversed into the breeze and in a couple of small steps I was up. T/O at 06:40. Penetration into wind was very slow. I climbed up to 500ft in what seemed to be a personal record, then swung around and headed south under the low air corridor towards Oulton Park race circuit – my first waypoint. Ground speed over 40 as I headed down wind. It was fairly dull and pretty cold but I hoped the weather would begin to clear up in an hour or two as the forecast predicted. I covered the 30 mile flight to the Oulton Park VRP in 45minutes. Then I headed SW towards my first port of call, Oswestry. Ground speed decreased to just 22mph as I travelled SW in a moderate Northwesterly. Ahead I could see the horizon begin to glow a mucky orange colour, a certain confirmation of brighter weather to come, and as I approached Wrexham, the cloud began to clear and the sun came through. I looked back to see the nasty grey mess I had been flying beneath. The whole landscape was now shrouded in pure sunshine for as far as the eye could see. Thankfully things were starting to pick up. I had been in the air for just two hours and the GPS stated I was just 2 miles from my first port of call – a fuel station just South East of Oswestry – 75 miles from launch. Ahead I could see the small white square roof above the busy forecourt just off the roundabout on the A483, surrounded by a mass of farmland. I selected an ideal field to land in and turned the engine off at 1500 FT. It was now 08:40 and already the air was becoming less stable than when I took off. I came in fast and was surprised at the speed I had to run as I touched down. As the wing settled to my left, I unclipped the leg and chest straps and took off the helmet. Everything now seemed very still and quiet after two hours of two stroke banter. The air was still and warm, the sun had already begun to do its stuff. I unclipped my extra 5 litre tank and walked the 400 yards to get some fuel, leaving the gear in the field. After repeating this to fill the required 10 litres I had already used, I lay back in the sun and chilled for an hour. I had after all waited to do this trip for the last 9 months – I didn’t want it to be over in a jiffy! After refolding my maps I rang my mates at work to rub in the adventure I was having. It was then that I noticed the farmer cross the field towards me. The friendly chap asked the usual questions and was intrigued on where I had come from and where I was heading. I clipped in for the next leg to Hay on Wye, 15 miles North of the Brecon Beacons. It was 10:00 and I still had almost 100 miles of adventure to do!

I found it hard to climb for the first minute after launch. After that, I climbed like a rocket up to 3000ft. The engine running like a dream (as it always does). I had been in the air for an hour when I really began to notice the thermals. The air was becoming fairly bumpy and assymetrics were becoming the norm. I felt fairly comfortable in the conditions but I found it hard work flying in a straight line as the wing dipped here and there in an unpredictable manner, swinging me up to 90 degrees either way, but that was the least of my worries. I was flying in ‘safe territory’, and was nowhere near any controlled airspace. The nearest form of control was the AIAA, a good 20 miles east. So there I was about 1000 ft AGL, drinking a warm can of Dr. Pepper and eating a tracker when this military jet screamed almost beneath me. I put the beverage between my knees and did a party trick with the Tracker. I hit full throttle to get as high as I could. The higher I am the more noticeable I’ll be! It took a few minutes to climb to 4000ft. In that time I saw numerous jets flying here and there. I didn’t feel quite so confident and relaxed anymore and for the next 45 minutes I was doing more plane spotting rather than admiring the view from my seat in the sky.

After 105 long minutes I arrived at my second and final fuel station. This one was situated right in the middle of nowhere next to a lovely place called Hay on Wye. One of the most picturesque areas I had seen so far. The Wye river gently meandering through the fields, dotted here and there with plentiful wildlife. I circled the area twice, looking for the ideal spot to land. Oddly enough, amongst the mass of fields down there I could see only one that was suitable for landing in. It was a fairly big piece of land and void of livestock and crops, however right at the end was an open gate leading to a field with cows in it. I decided to land far away from that gate. Surely the cows would keep themselves to themselves wouldn’t they? Engine off at 1000 ft I silently glided in and touched down on the short grass right next to the hedges. I removed my helmet and ear protectors straight away as the air was already very warm. It was almost midday. I could hear the unnerving sound of hoofs behind me. As I turned to look at the open gate my insides began to fill with that sickening feeling you get when your worst fears come true. Around 20 cows were thumping towards me. If that wasn’t bad enough the closer they got the more I could see the two little white protruding pieces of bones on there heads. I suddenly realised I they weren’t cows – they were bloody bulls. My heart sank deeply. I quickly, gathered the wing to save it from the stampede. I was still strapped in the harness. I turned around, my back towards the beasts – paramotor hopefully acting as some sort of protection. I waited for the stampede….and waited. I heard them slow their gallop as I stood there in total fear. They had stopped right behind me. I could hear them breathing almost down my neck. As I turned to see the situation, I saw the beasts were not more than five feet away. I stood there just looking at them. I took a good look around for any sign of a farmer. There was none. I was all alone face to face with 10 ton of muscle. In a brave attempt I raised my hand to them. ‘AWAY’ I said. Either these Bulls were genetically modified to understand human speech or I Dr Dolittle. They actually began to back off! I disconnected the wing with the intention of taking it with me to the fuel station (it was too far to comfortably carry the motor as well). As I carefully walk on the Bulls followed. I made sure I walked backwards so I could keep an eye on them. I reached the iron gate but it was locked. I threw the wing over then climbed over and walked into to forecourt to get the fuel. On returning to the field with fuel, the paramotor was shrouded by the Bulls. I began to think the worst. Maybe they were getting the taste for the prop. I hesitantly walked over, making sure I did no sudden movements or threatening actions. I did the dolittle and thankfully they moved on. The paramotor had almost escaped the curse of the beasts. It was completely covered in slime. They hadn’t been eating the unit, they had been licking it.

