………..Crazy or Not, I'm Doing It! I knew I was about to die! I was rushing at the ground at sixty miles per hour, and I had made a big mistake! I closed my eyes to avoid seeing the thing that was about to kill me, and waited for my life to flash by. It didn't. There was just a slow motion sequence with sounds and feelings that I can still 'picture' today, as light metal hit the ground, bent, tore, screamed, bounced, gouged and snapped. The sequence repeated itself twice more. Then .............

........an eerie silence. Was I dead? Could I open my eyes, or was Heaven a dark place? (assuming I had not penetrated the Underworld to arrive swiftly at the "Other Place"). I felt nothing. No pain. I must be dead.

I had hoped for a much longer stay on this changing Earth, and I should have know better than to take up this crazy pastime! I hit the ground hard. Far too hard to survive. Perhaps passing into the Next World was a painless and swift as we are all led to believe. Eventually I dared to open my eyes and I realised I was still on this Earth, and the realisation was quickly followed by the thought that if I didn't get out of the wreckage quickly then my stay here may still be drastically shortened................

............I used to wear several layers of clothing because I liked to fly high. Usually if I got above three thousand feet in the winter or six thousand feet in the summer I could get above the turbulence that threw these little machines about. Above what is known as the inversion layer, the air would be silky smooth, and one could let the machine fly itself with very little control input required. The downside to this was that the air was very much colder and the cold soon made flying unpleasant if one was not well insulated. So with my layers of clothing, inner and outer gloves and insulated boots I was prepared for the cold aloft. If I found it was too warm I could simply open the zips to allow a cooling breeze to force its way around the suit. With the Chaser I had to start the engine whilst still outside the machine. A vital check was to make sure that the throttle was set in the idle position. I had seen someone being dragged along after starting the machine with the throttle advanced. He was lucky not to fall into the path of the propeller.Starting technique involved making sure no one was too close, checking the throttle, switching on the ignition, shouting "Clear Prop', and pulling on the recoil starter (just like on many outboard motors or lawn mowers). Once the engine was running evenly I would quickly hop in, secure the lap seatbelt, attach the mapboard, and carry out essential control movements to ensure that nothing was caught up. I was ready to go...................

..............When I turned onto the new heading, something did not feel right. I was worried about blundering into the often active RAF airfield at Marham. It is permissible (but not advisable) to stray into the airspace near to an active military airfield.

However, even at weekends, when the RAF seem to all go home, it is still wiser to keep away from the 'Big Boys Playing Areas'. With this thought in mind, and the feeling that the wind direction must have changed, I decided to head slightly more south, just to be on the safe side. Going too far south would also be a mistake, as the Army have a Battle Training Ground around Thetford Forest.Again whilst, possibly quiet at weekends, one could never rule out "special operations' activities, and aircraft were required to give this area a wide berth also. Still I had the feeling that I was being pushed too far north, so I altered the heading again. By now I seemed to be flying over an area that I had not flown over before. When uncertain of position the easiest thing to do is continue flying in the assumed correct direction, until a landmark is recognised, or can be identified on the map, so that is what I did. I was slightly concerned when the first easily identifiable feature I saw was a railway line. I had never seen one before in this area! Soon a fairly large town also appeared out of the haze. I frantically scanned my map to work out where I had strayed. With a sudden sinking feeling I realised that I must have overcompensated, and was heading straight for Thetford. I had blundered straight across the Battle Area...............

........Now we had a problem. Well several actually. The sand was too soft to taxi on and the three machine had broken through the hard shell that formed the surface and were now several inches into the softer subsurface sand. We needed to find at least one hundred yards of firm sand to take off on. If during the take off roll we hit the soft sand we could tip the machines over.Or going out? What seemed like a great idea was now looking very serious.

We could wade to the shore across the channel of sea water but that would risk taking a chance on the depth of the water and the strength of the current. If we left the machines on the sand bar the sea water would wreck them. The 'New Guy' had brought along twenty litres of fuel in a spare can, both as a reserve to fill up his smaller fuel tank, and as extra ballast. He also carried a fifty six pound weight. Often two seat machines carry extra ballast to make them more comfortable to fly single seat. He decided to ditch all this extra weight. Colin and I walked the length of the sand bar, looking for enough firm sand to fly off. The sand seemed to be drying out, with a good westerly wind helping the process. We decided to wait for a while. Eventually conditions were "As good as they were going to get". It was a go for it situation. Win or bust! .............

............ Rather than carry all our cameras, helmets, and other flying gear with us to the petrol station, one young guy offered to stand guard, as we rushed off carrying our empty Jerry cans.

As we headed off a small group of teenage lads, jumped off a horse drawn trailer to go and look at the strange flying machines, which had just descended into their playing field. As the guy guarding our equipment was explaining all about microlights, and the competition we were involved in, one of these boys wandered over to his machine and stole his camera. Now the camera is the vital piece of equipment in this competition as it contains all the evidence of places visited. Without it one cannot prove the route flown. The boys ran off, with our luckless pilot in hot pursuit. By the time we arrived back at the machines a police car had arrived and statements were being taken. The police car had been cruising by and spotted the strange sight of a man in a funny flying suit chasing after a horse and cart, and joined in the fun. We all very nobly, and quietly got into our machines and left the poor guy making his statement. All he wanted was the camera back, but the police insisted on getting all the details from him, before returning his equipment. We got away but the poor guy was there for another couple of hours before the problem was resolved. It ruined his day! We felt very bad about leaving him (for a couple of seconds), but staying would not have helped him, or us. All is fair in love and competition!.........

Extracts from the book
Flying With Angels - The Microlight Experience
By Kevin Rutland,
ISBN 1-84037-136-6
Published by Airlife Publishing