At a recent work trip to Brest, I was discussing the drift/steerage angles due to tidal stream and currents. I related it to flying and it transpired the operator of the software was also an aviator! (Be it of the inferior fixed wing variety). We didn’t get much time if any, to discuss flying any further but I knew she flew vintage airplanes and we had arranged a few weeks later for me to attend one of the vintage fly-ins at Oaksey park.
It sounded like a fantastic opportunity to combine a visit to a new airfield, which came highly recommended by the GA community, with seeing some vintage aeroplanes and to take the helicopter away for the night somewhere new and exciting.
The fly in was a Saturday, just to the south east of Kemble at Oaksey Park. A renowned GA strip ran by the Austen family and it was the first time I’d planned to visit. Leaving Gloucester from heli south in the R22, the SkyDemon immediately packed up and it was back to old school map reading for the laughable 12 minute flight.
A quick change to Kemble frequency for courtesy as I’d be passing through their runway centreline before a swift frequency change and turning onto the downwind leg for Oaksey. Passing by two Ferrari red Enstroms and an electric blue Jet Ranger, I hover taxied last the club house to the waiting marshaller.
Alas! There were no vintage planes at all! At least not yet.. I had been given a very strategic place to land in the centre of a very large space off to the side of the main runway behind the tree line. I assumed this was to keep me separate from the fixed wing bruisers.. and I was partly correct.
Shortly after, the first Luscombe arrived, followed in quick succession by a further 6! My poor heli was sat looking awfully lonely as they all parked next to each other wingtip to wingtip in their majestic colour scheme. Regardless of my unabashed gate crashing it was time for a picnic!
The weather was blissful and the temperature just so. Sat outside the clubhouse with a lovely view of the arriving aeroplanes I caught up with the colleague I’d met in Brest and her friend Nigel and ex-airliner Pilot and owner of one of the Luscombe’s. He was a really character with some fascinating stories, which he told whilst I was munching on miniature sausage rolls to my hearts content.
He told of his first long haul night flights as a newbie first officer. Flying all night through thunderstorms to Bonn cologne, with a captain who fell asleep smoking his pipe. It was a wicked story and he told it with such passion it had me creasing.
They sauntered off shortly after to check out their overnight accommodation so I took the liberty of going to see the Red Enstroms I’d seen on the way in. They were lovely machines, but he evidently been there a while as the grass had been cut around them, with one all disassembled inside. It was a sad sight.
The afternoon was drawing on and I was conscious I had an overnight stop to get to, deep into Hereford. I called the owner of the AirBnB before I climbed back into Sierra Hotel and fired her up. Much to the distaste of the fixed wing bug smashers. Whilst utterly disturbing any peace that there once was, I came into the hover and did a pirouette to show them what they were missing before departing for Wales.
It was a beautiful flight, lots of traffic, mainly gliders but a spitfire passed above me by 400ft before I reached the Severn estuary and continued onwards to the Brecons. The evening stay was a beautiful hut at the Cefn Farm, clearly visible nestled away at the top of the field as I approached it from the south.
It wasn’t until I approached, I realised just how sloping the landing site was. I tucked the Robbie up into the corner as gas as I could. Landing twice to test for flatter ground. I’m shutting down I was still at odds to if it will slide down the hill. Too late now! I was out and heading into the hut. If there was any dew on the ground in the morning there was a good chance Sierra Hotel would be down at the bottom of the slope!
The hut wasn’t much to look at from the outside, but inside it was stunning. With a kitchen, shower and toilet, log burner and double bed. It boasted stunning panoramic views of the welsh mountains and was so peaceful. I had dinner at the local Boat Inn, surrounded by local kayakers and canoeists who were arriving and pulling their kayaks and canoes from the water.
After an incredible lamb shank dinner, it was importable to find a taxi in such a remote area. So.. i bought a beer from the small petrol station and started the hour and fifteen minute walk back to the hut up some incredibly steep roads! After regretting the decision on multiple occasions and being scared half to death by a sheep, i arrived back at the hut to enjoy the beer with the view of the helicopter and the rolling countryside.
Hourbuilding Adventures 