Geneseo 2012 - A Journal

This is an account of some of the highlights that I observed and experienced at the 2012 FAC Nats. The journal includes photos and movies that will help complete the visuals. Each year there are many many stories from the flying field in Geneseo…these are mine.

Prolog

Field and Sky

The life blood for any flyer. Next to our models, they’re the elements we dream about most in free-flight. Wide open areas of soft grass, magnetic skies to frame our stick and tissue models.

I did alot of head turning on my way to Geneseo this year, taken in by the ever changing sky and the vast number of untapped fields along the 275 mile route through rural Pennsylvania and New York. Fields that more than likely had never been touched by balsa, never seen the joy of a flyer’s thermaling flight, never had a model land gently near its tree lined border.

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The Chase

The months leading to Geneseo held a flurry of building activity amongst my friends in the free-flight community. Each model more impressive than the next.

All guaranteed to create a buzz at the scale judging venue. But as projects were completed, many flyers including myself felt limited when it came time to fully trim the models for the big show. The local fields simply were not feeling large enough, or sufficiently soft to handle the uncertainty of a fully torqued model. The last thing any of us wanted to do was arrive at Geneseo with partially trimmed models, but with a few weeks to go, it felt like the only option.

Relief arrived for me through a college friend’s unexpected gift. She and her husband live on a parcel of rural Pennsylvania that has been in his family for generations. Their beautiful oak shaded barn and farmhouse sit on the corner of a large rolling field of timothy, waist high grass that goes on for acres and acres. They offered me an open invitation to use the field as often as I needed. I quickly accepted, eternally grateful for their generosity. To any modeler in the world, this is akin to winning the lottery. I couldn’t believe my good fortune.

As I drove on toward Geneseo, I thought about those trim sessions at Rhoads Farm in Pine Forge, PA. The fleet had grown this year, so alot of work was in order. Veteran ships needed some attention too, leading to five or six visits to the field through June and July. The first new arrival to the hangar was a 20” Fairchild 24 from the 1935 Scientific series. A 16” Heinkel 178 jet catapult glider had also joined the fleet. But most of my focus was given to the 27” Argentine jet, theI.Ae.27 PulquiI, and my first rubber twin, the 37” Russian MiG-DIS.

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Through April and May I had let the grass in half of my backyard grow to seed, so there was a wide soft area to toss the ships and find the CG through a series of test glides. This became valuable information leading up to the powered flights. It also got the neighbors talking…affectionately referring to the space as Hallman’s Meadow.

Of all the new ships, the MiG-DIS felt the most solid during the test glides. No matter how I tossed her, she’d right herself and float in on the glide. Based on a Lubomir Koutny design, I had framed out the fuselage in 2005, but put it aside. In late 2010 I took another look at the project, which led to a finished model by April of 2012.

MiG-DIS test glides

At Rhoads Farm I put in six flights ranging from 20% to 70% winds. On 30% power, she pulled out slow yet solidly to the left for a complete circle. At 60% the MiG lifted cleanly through the same pattern but with increased height, majestically circling a few times while transitioning into a shallow glide. She must have appeared to be a hawk, as a few birds darted out of the tall grass when she landed. I put her back in the box, where she remained for about a month until I left for Geneseo the morning of July 18th.

MiG-DIS trim flights

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As the miles passed, the magical field back in PA was heavy on my mind. The purity of that space. It felt like my own secret fishing hole, undisturbed, yet inviting…waiting for the next round of flyers to soar overhead. While passing a large, open area near Elmira at mile 156, a bald eagle swept across the highway from the right, just under the telephone wires. Flying parallel to the van for a few moments, he arced back across the road from the left, then peeled away toward the open area as if to say, “you continue on to Geneseo, these fields are mine…”

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Arriving at Geneseo a couple of hours later, it became obvious that this year we would fly the field differently from the past. The prevailing wind was to be from the northeast, or from the direction of the school, placing the flight line along the crops on the east side. Stretching from the gravel road to nearly the wall of trees, the line was a quarter of a mile long. Some had arrived on Tuesday and were already into day two on the field. I joined the group, tossed a few of my own as a blessing to Hung, then headed over to the judging venue around 1PM at the Quality Inn.

