The Death of a Phoenix

This morning I totalled my glider. Very annoying.

In the wake of my transmitter issues I hadn't flown for the best part of a week. But, with having the DX6i figured and the windy weather abating, the planets seemed to have aligned in the favour of flying. Sort of. As before, a break from flying didn't make the heart grow fonder. Only a bit nervous and a little uncertain. Not exactly ultimate zen.

Nevertheless, with a cool still morning, conditions were excellent with the sun just rising and the flying field deserted as usual. I attached the wing camera onto the Phoenix, my plans for a sophisticated aero housing scuttled when I discovered people used velcro to attach the miniature device. So, after a quick control check, I lobbed the plane into the air.

Now, I have elaborated before about the importance of a properly trimmed craft. As I recall, on the morning I forgot to check the direction of control movement. Yes, we really have covered all bases here. Well, I thought everything was even and good to go, but for some reason the Phoenix was making big left-hand banks. I'm not sure about other people but I find this very alarming.

You have to hold right aileron and rudder over just to keep it fly straight. I find that alarming. My attempts to keep trim on the go being less than effective, I turned the Phoenix in for a landing. Then decided I could keep going. Then flew into a tree. Yes, the same tree. Thanks for asking.

In the air again the Phoenix was now at least flying fairly straight, although I got the feeling that it still wasn't quite happy. Nevertheless, with it going into a climb I gave it full power then rolled over for a gentle loop and turned back towards the field. Now this is actually the first time I've flown in the morning with the sun above the horizon. As it happened, the Phoenix swooping, turning dive out of the loop put it straight into the sun.

I tried to turn it more but I wasn't really sure what it was doing in the glare, but I did know it was coming down quick. A split-second later the Phoenix cartwheeled at speed into the duck-pond, shedding wings and canopy, leaving a trail of flotsam and a submerged receiver beeping a sad alarm...