Tree Climbing with the Clouds Flyer

Skywards on a Crisp Autumn Morning

Months had passed with the Floater Jet languishing on the desk in the study, its slightly bent, super-glued nosecone giving it a rather sad and neglected air.

Following consecutive crashes with the elegant Phoenix 2000, I'd rather lost the nerve to fly it. And now having crashed the trainer as well I was struggling with what best to do next.

As ever, it the web that provided an answer. Or, in this case, provided confirmation of a conclusion I had gradually formed regarding both the Floater and the Phoenix. Despite the  Floater being a basic trainer, I realised it possessed a quite different characteristic to the Phoenix. Diametrically opposite, in fact.

The Phoenix  was possessed of the alarming characteristic of heading for the clouds under power. The Floater however, due to the moment created by its high-mounted engine, had the opposite characteristic of pitching down under power. Especially at launch when the wings were yet to generate sufficient lift to counteract it. The secret, it turns out, was to launch with moderate power until the Floater was, well, flying!

So it was that, one crisp autumn morning, I found myself with Flyer in-hand nervously contemplating a large field surrounded by bushland. It was one of those moments where nerves dominate and one cannot really prepare. So, with battery connected and radio on, I lobbed the Floater into the chilled morning air.

Success! No crunching nose-dive to the ground! No disassembling wings! No ejected canopy! Instead the Floater just glided off, a little wobbly at first, on its first real flight. Gaining confidence, I gave it near full throttle to climb, then backed off for a peaceful glide.

It turned out to be not quite as peaceful as I'd anticipated; the Floater floated off towards a nearby rise, apparently oblivious to the control inputs. Perhaps the distance was confusing - had I lost the aircraft's orientation? However it was nonetheless evident that I'd lost control. Deciding not to risk exacerbating the situation with random inputs, I abandoned the controls and headed off across the field as I watched the Floater descended in lazy circles towards the hilltop.

Now for me this was a novel situation. At seven thirty in the morning, well before the sun had bothered the  horizon, I found myself heading across a dewy field, negotiating barbed wire fences, marshy flats and tousled grassy slopes. This was certainly a more entertaining start to the day than usual.

As I approached the crest of the hill I looked around for signs of my craft. Having walked a few hundred metres and out of sight of the launch point, I wasn't too sure where the Floater might be. However, giving the throttle lever a prod, I was immediately rewarded by a buzz a little way off to my left - the Floater was alive!

Encouraged by this happy turn of events I headed off at pace. As I neared I buzzed the throttle again, but now my attention was unexpectedly drawn upwards. The stark silhouette of a smallish tree revealed the Floater, perched several metres up in a small tree. 

Now I must admit it has been a long time since I climbed a tree. However, undeterred by lack of practice and less so by the fact I was dressed for work, I clambered up. Fortunately the low-branching nature of the tree was most accommodating and I was soon able to free the Floater from the branches and drop it to ground.

A few minutes later, feeling buoyed by a sense of achievement, I headed down the hill with plane in hand.

Approaching Understanding

Things mayn't be quite as they seem

Having reconstructed the Floater Jet, including previously unused wing rod, I was keen to have it in the air again. However, considering the consistent string of failure characterising my previous efforts, I was determined to make it a solo expedition with the Flyer.

So it was that, early one Sunday morning, I drove to a nearby sports complex boasting expansive fields across which I could explore the Floater's capabilities at leisure. The cool morning air with just a hint of low mist offered optimal conditions for model flying.

Being cautious of my dismal track record, I launched the craft with only moderate throttle and a fairly gentle throw. The overall underwhelming effort paid off instantly with the craft immediately gliding downwards to a bumpy landing, with me quickly cutting the power when the abortive nature of the launch had become apparent. Now, more nervous than ever, yet still determined, I reset the Floater for launch. More power, harder throw...

Within half a second the Floater had pitched nose first to the ground, executed a half-ground loop and come to a halt with the nose cone flung to one side, rudely exposing the  internal wiring of the craft. Oh no, not again..!

This time I had managed to crash quicker than ever before, even considering that I 'd remembered to install the carbon rod...

Returning home I glued the nose back into place rather rudely, and with finesse sorely lacking...