Finally, all of us were able to see and soak up the many projects that we had anticipated these past few months, teased by photos or videos along the way. You could feel it, the total rush of Geneseo and models born and reborn…this was going to be one of the best Nats ever!

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That evening, a gang of flyers returned to the field for one last session of trim flying. The wind had finally calmed, the warm sun had left the scene, but it still gave us an hour to fly. I brought out my newest ship, the bright red Pulqui. She was to be my lead flyer in the morning, so I wanted to be sure she was ready for the challenge. I cranked in 1800 of a possible 2400, and let her go. With damp wings she lifted cleanly and spiraled skyward to the right. Ninety seconds later she touched down in a slight scalloping glide. She was anxious and ready to go. So was I.

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Pulqui trim flight in Geneseo

Day One, Thursday, July 19th

First Light

I love the opening morning of a three day contest. Clean slate for all, loaded with anticipation for the events to come. But the start felt odd as the 150 flyers made their way down to the field. Many weren’t sure about the predicted wind direction, a concern worth merit, as we were greeted with an eerie ominous sky and westerly wind. The wind was in our faces, opposite of the reports. Consequently, a few held off setting up their canopies, suspecting a shift in location.

The Hesitation.

The starting horn was more like a starting shrug, as few were willing to toss up those first flights, which would certainly end up in the beans or the eight foot corn, fifty yards behind us. Instead, I saw flyers race across the field with fully wound motors, or jump into cars, golf carts, or onto mopeds, heading over toward the traditional location for the flight line nearer to the hangar. From there you’d have 1/3 mile of drift to ease any crop concerns.

That’s what I did with the Pulqui in the back of the van. Scot Dobberfuhl joined me as mechanic and timer. It was already 8:25AM, which left us little time to put in a flight or two, since WW1 mass launch was gathering at GHQ at 8:45. The Pulqui was another ship that had started to form a few years earlier, only to be put aside by more immediate projects. But the road leading to Geneseo is an inspiring road, enabling flyers to produce above and beyond what is normally possible. (I’d like to take this moment to thank and re-introduce myself to Jane, my wife, who rarely saw me in the evening hours these past few months).

After having finished the fuselage back in 2009, the Pulqui was completed within 2 months in the Spring of 2012. She became a familiar flyer over Hallman’s Meadow, and also flew more than any other ship at the field in Pine Forge. A true hands on flyer that required more TLC than any model I’ve flown in years. But I was certain that it was time well spent. Even that last trim flight at 9PM, the third “just one more flight” of the evening under a full moon…the one that landed her sixty feet up in a hickory tree. Yes, it was all well worth it, since it allowed me to more fully understand this finicky, puzzling, yet inspired flyer.

Pulqui test flights

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This recent history was on my mind as I started my Nats with the Pulqui. From across the field, Scot and I readied the rubber powered jet, winding in 2100 turns. She had flown solidly the night before, so I didn’t slip in any trim flights. I wished I had. Rather than lifting out and up to the right, she circled in a lower pattern, one that felt too tight, one that resisted lift. As the torque wore off she opened up a tad, but by then the power curve was on the downhill slope, with duration relying purely on available turns. She came in at 1:32…not bad…but clearly, she had alot more in her to show.

Ironically, the drift was virtually nil, landing only fifty yards from the launch, Still, as I picked her up and made a slight left adjustment to the tail, I said to Scot, “This motor has another 300 in her. With this calm air, why not put her up again?” Like any good mechanic responding to another flyer’s model, he said, “Sure…why not?” So we did.

2350 turns later, she rose on a wide spiral to the right, gaining serious air with every pass…too quickly in fact for the local band of curious onlookers, the barn swallows, to catch up to her. By the time the prop began to free-wheel, she was reaching her max. The rest of the way she floated on a shallow glide, touching down at 2:16. A few yips and yells, a high five…she’d done it! But no time to extend the celebration, they were calling for WW1 mass on the horn.

