As the days drew nearer to Good Friday, it looked like their may be the possibility of a longer XC flight down from home, near Huntly, Aberdeenshire, to Kinloch Rannoch, a SLD of around 120km or so! Yep, the wind was playing the right way, coming in from the South-East on the preceding days, and predicted to be lighter and more from direct East for the Friday. All systems go!

I’d prepared the route plan in advance, with contingency stops thought out in case of a hitch with motor, wing or pilot, though having already done the longest leg (between home and Braemar, SLD 55km) in reverse, but with wind assistance in around 75minutes with around half a thankful of fuel, I was pretty confident that all should go well. Oh yeah? That was until I set out!

The morning was bright, and hardly a breath of wind, or so it seemed, at least in the valley system where I live, and the wing came up no trouble forward, and away I went. The CorsAir motor opened up well and as reliable as always, and I was soon up and over the local forest; pretty soon, though, I got the impression that I was getting forward much more slowly than anticipated. I had already eased back the trim tabs on my Powerplay Sting, and had been using the speedbar a bit, but seemed to be just making heavy weather of things. Then I remembered a conversation with Chris Fairhurst, another flyer from Inverness, who had rang me earlier in the week to relate his exepriences, which were shared with another flyer here, John Fleming from Grantown on Spey. Chris told me that both his lightweight RAD and John’s more powerful Bailey units had “struggled” a bit with the air, though it was hard to place the cause on anything other than the strong inversion of air that we were experiencing in the last week, and that both motors from different makers and philosophical backgrounds had been similarly affected. Now here was I in the same boat; not that much of a head wind, but in fact rather more Southerly element in it than anticipated, but struggling to really get going at any real speed, and the climb rate was poorer than usual. I was starting to wonder whether I was doing the right thing!

Well, checking the fuel level with the aid of my rear view mirror (see XC in Scotland article), I could see that I was safe for getting around half-way to my original intended first stop off, which was a small hamlet with petrol station called Roughpark, and so set about scouting the open area around the petrol station there. I’d previously noted that they had 98 octane pumps there, which is always preferable to 95 octane.

On my approach, there was a nice big field with a gentle approach just between the A97 road and the river Don to the South, and I swung in reasonably high, to keep well clear of the overhead cables that run parallel to the road some 20 metres within the field. Down I came, speed bar re attached to the seat via trigger hooks, and trim tabs already pulled short again, and I “killed” the motor in preparation for landing. As I got within twenty foot above the ground, the wing leveled out, and I was aware that I was going to be in danger of running short of runway landing area! A quick flick of the starter button, and away I went round again, climbing to avoid some trees some way still ahead, but looming large when I had previously been coming in. On my second approach there was no mistake, I had been just a little over cautious with the height of approach, but this time all was well, and a nice gentle touch down ensued.

Having isolated the motor and unclipped, I looked around to find the best looking site to take off from again, and walked with the motor unit in situ there and gently put it down on the small knoll I had chosen. Back for the wing, and laid out again, ready for the off once I’d had my 98 fuel-fill. I’d gone from 9¾ litres (brimming full) to 2½ litres in 73 minutes, and had only come 27 km or so! I was a bit apprehensive, but still had a card up my sleeve – Emma, my ground crew in case of need! I quickly called her mobile and left a message of where I was, and took my portable tetra can-cum-instrument panel (see earlier article) to the garage. On the way I was asked the usual q’s by a nice elderly lady, and the garage mechanic who was also curious as to where I was going; when I told him my end destination, he must have thought I was mad! However the SLD is around 55% less than by road, so I was still pretty confident. But then, just to raise my anxiety a little more, I was told that there was no 98 fuel, they’d only got the old pump still in place and hadn’t replaced it – 95 was going to have to do! Well, best give it a go, I couldn’t go anywhere without, after all!

Upon getting back and refueling, I became aware of someone standing behind me, an elderly man, and was thinking, well, here goes again, when he piped up “ That’s a CorsAir Vortex you have, isn’t it?” – I could have fallenl over, I thought he wouldn’t know anything about the sport, much less what model I had! It turned out that “Jim” had 10 years free-flying experience, had flown fixed wing and micro-lights, but now fancied a paramotor! We quickly got into the groove, and I suggested he take a look at PAP’s Top 80 model, which I felt would suit his frame and build, and we exchanged numbers. Keen? You bet he was!! I said I’d give him a buzz in the new week, once I’d got back from the break - I’d just found my new, nearest fellow paramotoring enthusiast!

Well, after getting set again to go, I got caught in the forward or reverse dilemma, as there ware a few more gusty blows coming and going as I prepared to take off, which were probably magnified by the overall proximity of the woods surrounding the village. Anyway, after a second failed attempt at a reverse t/o, I had a look round the field, found a more level site further into the middle of the open area, and prepared for a forward launch. As it often happens, the wing came up fairly smartish, and I was momentarily halted in my tracks; a look over head, and on with the juice, a straight backed prance, and away I was again on the second leg of the morning! Climbing out of the village, I spotted Candacraig House, the home of comedian and Actor Billy Connolly (He of “John Brown” and his purple goatee on the Lotto adverts more recently), so out came the wee compact camera, and a pic was made.

Soon I got the impression that I was climbing much better than before, the air seemed a little lighter now, and an odd thermal was felt here and there, though I rode only one of these briefly, but it petered out fairly rapidly. Below, it was getting very warm, and at one point I noticed a lone grouse sitting in a patch of snow, probably cooling down! Further on, I spotted a couple of Stags (now bereft of their antlers, but growing their new adornment) wallowing in a hill pool at Invercauld.

