• Hamish M cKean beside his CessnQ 150 Anybody can fly a plane: most people can take off without much difficulty, and the only snag is that it's a bit more difficult to land again. But to help you overcome this obstacle, an increasing number of fiying dubs are opening up all over the country. To begin a fiying course leading to the Private Pilot's Licence, you must be over 17 years of age, reasonably fit, have good eyesight (though spectacles may be worn) and be reasonably intelligent. Combine all these with a genuine enthusiasm for flying and a will to learn, and the serious instruction can start. Firstly, you must 'log' at least 40 hours under the direction of a qualified flying instructor. During this period (which could be crammed into a month, or stretched over a year, depending on the time and finances you have available) lectures have to be attended on navigation, aviation law, aero engines, airframes, and meteorology. In this way, the trainee becomes properly equipped to pass the Civil Aviation Authority examinations for the PPL. The economics of taking to the air are less frightening than one would suppose. At £6.68 + VAT per flying hour, iar example, at the Three Counties Aero Club in Hants (including ground lectures) it is neither as difficult nor as expensive to reach your first solo flight as it might seem. Something between £70 and £90 should be enough to give you the doubtful privilege of going up on your own. Knobs and dials Perhaps I should point ou[ that fiying solo is not the ultimate aim; it simply means taking off, having a flip round the airfield, and landing after about ten minutes. But even this obviously cannOt be done without having thoroughly learned how to fly straight and level, to climb, descend, turn, stall, spin, take off, approach, and land. One of the most difficult things is learning to understand the maze of dials and levers called the instrument panel. That the strange-looking dial in front of you is really an artificial horizon, and the one next to it an airspeed indicator, to the right a mixture control lever, and so on for 40 different dials, knobs and controls. Checks are remembered by mnemonics. The code-word BUMPF stands for Brakes, which should be off, Undercarriage, which must be down, Mixture, which is set to fully ri ch, Propellor pitch fine, and Fuel tanks which should contain enough for an overshoot. At first, the aircraft's radio handmicrophone, one's contact with Air Traffic Control, is an instrument of embarrassment. You look at the letters G.AWPP on the panel in front of you and say into the handmike 'This is Golf Alpha Whiskey Papa Papa,' fully expecting the Air Traffic Controller to say 'So what?' Bm he does nOt; he is polite and helpful, and if you f<strong>org</strong>et the name of your plane, he gets it right. No room for both of us Recently I was flying from Glasgow to Prestwick. Dark rain clouds streamed westward off Goat Fell on the Isle of Arran. It was one of those evenings when, after rain and cloud had been blowing through the skies all day, nothing was left bm exhausted cumulous shapes and long acres of clear ai r lit by brilliant sunshine. All went well however, as I was cleared to land on Prestwick's long west-east runway. Reporting finals for runway 13, it was easy keeping the small Cessna ISO on course for landing. In the down-wind position on my second ci rcuit my two-way radio gave me some trouble, so I requested a change of radio Securi-Bore Roger Gibson d£scovers lhat a trip la Israel is 110l exactly a holiday. During October I was offered the somewhat dubious privilege of representing Blue Star Line at two Conference meetings being held at Tel Aviv, Israel, and as that part of the globe isn't visited too frequently by <strong>Gangway</strong> personnel, I thought I would make a few notes. Departure was scheduled for 1 pm on 7 October, and check-in procedure at Heathrow appeared normal until we were told that hold-baggage had to be retained for thorough examination after proceeding through a special Tel Aviv channel. All baggage having been checked, and the metal detector barrier safely negotiated, we proceeded to the gate where we were subjected to yet another search of handbaggage plus the now customary body search. I hoped for the usual 10 minutes or so wait in the departure lounge before boarding the aircraft; but after half an hour had elapsed, I began to wish I had visited the 'boys room'. Eventually an announcement was made apologising for the delay and explaining that unfortunately the flight was likely to be one hour late. A visit to the 'boys room' now became a must, so I sought permission for a temporary checkout. This sparked off an animated discussion amongst the security staff and I began to feel somewhat embarrassed at having caused such a stir, which was probably just as well, si nce I was eventually allowed to proceed provided I was escorted there and back. It is some time since I had to have such a service rendered! Aerial prayer meet At last we boarded the aircraft. Lunch was served, and shortly after that interlude I noticed a great deal of activity up and down the aircraft, apparently stemming from a group of four heavily bearded gentlemen attired in Homberg hats. It seems that they were endeavouring to muster a quorum of other gentlemen of the appropriate faith (only about three of us weren't anyway) in order to hold a communal prayer session. This duly took place amidships in the aisle, thus effectively putting a complete stop to any fore and aft transit. Ultimately we arrived at Ben-Gurion airport with a warning that passports should be at the ready in our hands and that we should not be observed delving into our hand-baggage for any reason whilst in the terminal building. In the minds of the majority this seemed [0 imply that we might be shot on sight if the warning was disregarded. Needless to say, we all meekly obeyed! The easiest method of travelling to one's hotel in a strange place is to fall straight into a taxi, but wishing to sa mple as many local mysteries as possible I elected for the bus to town. This mode of travel was obviously reserved for the local 'peasants' -I think I was the only passenger wearing a jacket and tie. Nevertheless, we arrived safely in town after half an hour's drive and I checked into the Hilton Hotel shortly before 9 pm, having been met by the doorman with loud greetings of 'Shalom 1 Shalom!' The following morning sa w the start of the \'\lestbound Conference meeting-a
CONT1NUE CUI.la AI 611 In .. - rAI
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