Final Flight of the Flyer

...well, for now anyway

The morning dawned very cold with the sports oval largely covered in frost. I had resurrected a pair of my abandoned cycling mitts to help keep my fingers warm. These had proved partially effective, although on mornings with temperatures hovering near freezing I had to call an end to the flying after ten minutes due to terminal finger ache. However on this particular day a spectacular pre-dawn colour show more than compensated for any discomfort.

I’d pretty much got flying the Floater down pat. Not perfect by any means but quite reasonable. The change of flight characteristics between powered & gliding flight was awkward although perhaps mostly because I had the aircraft trimmed for gliding or low-power flight which is my preference - seeing the Floater gliding past noiselessly in a low-level low-speed flypast is quite magical. And, when tempted, to open the throttle.

I had taken advantage of the sudden height gains to practice rudimentary aerobatics - loops being the, easiest although controlling the speed and tightness of the loop is more difficult. Fast tight loops look quite fake, and I much prefer a gentle swooping style. I had also managed a few wingovers, although again not the perfect type which verge on a stall at the apex.

Following a low flypast I throttled the Floater into a steep climb which peaked perhaps ten metres off the ground after which the Floater tilted its nose down. Deciding to maximise the situation, I pushed the Floater into an almost vertical dive and waited a second for speed to build up for a steep pull-out and a fast fly-by. The only problem was nothing happened. I released the elevator stick to neutral and tried again immediately. Still nothing. Resigned to the inevitable, I let go the controls and watched as the Floater thumped into the turf, did a cartwheel and then lay splayed on the ground.

Walking over to inspect the wreckage I was expecting it to be bad considering the speed and angle of the impact, and was not wrong. The canopy, very durable and flexible, had partially shattered, the much superglued nose was still held in place by the layers of tape but severely deformed with multiple fractures, and the tail boom had snapped through just behind the motor, held on only by the tail linkages.

Gently holding the wreckage of the Floater together I traced my steps across the frosty grass back to the car...

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...

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...