World War 1 boasted twenty-nine models of all shapes, colors, and sizes. However, the approach to thinning the ranks was different this time around. All mass events would happen in three rounds, and all flights were to be timed by your mechanic. If you didn’t have a time for the scorer, you were DQ’d. Team work would be an element to success in Geneseo 2012. So it was a bit sobering to see nearly half of the flyers shot down in the first round, then half of those in the second, leaving six for the final. Gone for most was the strategy of winding short through the early rounds. It was wind as close to max as you dare, then hope you still have enough torque for the final.

In contrast, at my first Nats in 1990 with the same number of flyers, John Houck and Dave Rees made it to the final shootout but only after first having gone through eight rounds!! Battered ships and broken strands of black rubber ruled the event. Making it to the end required a keen sense of winding intuition, and perhaps a bit of luck.

But on this day when the dust had cleared from the battle, Don DeLoach took first with his Bristol Scout. There were a few bugs, but was a good mass event to get things rolling at the Nats. The wind had shifted as predicted, so as we walked back toward our canopies on the flight line, it was good to see all of the activity. It was 10AM and the troops were flying fast and furious en masse.

As I returned to my hangar, I saw the Pulqui waiting in the back of the van, looking rested but ready to go! I looked at Scot who said, “Sure, why not,” and proceeded to crank in 2400 turns, max for this motor. As I walked 100 yards into the field, the air was calm, lift felt near; I let her go on what became another enjoyable flight to watch. This one was more wandering than the last, but she still had that slow and steady approach to flight that I had always admired in a few of my mentors’ ships. Finally…I had found a flyer with that same magical sweet spot, a crazy long motor powering a ship with low wingloading…able to go thermalistic at any given moment.

But this one was going to be close. Straining for every last turn of the prop available to her, she eased in nose high for the last few circles and touched the turf at 2:00:43…her second max and final flight for FAC Scale. But of course, a few of the guys watching from the flight line had other thoughts, and quickly toyed with their watches to come in as close to “under” two minutes as possible. A sad faced Clive Gamble showed me a fictitious time of 1:59:58, leaving me properly skunked.

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The rest of the day was surprisingly slow paced. A quick exit from the Thompson Race left me reevaluating my awareness for shifting wind direction on the mass launch line. Time to focus, always. This opened up a slot to fly the 20” Fairchild 24 in Simplified Scale. Between flights I brought out the Heinkel 178 jet catapult glider for a few test flights. To quote WingNut, ”…if you’re looking to have maximum fun for minimum bench time, this event is hard to beat…” I might add, any time saved on the bench will be quickly transferred to the field, as these little buggers will seriously test your trimming skills!

The lift was minimal throughout the afternoon, followed by drizzle and a slow drift toward the southwest corner, the farmhouse and hangar area. I decided to stop flying around 4:30, but was able to assist Clive Gamble with his high flying Manulkin twin pusher. He still needed two officials for the Old Time Rubber Stick event, but the clock was ticking. Flights were in the 3-4 minute range, so quick retrieval was in order.

After a launch that looked more like a man who was reacting to a swarming nest of angry hornets than a graceful release, Clive hopped into the van with me and we drove down to the farmhouse and beyond. We said a quick ‘hey’ to the three horses in the adjoining meadow, then spotted the lanky green and pink flyer about 200 yards away on the all dirt field. With little time to spare, we drove back to the stooge where Clive wound for his final official. With Mike Stuart as the timer, the twin pusher was tossed cleanly into the air around 4:50PM. She maxed, which led to a three-way fly-off fifteen minutes later.

The rain was falling as Clive let her go for the final flight of the day. With binoculars and camera in hand, I timed her from the road by the farm, looking to hold a strong line on her, should she decide to float past the farmhouse once more. But she stayed safely in sight, landing on the dirt of the open field once more, much to the surprise of the flock of birds feeding on scattered grains. A fitting end to a memorable day.

Clive Gamble’s Manulkin twin pusher

Day Two, Friday, July 20th

The Shift

Day two always gives me a chuckle. Most of us arrive on the flight line in ernest, but with a little less hop to our step. That feeling of ‘did we just spend an entire day from 8AM to 9PM chasing models??’ Well here we go again…time to shift into second gear.