Learning, but not about Flying

...a notable omission

The lingering trauma following the major disaster with the Phoenix 2000 lead me to reconsider taking it to the air again in the short term. While comments I'd read suggested a larger aircraft was easier to learn with, other comments backed by my experience with the Phoenix, indicating it wasn't really a beginners' glider. Having a nylon fuselage made it a bit heavier and thus slower to respond. I therefore began a review of alternative "beginners" gliders for something more suitable.

Two candidates made themselves conspicuous, both sporting an over-wing motor configuration. The one I chose was purported to be a "floater", the Clouds Flyer or Floater Jet as it's also known. This was a smaller span of 1.3m with a broad wing chord and light all-foam construction. Apparently just what the doctor ordered...

However the first flight was, as you may now imagine, a bit of a fiasco.

Now let me explain that the wings of the Floater join through the top of the fuselage with a novel jigsaw joint, made possible by the tough and flexible characteristics of EPO foam (an expanded plastic). However, due to delays in assembly from to waiting for servos and a receiver to arrive, a key item ended up being omitted from the construction...

The launch went OK. On about one-third power and with a slightly upward trajectory, and the Floater flew surprising quickly across the field. Heading now towards the pavilion I pulled back on the elevator to get a bit more height and hit the ailerons to the left. Going into the turn, the wings suddenly bent upwards surprisingly. I hadn't expected them to be that flexible, a bit like an ASW-20 on a cable launch.

When the wings reached about an 80 degrees angle I was fairly sure that something was wrong. Quickly cutting power, the Floater fluttered earthwards following a gentle arc before clattering into the boundary fence. The crumpled heap looked like devastation, however, closer inspection showed very little damage apart from a few minor dents in the wing where it had contacted the fence, a testament to the robust nature of the EPO construction.

So my flying capability seems to have changed little, all too brief followed by violence...

In this particular case, the omission of the carbon fibre reinforcing rod between the Floater's wings appeared to have contributed to the failure of the flight...

A Profound Sadness

...collateral damage by stupidity

Having returned home, I was overcome by a profound sadness at having inflicted such wanton damage to such a lovely aircraft. It was like a nice pet being given to a bad home, and I was the culprit. Oh dear.

It may seem silly but I really felt gutted by the sequence of events; the effort I'd made, aspirations thwarted and damaged caused for no gain. A sorry waste for no benefit at all.

I pondered the situation and decided on two things. Firstly, as damaged as the Phoenix was it was still repairable to a flying state. Secondly, I would get a smaller and more novice-friendly aircraft.

For the Phoenix it was spares-shopping and improvisation. The nylon fuselage was up-ended in a jug of boiling water and left overnight, in the hope that relief of residual stresses would help to straighten up the wrinkles.

The original kit had included a fixed spinner, if no motor were to be used. This I modified to adapt to the spinner-base and to clear the propellor mounts. The battery tray, which had shattered most impressively, I tried to reconstitute after the fashion of a jigsaw-puzzle but then abandoned as folly, fabricating another out of modelling ply.

The wings mounts I superglued together and reinforced with fibreglass mesh. Ailerons were remounted, using hinges to replaced the ruptured EPO hinge and, as a bonus, I "activated" the moulded-in flaps giving them the same hinge treatment as the ailerons  and installing servos in the ready-moulded wing recesses. A new battery to replace the compacted original 1800mAh completed the repair process.

Now all I needed was the skill to fly the recreated Phoenix...

Same Again, Unfortunately

...not really having learned from the first time

Having repaired the glider (which had a wing mount cracked) and given some consideration to the events of the previous morning, I headed out again with the Phoenix 2000. Following the less-than-successful second flight, expectations for an early crash were high amongst the observers.

The field this time was larger - three fields end-to-end although shared with walkers and kids at one end and an informal soccer at the other. A little nervous. No, make that very nervous. And uncertain. Here goes.

The launch this time is fine, gliding across the field and a making a turn to the right. Coming back the glider dips in the turn so I push up the throttle, but too much. The  Phoenix turns its spinner to the heavens in a now-familiar manner, and I panic, cutting the throttle I wait for the nose to come down...

Now, having learned from the previous morning's exercise, I know not to leave the glider to drop on its own as I know it won't have time to recover. So now, as the nose dips, I add power with the expectation that the airspeed will increase rapidly and the big propellor will whisk the Phoenix into a climb; all will be well.

