COMBAT AND COMPETITION.pdf - Lakes Gliding Club

COMBAT AND COMPETITION
aileron. Such an aileron had to be right. And this one was not. Elliotts
had built in too much camber, the solid balsa wood Frise nose was too
large, and there was no mass balance. Harry had an uncomfortable first
flight, casting off tow at 400 feet. The ailerons oscillated violently at
the slightest suggestion of turbulence requiring both hands on the
stick!
By the end of the first weekend Twin wood Farm was littered with
balsa shavings, and the cut back Frise balances on each aileron had
been covered with almost 7 Ibs of sheet lead apiece. It was hardly an
ideal solution but at least we had a flyable aircraft. More important the
wing tip extensions had reduced the stalling speed by 3-4 knots and
the low speed performance seemed much improved.
The 402 was returned to Newbury so that our hasty modifications
could be tidied up. It was back with us the following weekend for its
special category C of A flight tests - fortunately the weather was kind
- and we were able to clear it in time.
The lateral control at low speeds and the rate of roll were better
than the original aircraft - and at least 25% superior to the Skylark III.
The stall if anything was more docile. Only in a sideslip or spin was
the effect of the increased span, with unchanged tail surfaces,
apparent - in the form of mild tail buffeting and rudder locking - but
this was no problem. It was certainly much less marked than on a
Weihe.
The ailerons were still in interim form with excessive camber and
upfloat which could only be corrected by rebuilding them completely.
So Vne was set at an equally interim 90 knots.
Anne and Harry crewed for me on the 402's first outing and the
opening day was anticyclonic, with a wind just east of north. Met gave
us the choice of better thermals to the east or waves to the west. But
the organisers set distance southwards along a line through Shobdon
airfield, near Hereford, so that was that. I crept away in weak
thermals, never higher than 1500 feet above the Mynd, and it was
certainly easier to hang on with the 402 under these conditions.
Approaching the Black Mountains, under a totally cloudless sky,
I hit wave. No mistaking the glassy smoothness and the uncanny climb.
A quick 180° into wind brought the sun behind me and there was the
red and white of another sailplane a mile or so away. It happens so
often, you set course and lose sight of each other, perhaps for hours,
and then meet up again at a turning point, on the final glide, or almost
anywhere en route. Like this wave, in which Philip Wills and I had
176