Same as before, concern centered around the forecast…10-15 mph for the duration. But once again Hung & Co. put a protective shield on our field, giving us 0-8 mph and overcast until 3PM or so. After that the rains came, but the trade off was well worth it for the flyers. I’ll take low drift and a few drops of rain late in the day over 10-15 mph anytime.

My slate for Friday was full, especially since I hadn’t made much headway in the five scale events. The drift was near zero at 8AM, so I planned on flying power scale. But the night before while tuning up my 13” Waterman Aerobile, the prop shaft froze. Luckily the peanut sized electric Airco DH-2 was ready to step in and take the role of the wingman. He has been a consistent flyer who is able to put in some quick flights if he survives the landings.

Others on the docket were the 19” Bleriot XXV for Pioneer, the sleek 21” red and black Smilin’ Jack X-13 in Fiction Flyer, the 16” Heinkel 178 for jet catapult glider, and also the 18” Herr Tri-Pacer for Modern Civilian. If time allowed, I was hoping to fly the DO-X in scale and the Martinsyde Buzzard in the peanut scale event. There was a modern military mass launch to consider later in the day, but the winds were expected to be blowing heavily by then. Fearing she could out fly the field, I didn’t plan on flying the new Pulqui in this event.

At 8AM, Mark Houck and I drove out to mid field on the north side, allowing me plenty of room for drift with the electric DH-2. Two sets of batteries were fully charged so I was anxious and ready to get him into the air. A clean, flat launch is key with this ship, but those skinny, flexing twin booms make it a challenge each time out.

Away he went for her first official but from the start, I knew something wasn’t quite right. The shallow, scalloping flight suggested he was under powered, and slightly out of trim. Round and round he flew but the energy just wasn’t there. He settled in for a disappointing flight of 83 seconds. To have even the slightest chance in this event, you need three maxes, so I replaced the battery with the back-up.

This time he sounded stronger, with a higher pitch. The bird lifted quickly and settled into a solid pattern, climbing all the way. The Airco looked incredible, like a new ship out for his maiden flight, instead of a twelve year veteran. The local barn swallows were impressed too, joining in with the fun as they swooped and circled around him, like an aerial game of dodge ball. The little ship finally came back to the turf after a flight of 2:25, leaving the swallows to almost disappear into thin air. Such magical little birds.

Knowing his role as the mechanic, I asked Mark if I should put the DH-2 up again, I’m sure there’s enough juice for a second flight. True to form he said, “Sure, why not?”…so off the model went for his third official and second max. Power Scale was finished, but this was only the start of the day. It was 8:30AM.

I brought out the Bleriot XXV, the Smilin’ Jack and the Tri-Pacer for a round-robin of official flights…a good way to keep the action going while allowing the rubber to rest. There wasn’t much lift in the morning, but at least the chases were short, even with the longer flights. All three ships flew fairly well, with the most memorable coming from the X-13 Fiction Flyer on the third official. This ship can be testy, since it’s flown by either Smilin’ Jack or one of his lovely De-Icers, who shares the cockpit.

Until the second circle or so, I never know whose hand is on the stick. But this time I knew it was Jack, ‘cause he wasn’t fooling around. Not a fan of the Joy-ride, he took her up on big, rising circles to the left, followed by a beautiful, smooth transition to the right for the glide. They eased in for a 1:43, leaving all of us smilin’…

By the time 2PM came around, we were all gathering in dead calm conditions for the Modern Military mass event. The Pulqui was whining for another chance at flight, so I caved. Besides, who would have thought that the air would remain still for most of the day?? It was supposed to be a blowout! Since I hadn’t expected to fly her today, I broke the primary rule of mass launch,always start the event with a fresh motor. I simply did not want to risk new rubber and a changed CG that sometimes accompanies it.

Instead, I used a motor that had already seen three flights at 90-95% max winds. Hopefully a full day of rest would be enough, but I started out with very low turns for the first round, only 1250, less than fifty percent. It almost bit me, as the ship flew out low and slow, nearly hitting a few spectators…who always seem too close to the action. Not wanting a repeat, I bumped up to 1850 for round two…leading to a fuller, cleaner flight, much more quickly up and away from the line. She was safely in for the final.