Except unfortunately not. It's a repeat of the previous day's crash, except faster and much more destructive. The spinner was smashed, the front of the nylon moulded fuselage reduced to a crumple zone. Both wings were also broken at the mountings, and incredibly the ailerons had snapped their moulded hinges, hanging limply from the control arms.

Looking around I saw that the canopy, jettisoned by the battery as it ejected from the cockpit, lying on the grass a few metres away. To complete the scenario the battery had been concertined in and was now about a third shorter than its original state.

Making light of the event, I picked up the Phoenix, collected the debris and headed back to the car...

Untoward Characteristics

...a most alarming propensity to climb

The modest success of the initial flight of the Phoenix 2000 was followed by a brief flight, ending sadly in an abrupt near-vertical collision with the sports oval. Why? Well, it turns out the Phoenix, with its conventional propellor-in-front layout has a very (and I mean very) high climb rate when the power exceeds a modest threshold. With the first flight having followed a very flat circuit of the field, I had thought a little more power would provide a more comfortably elevated flight path. Wrong.

With more than a whiff of throttle, the Phoenix rises like a veritable Saturn rocket. On video clips this seems behaviour seems most impressive however, for a novice's second flight, having a large aircraft suddenly head for the heavens is absolutely alarming. One doesn't know exactly what will happen - will it suddenly stall and crash onto the lady with the maltese poodle, or will it suffer incipient spin and veer off into the clubhouse?

Without an answer to either of these questions, the safest option is to cut power. Unfortunately, the response from the moderately-heavy Phoenix to a sudden loss of power is ugly. A sudden stall followed by an inelegant descent nose-first into the turf. Not cool...

The Problem with Simulators

...I sought knowledge on the path of virtual learning

My theory was that a simulator package would give me the opportunity to learn to fly whenever I wanted. For those not familiar, an RC simulator consists of PC software along with a radio (in my case I bought the package deal). You simply install the software on your computer, plug your RC radio to your computer with the buddy lead supplied and start flying.

It is a lovely thing - a choice of airfields and a long list of aircraft to fly, equalling hours of entertainment for RC fans and aircraft nuts generally. Having only two powered gliders, my choice of vehicle, seemed a trifling detail as I set about familiarising myself with the radio unit and the characteristics of the aircraft I flew.

Being a pilot of sorts, in a previous era, I was reasonable confident of a smooth transition to RC as I knew how to fly. True. Except that what I had learned to fly had weighed several hundred kilograms, and had very large wings. And no engines. The significance of this obvious difference, however, is not immediately apparent when flying non-representative aircraft on a computer, despite the entertainment undoubted value of these wonderful devices.

The downfall, as I discovered more than once, is the individual characteristics of the model aircraft themselves. These characteristics represent themselves most prominently during transitions, notably launch (as you throw the gliders to get them airborne) and acceleration (being powered by electric motors). The achilles heal of the Phoenix 2000 for novice fliers is during acceleration and, in the case of the Floater Jet, the notorious dip on launch...

Learning to Fly

The first flight was ok, the large glider launching with a whistling whirr of its large folding propellor and gliding across the oval.

The Phoenix 2000 is my first radio control plane, a beautiful two metre glider with a slender nylon fuselage and expanded polymer wings, commonly referred to as EPO. 

Being a maiden flight, both for the  Phoenix and the pilot, I was extremely nervous so enjoying the moment was difficult. With total concentration I guided the glider round the field and made a turn to bring it back. It was percentage flying to be sure - no bravado like on the simulator, just dedication to giving the craft some air and hopefully bringing it to ground to live another day.

The flight sparked the interest of a magpie who peeled away from his friends flying across the field and briefly flew formation as he inspected this curious companion.  However, with my courage already waning, I kept the  Phoenix in a wide turn bringing it past the clubhouse and turning on finals back to me.

The long slim wings, their size accentuated by the proximity to the ground, slowly descended towards the turf and finally clipped the grass in a brief staccato to bring the first flight to an end.

With a thumping heart I retrieved the glider, removed the canopy and disconnected the battery. Then I heaved a sigh of relief, finally able to enjoy the moment...

Zen



A meditative state



Absorbed in the present

Mindful awareness