My
First Channel Crossing
- by
Paul Mahony
“Wingspan
2003”
was an event put together to facilitate any microlight / FLPA wishing
to cross the English Channel to celebrate the 100th anniversary of powered
flight. Take-off was to be from Headcorn airfield in Kent at 1500 on
Saturday 23 August 2003 with the designated landing airfield being Abbeville
in France, a distance of some 92 nautical miles. The organisers, Mike
Hurn and Chris Hasell (who deserve a special
mention for all the behind-the-scenes sorting that these events invariably
require) also hoped to set a world record for the largest peacetime
aerial crossing of the English Channel. I particularly wanted to do
it as a personal challenge and also because a paramotoring friend, Richard
Meredith-Hardy, had paved the way a couple of years ago on a paramotor
and no-one else had done it since.
Until a
few days before the date, I hadn’t believed that the event would
ever happen. However, I was assured by last minute e-mails from Chris
that indeed it was and I had better get myself over from Munich (where
I am presently living and working) and have a go! So, with very little
prior preparation, I caught a late flight on Friday night to Stansted,
hired a car and drove to my sister’s house in London where I had
left my paramotor a few weeks earlier. I had a “Last Supper“
and woke early the next day hoping to purchase a life-jacket. I found
a large sailing shop underneath Charing Cross railway bridge and purchased
a life-jacket and waterproof bag. Still sceptical about doing the trip,
I headed off for Headcorn just to see what was going on with the view
that if I didn’t like the “vibes“ there, I wouldn’t
go.
Headcorn
is about 22 miles from Dover and it was about 11:30 when I arrived to
see about 80 microlights and pilots immersed in a hive of activity and
nervous excitement. Pilots were checking and re-checking aircraft and
equipment whilst their co-pilots were poring over maps, GPS’s
and filing flight plans. I walked into the Control Room at Headcorn
and found Jamie, the air traffic controller: “Hello,
my name’s Paul Mahony and I’m looking for all the other
paramotorists who are going to fly the Channel.“
Jamie looked
at me with a funny smile and a vague look. He replied that there were
no paramotorists at Headcorn but he had heard of a couple of others
who had departed earlier in a car bound for Dover. I searched his pile
of filed flightplans hoping to glean a contact number so that I could
ring these guys up and find out where they intended to take off from.
Surprisingly, I found no such flight plan. I also asked Mike Hurn about
safety boats. He smiled and replied,
“Well, there are no official safety boats but there are bound
to be loads of other boats in the Channel who, little do they know,
are all going to act as unsuspecting safety boats!“
'Mmmm'.
Things didn’t sound good! I went away in private to give myself
a good talking to reasoning that people like Lilienthal, Wilbur and
Orville et al, had no safety parachutes when they pioneered aviation
and Bleriot probably had no safety boat either when he flew the Channel
all those years ago. I also knew that if I didn’t fly the Channel,
I would always regret it in the months ahead. Plus I had a reputation
amongst my young nephews as being a bit of a nutter to uphold!! That
clinched it; I returned to Jamie and filed my flight plan and Customs
declaration. Being an unregistered aircraft, my registration number
went in as ZZZZ but I gave a comprehensive description of my “aircraft“:
blue wing, silvery coloured paramotor with black propeller blades and
the pilot wearing a dark blue flying suit!
Blue wing, silvery coloured paramotor
with black propeller blades
I knew
that I would have to do the journey in stages due to my maximum fuel
capacity of 10 litres. This, of course, is not in keeping with the flight
plan which stated: Take-off Airfield: Headcorn, England; Landing Airfield:
Le Touquet, France. Still, when you have an in-flight emergency (i.e.