The last round of a mass event is always one full of anxious moments, from the call of “two minutes” until the last one is down. In my case, I was concerned about the beating this motor had already taken, and whether or not she could handle max winds again. Seeing there were so many of the best flyers on the line, I knew it would take a soaring flight. I wound in ernest, but with caution to 2300. Then I looked up and saw known high flyers Mitchell, Detar, and Farrell…and slowly wound in 100 more. She was packed as tight as she’s ever been, so I could only pray that the torque monster wouldn’t rear it’s ugly head and dramatically alter the flight pattern.

3-2-1 LAUNCH !! The Pulqui left my hands cleanly, with a purpose, straight away. A streaking, silver flying wing came darting across quickly from the left, just aft of her tail. Close, but no dice…she was on her way.

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New territory, massive torque, led to a wandering flight for the first 30-40 seconds. She went left at the start, then slid right, settling into her usual pattern. But she seemed to lose her focus, distracted by a friendly face below on the distant flight line and headed over to say hello. All the while, the rest of the flyers were rocketing skyward for serious altitude. At sixty seconds, the Pulqui finally turned back to join the mass launch crowd, and put on her game face. She was in cruise mode, yet still climbing. Others were coming down, while she was just starting to go up with a purpose. Having flown against the likes of Dave Rees, Don Srull, Gene Smith, and Jack McGillivray, I had been on the receiving end of this phenomenon many times.

But this was the Pulqui’s moment, and it was a joy to watch. Up she went while most of the other five ships were already down. Only Wally Farrell’s Mig-15 remained in her sights. With low drift toward the farm, down the two started to float above the thinning crowd below. The extra 100 turns came into play as the Mig landed four seconds ahead of the Pulqui. An inspired moment for any flyer with a new ship at her first contest. I walked back to my hangar on the flight line with the proud bird, all the way remembering the many trim sessions and especially her night in the tree, two weeks earlier in Pine Forge.

At 3 o’clock, we all gathered at GHQ to honor our fallen friends, a final flight celebration. The experience can best be described by the following words, as seen on the BBC documentary “Battle of Britain”, spoken by William Walker, ex-Spitfire pilot, then ninety-seven years old.

“Remember those not here today, and those unwell or far away, or those who never lived to see, the end of war and victory.

And every friend who passed our way, remembered as if yesterday, it’s absent friends we miss the most, to all, let’s drink a loving toast.”

The rains came an hour later, but there was just enough time to get the catapult flights in with the Heinkel 187. Day two was over for most of us by 4PM, but not for Vic Nippert, who along with his wife Tena, bravely pushed on for his final officials with Miss Canada. Total commitment by both flyer and timer.

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Quite a few stayed at the field past the 5PM closing. By 6:00 the rain had stopped. At 6:30, the pizza arrived!! Nothing better than having a few pies delivered to the field, not to mention the look on the delivery guy’s face. It was the perfect way to end day two, and prepare for day three and the final push. But hold on, we still had the BLUR and SLOW events to run this evening!! By 8:30 the fast & furious and the painfully slow competition was over. Two great events, smiles all around.

We flew until 9:30…twins, pushers, scale and non-scale…whatever we had in the hangar found some air. Last chance to trim before morning.

Day Three, Saturday, July 21st

Quiet Calm - 7AM

The ride down the gravel road was strangely eerie. Over night, a thick warm fog had enveloped the field, suggesting a blanket on any ideas of early thermalistic flight. Looking to get a quick start on the day, I was pleased to find that quite a few others had the same idea. Pulling into my spot on the flight line, I could barely see the hangar before us on the west side of the field, nor the school behind us. It seemed as though we’d be socked in for awhile, but looking straight up, I could see the clear blue starting to break through. A sure sign that lift was on the way, so you’d better be prepared to fly.

I quickly got to work, setting up the stooge for my 37” Russian twin, the MiG-DIS. It would take methodical focus to get this ship cleanly on her way, and I wasn’t about to falter through the basics, not after all the time spent at home getting her up to speed.