I was travelling slightly more Westerly now, and not crabbing across the wind quite so much, which eased the passage to Braemar, my last port of call for refuelling before the big jump over the “empty quarter” down to Blair Atholl. Although that leg is only 45km, I was a little nervous of it, as a forced landing down there would certainly entail a walk of no small amount to the nearest hunting lodge or farm – there are only around two or three inhabited houses between the two settlements!

Back to the present though, and I came up Deeside really easily, and had time to assess my progress and declare to Emma via SMS that I’d meet her at Blair Atholl around 2pm, and not to come down with the car via Braemar, but to head West to Aviemore and go down the A9, which is a better road (though much busier, as it transpired, what with it being Good Friday, and a scorcher to boot!).

Landing out at my preferred field in Braemar (ie next to the petrol station) I chatted to Cath and Jim, the proprietors, and told them where I was off to (Jim was extolling the virtues of his petrol to an old gent from the village “There’s even fowk fae Huntly wha flee doon here tae buy it!”, he jibed!

No time for a chat today, alas, I was more and more focussed on the “Big Country” leg I was about to undertake. Hardly a breath of wind in Braemar now, glorious weather for flying, and the breath of wind was going to follow me all the way now!

I was soon up and away again, and past Mar Lodge laying to the North on my right, and I could see the hazy snow-patched Cairngorms further North and West. Soon I was travelling above a long hill spur, with Glen Ey far below me (1350 metres below!) – what a terrific day to be going! I had a few anxious moments before I spotted the very remote lodge at Fealar, one of the most remote settlements in Scotland, some 13 miles up Glen Fearnate, and roughly miday point between Mar and Atholl. A quick glance at the fuel tank revealed 6 litres plus still good, and I also now had approx 2 litres in my spare lap tetra can! Well, I thought I must be pretty well safe now, and instead of following straight over Glen Tilt, a bee-line narrow valley leading from the centre of the Grampians to Blair Atholl itself, I cut myself a little slack, and pottered over Loch loch (yes, that’s its name!) Ben y Ghlo and Carn liath, two of Atholl’s highest and most popular hills for the climbers. At this point I made a mental note to contact French Connection, the clothing co, to see whether they’d be interested in sponsoring me for branding my wing with the logo fcuk walking! I did feel a bit clever!

Soon I was over Loch Moraig on Lude estate, and decided it looked a good spot for a picnic with Emma when we were due to meet up. A detour North took me to within smapping distance of the impressive Blair Castle, and round I went into the more South Easterly influenced grass fields by the Atholl Garage. The one I’d landed in a month before was still empty of stock, and so I came down, in a more vertical descent, helped a little by judicious application of the speed bar, until within 30 or so feet of the ground. Easy! And Emma was just pulling into the garage forecourt with car and trailer! Picnic now beckoned!!

We returned up the track to the foot of Carn Liath, and set out our lunch on the rug, and enjoyed catching up with the morning for each of us. An hour’s siesta in a very warm Sun (she re-christened me the “Red Baron!” by the end of the day, as I was pretty firey-red about the face!), and I was getting keen to do the last leg of the trip.

I took time out to refill my Camelbak hydration bag, which I feel is a godsend for the sport, cooling one down when getting ready for take off, and always there when you feel a lttle thirsty; little and often certainly works for me, though one does find the call of nature coming more regularly also!

Soon, I was refuelled (from my Jerry can of 98 this time, only 95 available in Blair Atholl, unfortunately) and ready to go. The wind was gusting a bit more often now, but still within safe overall limits, and after a couple of fluffed reverses (again!), I put the wing up for a third time, put on the power, and got up without too much fuss and about two steps!

Up and over the Shierglas quarry, I felt the wind was starting to slow me a little, though not as much as had been the case in the morning, and I was soon over the hill back and overlooking 1km width of Loch Tummel some 1300 metres below. “Better get used to that”, I thought to myself, as my next planned trip (weather permitting) is over the watery narrows between the islands between Isaly and the mainland. More of that at a later date though!. I could easily see Schiehallion, the Fairy Mountain, which lays between Lochs Tummel and Rannoch – nearly there now! A quick look at the tank again, and I could see that I had over 5½ litres for the last 5km or so, so no worries! A celebration was required, so I held a more Southerly course, and toured the back of the hill some 250 metres above the summit, again waving to a few of the hilltop walkers. And easing right off the throttle slowly, and killing the motor for a couple of kms of serene, silent descent down to Kinloch Rannoch.

When I got to around 600m ASL, I touched the ignition button again, and coasted around the East end of Loch Rannoch and the outskirts of the village.
Below me was a dead grass field, some 150 metres from the guesthouse at Bunrannoch – perfect! A steady descent into a steady easterly headwind, and I was there! Packing up my gear and coming out of the field, I wandered up to Jen & Keith Skeaping’s door, met my hosts for the weekend, and was soon enconsed with a fantastic cup of tea and fresh home baking. Great!

Well, I had been very pleased with my flight, and Jen even offered to crack a bottle of champers to celebrate, which I (amazingly!) declined, preferring the tea and delicious sponge-cake on this occasion.

I have to say I was a bit proud that evening, but “Pride comes before a fall” as the idiom goes, and I shall relate said “Fall” later!!

Happy landings!

Pictures to follow Shortly!

Steve Wright
steve@mortlachsporting.co.uk

MOTOR: Vortex with Cors Air Motor
WING: Swing PowerPlay Sting 160