no fuel) you have to deal with it! I wore a pair of shorts and a T shirt
under my flying suit and trainers on my feet, just in case I had to
ditch. Inside my waterproof bag I placed my airband radio tuned to Headcorn’s
frequency, an old 35mm compact camera, GPS, mobile ‘phone, money
and my passport. In the pocket of my harness, I carried 1 litre of fully
synthetic 2-stroke oil. I decided against wearing a helmet (which I
later regretted), instead, just relying on my Lynx headset for noise
attenuation and comms. My wing was a Fresh Breeze Silex (M) and the
paramotor was my trusty Bailey D320, both of which I had now owned for
4+ years. The paramotor had done more than 500 totally trouble-free
hours with not even a change of sparkplugs! I had competed in the 2001
UK Nationals and World Air Games with it, gone on one of Colonel Basir’s
flying circus trips to Malaysia and flown between the tallest buildings
on Earth, the twin Petronas Towers in Kuala Lumpur. Surely a little
21 mile Channel crossing was well within its capabilities!
I
‘phoned my wife, Angie, to tell her that I was just nipping across
to France for some Duty Frees and did she want anything! Her reply was
to ask me where the life insurance documents were kept at home. The
wind was a favourable north-westerly at 5 knots. Jamie at Headcorn gave
me clearance to depart from a small corner away from all other traffic
whereupon I climbed, did a right 180° turn and vacated the circuit
at 500 feet. I activated my flight plan at 14:00 and looked down to
see all the other microlights doing their final preparations and getting
ready for their mass departure time of 15:00. I flew down to Folkestone
at 1900 feet amsl and then East along the coast to Dover, passing over
the famous Battle of Britain memorial at Capel Le Ferne.
Battle of Britain memorial at Capel Le
Ferne
The journey
down to Dover was uneventful except that my head was getting quite cold
due to the air being dragged past it by the prop. This was in large
part due to the fact that I am quite follicly challenged - OK then,
bald! Right, I must remember to buy a baseball cap at Dover! The journey
took about 70 minutes and I had about 4 litres of fuel remaining from
the 10 litres I had started with. Skirting around the edge of Dover,
I spotted a Tesco Superstore on the north west edge of the town with
a school next to it. I landed in the school’s playing field, removed
my fuel tank, scaled the school fence and crossed into the filling station
to refuel - in my flying suit and life jacket - much to the amusement
of the other motorists!
After
taking off again, I headed for the port area and crossed the English
coast at 15:40 which I radioed to Headcorn as per their instructions.
There was a slight on-shore sea breeze but with about half speedbar,
I was making about 25 mph groundspeed. A cross-channel ferry was leaving
Dover and a few people were waving to me from the decks. God only knows
what they were thinking! Their courseline took them South Eastwards
towards Calais, whilst mine was more Southerly towards Cap Griz Nez
which is the nearest point of France to England. I took a few pictures
and mentally rehearsed the procedures I would adopt if I had to ditch.
However, with my motor purring at a relaxed cruise-climb rpm, there
were no indications that I would have to put them into practice. I was
amazed at how few boats there were in the “busiest sea lanes in
the World“. I saw half a dozen big tankers, but only about 7 or
8 small craft within gliding distance of me during the 40 minute crossing.
So much for all those unsuspecting safety boats I had been briefed about!
I climbed to about 3000 feet amsl and enjoyed the view. The weather
was perfect and the influence of the sea breeze had now decayed so that
I was enjoying the west-north-westerly meteo wind. My groundspeed had
crept up to 34 mph.
I radioed
Headcorn again at the halfway point and did a slow orbit to take a picture
of the famous white cliffs of Dover from 10 miles out - not forgetting
to get the obligatory shoes in the bottom of the frame just in case
no-one believed me! It’s funny that when you are all alone in
the middle of the Channel and you know that in the event of an engine
failure, you can’t glide to either coast, you just sort of accept
it. I found that my initial nervousness had given way to a more calm
persona coupled with the odd “I can’t believe I’m
bloody well doing this“ muttered under my breath. If someone had
told me to fly 20 miles across land I wouldn’t have thought twice
but it’s amazing how 20 miles across water focusses the mind and
makes the journey psychologically different! A chill developing in my
head brought me back to reality as in my haste to get airborne from
Dover, I had forgotten to purchase a hat and my head was now getting
very cold. The rest of the journey was very relaxed over a calm sea
and with an increasing tail wind. The film in my camera ran out just
over halfway across as it had only been a 12 exposure one that I had
hastily found at the bottom of a drawer at home. What’s that saying
about Prior Preparation Prevents P*ss Poor Performance……?!