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Winding a twin is like an Indy 500 pit stop in slow motion. You have a set, predetermined sequence that needs to feel like mindless routine. Miss one element, and you’re done. Start over with new rubber, unless you care to roll the dice.

After anchoring her in the stooge and installing the blast tubes, I wound 1420 into each side beginning with the right, winding as usual, but going with reverse rotation on the left. The props counter rotate over the top toward the wingtips, neutralizing the torque. With the MiG wound and ready, I began what felt more like the defusing of a bomb than the removal of a model from a stooge. Pulling both pins in sequence, I grabbed the nose and gently lifted her away.

By 8:15 the fog had finally cleared. Wind direction was away from the flight line to the north. I wanted open space for this bird, no trees, no crops within 300 - 400 yards. Walking to the middle of the field, I checked the streamers noting very little movement. I went a few more yards, pulling the DT wire as I came to a stop. Deep breath. Relax.

Lifting my left hand quickly away from the nose and props, I tossed her skyward with my right. Up and to the left she flew, rising slowly and methodically. Circle after circle, all the while gaining altitude on the warm, morning air. I’m sure I was smiling, I know I was whooping it up with a few involuntary yells of ”c’mon baby” and “get up there!!” It felt like a perfect dream.

At some point she settled into cruise mode, floating around at 300’ or so. I would love to see the field from that vantage point. As she passed two minutes, drifting closer to the runway, I stopped my chase and simply watched. She was really doing it, maxing on her first official. Around 2:30 the DT popped, turning her into an umbrella, eventually floating in for a 2:43. The perfect way to start the day. All I could think of was, ‘get back to the flight line…put her up again!!’

MiG-DIS flight in Geneseo, filmed by Mike Stuart

I didn’t realize it at the time, but that’s probably when I lost my focus. Cloud Nine can do that to you sometimes. While the motors rested, I started to put up a few others. The Beech Staggerwing in dimer, and the Fairchild 24 for Golden Age. I came back to the MiG twenty minutes later with anxious anticipation.

All was set, the routine in motion, pointing toward having her ready for a second official in the next few minutes. With the right side wound to max, I was about a third of the way into the left motor when I realized my focus had left me. Distracted by a passing flyer, I had wound the motor the wrong way!! So I did what any flyer with limited twin experience would do…I quickly backed off the winds, then started over with the same motor and wound to max. All the while, the fully wound right motor waited…

This led to a testy, spiraling flight of thirteen seconds and an even quicker drop on the confidence meter. The earlier high had dipped to an equal low, so I did what I should have done when I realized the winding blunder…I went back, tossed the motors and started with a new set.

By the time I was ready, the wind was kicking up. The MiG didn’t manage it as well as I’d hoped, but she still came through with a 1:31. Forty-five minutes later, the winds were still increasing. Fearing it would turn into a gale throughout the afternoon, I sent her up for a third and final official around noon. Disappointment when I found that the same large, sweptback wing that can lead to long, slow, thermaling flights, can also bring the model down in a hurry if swirling, choppy air grabs it in a turn, preventing recovery. In she came on her wingtip, down in twenty-three seconds. A sobering moment.

Still, I had to be pleased with the MiG-DIS. She had flown beautifully off the board, and gave me a first official flight to remember for a lifetime. Add to that, she came through it all unharmed. The big twin will be ready to handle the wind next time around, after a calculating tweak or two.

By 1PM the wind direction had shifted. Flights were heading north toward the runway in a hurry, so a number of flyers started a new flight line along the gravel road. Looking to get 7 or 8 officials with three ships, I decided to join them.

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For the final push, once again I played the round-robin game. The sky was bright and full of thermal activity. Pick the right air and you were on your way for a major flight and a long chase. Just don’t forget to set the DT! Once again the players were the Staggerwing dimer, the 20” Fairchild 24, and new to group, the peanut Martinsyde Buzzard. Each were wound to max and flown in succession. I found some good air, some not so good air. A few took off on elevators, only to be pushed down by the Hand of God. Great fun though, watching this roller coaster of flights, pitted against a ticking contest clock. With only twenty minutes to go, I needed one last official with the Martinsyde. This was to become my final flight of the 2012 Nats, before I rushed my time sheets over to GHQ.