I had planned on arriving in Penarth at 16:00. It had just past midday and the temperature was really picking up. There was no need to get back up there so soon – I only had another 60 miles to do. The Bulls had moved on, and I was quite happy now that the sense of danger had passed and I was about to live to tell the tale. I opened an ice cold can of shandy I had just bought, lay down my jacket and lay there in the green grass, enjoying the warm sunshine and the sounds (and natural smells) of the Welsh countryside. At 14:00 I called my sister and confirmed my ETA of 16:00. She confirmed the wind speed in Penarth was just 8mph Westerly. By now, the temperature was a lovely 17c and the wind had picked up to 15mph. It was time to go. If the wind picks up any more I may not get the complete the journey. I was stood with the engine ticking over ready to go. The wind gusted quite hard but had its moments of dying down to 10mph or so. I waited for the right moment and launched. I climbed up to 200ft quite quickly. Then I began to sink. Still on full throttle I was coming down. I was over the river. I turned away toward the land. At about 50 ft I began to climb again. At 1000ft I pressed my level flight button which is about half throttle. Over the next 30 minutes I had climbed up to 6000ft. A good safe altitude. At that height the temperature was about 8 degrees. I was just below cloudbase. In the distance I could see the usual site of high rolling hills topped with green fields and crops. Just beyond that the Brecon Beacons, distinctively shaped with sharp peaks and deep valleys. They were a dark brown colour, looking rugged and bold amidst their surroundings. The skies above blue, ribbed with lenticular clouds and medium cumulus. I decided not to fly over even at this height. They looked fantastic from the air but the air looked as if it could be menacing. Even as I passed them on the East I could feel the wing begin to bounce around more than before. The GPS now recorded a top speed of 53 mph – the quickest I had been all day. I was now just 45 miles from Penarth and could already see a thin silver line just below the horizon – the Bristol channel was now in sight and I could see my journey was almost at an end. I felt proud to have come this far, but also a bit saddened at the fact the little adventure I had waited so long to do was almost over. I was approaching Cardiff CTA. The airway I had been flying under most of the journey was getting lower. As I lay off the throttle the land beneath began to change. The rolling hills of the Welsh country slipped away to flatter pastures, the greens and browns gradually gave way to the more common sight of grey settlements. Finally, I could see the isle’s of Flatholme and Steepholme out there in the channel. Now only ten miles to go. I was now down to 1500ft QFE, airspeed now 38mph. I wasn’t too far now from the CTA (this was marked on the map just within the large tv transmitter that I could clearly see. I would be ok if I kept to the east of it). Cardiff was now to the west, topped with a large cumulus. It was 16:00 and the air was still saturated with thermic activity. As I approached Penarth I could see the big field I had planned to land on. I began to drift to the East as the sea breeze altered the wind direction to a Westerly. Now at 400ft and circling over the landing field I could see my sister, brother-in-law and three kids all waving up at me from the beer garden right next to the field – a nice welcome at the end of a long journey. Engine off, I landed silently and softly into a 15mph sea breeze. I collapsed the wing and walked towards it looping the lines around my arms then unclipped. The kids ran over and Jeff, my brother-in-law followed with a cool pint of Stella – a well deserved trophy for my achievement.

In total the journey took just under ten hours to complete (five hours airtime). I used 25 litres of fuel and 750 mls of TTS. I regret not taking the camera but there simply wasn’t the room for it with carrying a full bottle of oil, a can of Dr. Pepper, spare batteries, a tool kit, spare fuel pipe, a sparkplug, drivebelt and the electronics etc.

We drove back to Wigan the same evening, leaving my gear in Wales. Arrived home at 02:00 feeling completely exhausted after a 21 hour day. So now I am paramotorless. I’m planning to drive back down there over the easter weekend and maybe, if the weathers fine and there’s a good southerly breeze, I can do the trip again in reverse.

Nick Darbyshire
Nick.Darbyshire@littlewoods.co.uk

MOTOR: Unknown
WING: Unknown