I crossed the French coast at 16:20 and radioed Headcorn once more.
Because I had cruise descended to about 1200 feet, my radio call went
unheard so I asked any other microlight listening-in to relay the message
for me. This was done. Yet another chap in a microlight, had heard my
radio call and informed me that he was approaching Cap Griz Nez on his
way back to England and could he take a few photos! We orbited around
each other for the album snaps after which I continued down the coast
to Boulogne. Well, I had done it - flown the English Channel on a piece
of cloth and a smelly old 2-stroke! A great sense of achievement washed
over me and I found myself giggling like a demented schoolboy at my
good fortune and luck. I cruised along the coast at about 1000 feet
amsl to keep well below Lille’s airspace and on approaching Boulogne,
I decided to take another fuel stop.
I circled
Boulogne’s huge beach packed with holiday makers and picked a
quietish spot. By the time I had landed though, a fair old crowd had
run over to me with kids shouting “Bonjour Monsieur“ and
some other stuff followed by hoots of laughter. I’ll leave it
to your imagination! Then, two lifeguards appeared in a 4x4 and gesticulated
that paramotoring on the beach of Boulogne was forbidden. After I indicated
that “Je suis Anglais“ and “je parlez non Francais“
their attitude softened slightly. Then I explained in best my pigeon
French that I had just flown across the English Channel (being careful
to emphasise whose Channel it was) and that I now had “non essence
left in my fuel tank!“ Their look was incredulous! “Sacre
Bleu! You are a crazy Eenglish man!“ By now, I had them eating
out of the palm of my hand and they were very helpful in assisting my
refuelling and take off preparations. By now, the wind was coming up
along the coast from the south-west and I didn‘t really fancy
a very slow into-wind trip to Le Touquet. I radioed Lille ATC to explain
that due to ‘problems‘ I was unable to make Le Touquet but
was heading instead for Calais. They were happy with this and closed
my flightplan. I asked about the Customs situation whereupon the guy
at Lille, in typically Gallic fashion, asked me to swear to him that
I wasn’t carrying any contraband. This I did and he wished me
a pleasant onward journey! Vive le France!! Back in the air once again,
I circled my French spectators and waved them “au revoir“.
The next
leg was an easy XC NE to Calais where I looked around the outskirts
for a suitable landing field. I found one next to a Formel-1 motel,
landed and crossed the road to the motel only to find no room in the
inn. Next, I rang for a taxi and asked the driver to find me a cheap
hotel. He took me to a seedy little pub in downtown Calais which had
‘rooms‘ available by the hour! I explained to the owner
that I only wanted a room to store my machine and wouldn’t be
needing a shower or breakfast. A deal was struck and I stowed my paramotor
and wing. Then it was down to le Port to catch a ferry back to Blighty,
a quick train ride back to Headcorn to retrieve my hire car and then
back to my sister’s house in London. Wow, what a day!! The next
day, I collected my own car from my sister’s (who had borrowed
it for a holiday) and drove back to Calais (via the Chunnel) to retrieve
my equipment. Then, a long drive back to Munich!
As aviation
milestones go, this was nothing huge but for me, it was something I’ll
never forget. I flew the Channel both for a personal challenge and in
my own small way, to say thanks to Wilbur and Orville for making it
all possible 100 years ago.
With regards to the “Wingsapan 2003” event, I was proud
to have “been there” and have since learnt that only two
other paramotorists flew the Channel that day - Richard Maher
and his friend. They took off from Waldershare Gliding Club
just outside Dover at 13:50 and crossed the French coast 40 minutes
later before making for Abbeville.
I
would especially like to congratulate 54 year old Miles Hilton-Barber
who is registered totally blind and flew his microlight (assisted by
his passenger co-pilot) across the Channel to France. Well done Miles,
Richard (and friend) and to all the other aviators who took part!