The Buzzard has been in the flock for over fifteen years, and has seen alot of air, both indoors and out. She’s had her share of repairs and, like anyone getting long in the tooth, has gained a little weight. Adding to the urgency, each official oddly demanded two attempts. Her previous flights were challenging affairs of 51 and 58 seconds, but were preceded by a visit to Dork City, ie, unofficial flights of 5-15 seconds. Typical for an aging peanut perhaps, but she was still a gamer.

So after I wound the ship to 2250 and readied her for the final launch, I wasn’t surprised by the fluttering leaf, dork of a flight that lasted all of six seconds. Without hesitation, I ran back to the stooge, glued the partially dislodged landing gear back on while holding the prop, cranked in 400 turns, and quickly tossed her skyward. No time to check the streamer.

True to form for this second toss, she grooved into a smooth circling flight to the right. I followed. She cruised around at 70 feet, then started to drop, looking like another 50-60 second flight. But Hung was around and took notice, perhaps feeling compassion for this old bird that he’d been watching these many years. Bump - bump…he decided to give her a ride to remember. The wings rocked, her tail lifted. The clouds parted and smiled, revealing a brilliant sun. All was at peace with the world as she rose quickly to over 150 feet, heading north toward the far end of the flight line. I stopped and watched through the binoculars as she finally fell out and floated in as best as a peanut could for a 2:28.

Running back to the van, I drove over to GHQ with the time slips, then headed back to my canopy near the line of trees. I walked fifty yards into the field, spotted the familiar British roundels, and brought the little bird back to her nest in the van. The competition side of my Nats was over, but what a way to end it. Hopefully it’d be enough to score well in peanut.

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Epilog

Earlier in the day my flight line mate, John Stott, showed me a few framed photos and memorabilia from the first FAC Nats in ‘78 and earlier. Classic images. They gave me an idea. I grabbed a black marker, then slid a piece of foamcore into one of the 2012 Nats t-shirts. As quickly as I could, I walked down the flight line toward GHQ, asking each flyer to sign the shirt…mirroring what John had done for a friend who was unable to attend the event in ‘78. I wanted to make this a keepsake for my dad, who at 91 is still a major influence on my life, my hero, my best friend, and my reason for being a part of the Flying Aces Club.

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Dad has had the passion for flight since he was six years old, when Lindberg crossed the big pond. He had built stick and tissue throughout his teen years… “hundreds of them”…he’ll always say. As an enthusiastic teenager, pop even offered one of his models for display to the 1939 New York World’s Fair organizers. In 1936 he spotted an ad in a model magazine for a 30” French non-scale floatplane called the Hydravion MB. A letter along with 25 cents was sent by this 15 year old to a hobby shop in Paris. A few weeks later, a medium sized envelope arrived at a farmhouse in Kneifer, PA for Monsieur D. Hallman. It contained a letter, the plan, and a four page hand-typed catalog. He looked at it a few times, then tucked it all away. At an Easter family gathering fifty-one years later, the envelope lay in a box with old black and white family photographs. Stored deep in my folks’ attic, it was the only thing my dad had kept from his childhood…and I had found it.

He gave me the plan, I built it, then sent a bones photograph to Earl Van Gorder, who published it in his FM column. A member of the local Skyscalers Club, FAC #30, called and invited me to join the Flying Aces Club, changing my life’s path forever. Little did that fifteen year old boy in ‘36 realize the positive impact he would have on a future son, half a century later.

Tom Hallman

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Additional videos

Clive Gamble’s Hydravion MB

Mike Stuart’s AW Argosy

Fokker DVII trim flights

Bleriot XXV flight

Heinkel 178 trim flights

Fairchild 24 trim flights

Greve mass launch, round one

Rick Pendzick’s Swinger jet cat glider

Vance’s Coanda jet cat glider

Mike Stuart’s Argosy, flight 2