![]() ![]() Then they started overtaking us, all those “fast” aircraft: the Cherokee 140s first, then the Cessna 172s. Geneva turned out not to be Geneva, but finally we were back on track. The topocadastral 1 : 250 000 brought some surprises, on the map everything was blue, on the ground it was brownish-grey. ![]() Again we fought along at an average altitude of about 30 feet AGL. We weren’t the slowest aircraft in the race after all!Īt the fuel pumps we proudly signed the slip for 72 litres of Avgas, which compared favourably with the 45 litres OIL which Ret Orsmond (the boss) had used in the Bullthrush!ĭay two saw us taking off first. Brian crowned the confusion with an excellent landing! As we taxied in the homebuilt Condor UIM crossed the finish-line – and he had taken off just before us. For an experienced crop-sprayer usually flying turbine powered brutes it was indeed strange to change gears and approach high and close the throttle and change hands and regulate his descent with the spoilers and approach at 62 knots and pull the spoilers out a bit more after the wheels touched. ![]() On final there was again some confusion in the cockpit as I tried to get Brian to perform all sorts of tasks which he thought to be a bit silly. Dietlind Lempp (centre), ground crew Jeroen Heimink and a spectatorįinally, we gloriously crossed the finish-line, only about 12 minutes late. Once Brian went temporarily IF as I refolded my map, the Grob cockpit is not exactly designed to spread out three sheets of 1 : 250 000 charts. The latter they did and even had the cheek to wave to us, big deal when you fly a Cardinal! On this final leg to Bethlehem we struggled against a headwind, but it was good fun to observe the dassies dashing for cover (and a peasant woman walking on the fields as well). We also weren’t very happy about the comments of the spotters at Ermelo, which ranged from “Welcome, speedy” to “See you on the way home”. Vryheid to Ermelo was a different matter we had to climb some mountains, which at an indicated speed of somewhere between 70 and 80 knots was not exactly a great pleasure. We made use of ground effect and also had the benefit of quite a bit of convective lift from some of the fields, and by the time we got to Vryheid we were quite happy with our groundspeed. After having established that both wings and the tail plane were still where they were supposed to be, all was well again. I quickly released my harness (strapped in you can hardly scratch your right ear with your left hand) and turned around. The leg to Vryheid was quite uneventful, except for a big “thump” all of a sudden: a little bird seemed to have committed suicide somewhere. No ADF or VOR, no gyro, no DI in this aircraft our maps were the only thing to rely on. This being my first introduction to crop spraying type operations I nervously called out every power-line, telephone wire or tree I saw looming up ahead of us, but Brian seemed to be quite used to this type of thing and I soon settled down with my maps. I won, and soon we were happily cruising along a couple of feet above the grass. ![]() Shortly afterwards we had a small fight in the cockpit: wanted to get the prop into coarse pitch (airspeed 65 knots, rpm 2300, pull pitch control once) and Brian did not want to slow down to perform this silly “gear-change”. Brian got the quickestconversion in history this was probably also the first time in the history of the race where the pilot was pattered through the take-off. 1980 SP Air Race – Bethlehem Airfield: Bethlehem Airfieldīethlehem AirfieldAnyway, after we had put our beautiful little motor glider with the long white wings on (Brian reckoned you don’t strap yourself in, this one you put on) we taxied out to the starting point, right through the dust of 72 other aircraft, who had taken off before us. The Handicapping Committee, usually called “the people who everybody loves to hate”, didn’t really know what to do with us and had given us a handicap of 104 knots, which made us the slowest aircraft in the race and was still quite a few knots faster than we ever hoped to be. The Grob was the boss’ newest toy, one of only a few in the country, and the same boss had, on the evening before the race, ordered Brian and myself to enter. Aircraft: Motor Glider Grob G109B ZS-VAB Pilot: Brian Arton, hours on type: nil Navigator: Dietlind Lempp, hours on type: 15. Our official entry form for the State President’s Trophy Air Race 1984 looked a little bit strange, to say the least.
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