Judging by the forecast, we were expecting to awake to glorious clear skies and no hard weather decisions. Perhaps we’d just been a little optimistic, but there was most definitely some ominous cloud formations erupting nearby. Nevertheless, the forecasts seemed to contradict the picture outside the B&B window, so we hoped that what we were looking at was fairly localised and proceeded to plan the route and make our way towards the airport.
The scene, admittedly, did not look much more promising there, but there were a few very helpful local pilots who advised of the best routing out of Carlisle, suggesting that the ominous clouds to the west had the potential to become threatening, while if we tracked southwest to Hexham, we had a much better chance of locating the clear skies predicted. After a bit of route-tweaking, we decided the best we could do was to take-off, see what the picture looked like from the sky, and we always had the option of dipping back down into Carlisle if necessary.
Unsurprisingly, the locals were right, and before long we were enjoying a higher cloud base than we could climb to and good visibility for the first time on the trip. Although we had already missed the VIP day at Syerston, to which we had been invited to attend, we decided to stop in there all the same, to visit the site of the new aviation academy.
The further south we track, the busier the airspace becomes. In Scotland we are fortunate to largely fly clear of major aerodromes, controlled airspace, and only occasionally do we encounter other traffic. We quickly found ourselves in the midst of MATZs and with our eyes on red alert for fast jet traffic. Of course this was only a light initiation for what was to come, but gave both of us plenty to do on our way towards Syerston.
Once again, Claire spotted Syerston first, though the complete absence of runway markings did make me seriously question for a short time whether she had identified one of the nearby disused runways. Apparently not, so we continued the approach, landed and taxied to the end of the runway to keep clear of a glider winch, looped back round and were met by a friendly marshaller. He topped up G-EVIE’s tanks for us, thankfully, as she seems to be guzzling a bit more fuel than anticipated, perhaps something to do with the exorbitant amount of luggage we seem to have been able to pile into the back, before leading Claire to a telephone, to which she might still be attached if the call of our stomachs hadn’t won out.
We visited John Middleton, the Commanding Officer, who kindly gave us our favoured brew as he welcomed us to Syerston, then showed us to the crew room to have a look at the weather, have some lunch, and sort out the next leg of the trip. I acquired a few raised eyebrows as I produced my whizz-wheel to plan from here to Norwich, but persisted with the cumbersome method.
It turned out, that the Red Arrows were also making their way to Norwich, and there was a chance that if we didn’t make it on the ground on time, we would struggle to find a landing spot. Not wanting to miss our invitation to look around the aviation academy (or the Reds) we expedited our departure from Syerston by taking the longest amount of time possible to settle back down into the aeroplane, taxi around the entirety of the airfield before arriving back at the start of runway 24, identifiable as such, not by the white runway numbers that weren’t there, but by the fact that it was long, hard and in the right direction.
Dodging the gliders, we took-off and immediately were above stretched of fields with few identifiable features and not a completely definite sense of our precise location. Aside from a lot of WWII airfields, which all look vaguely similar, there are few very definite features; however, we spotted Grantham town and Belvoir Castle on departure so could pick up a heading from there.
Flitting in and out of military traffic, it was a pleasant route to Norwich, and with the airport in sight we could set up our approach and enjoy a slightly bumpy descent before the wind calmed as I entered the flare and landed. The Red Arrows had beaten us to it, and it was a rather spectacular welcoming reception.
After Saxonair handling had comfortably settled us into a crew room in the airport, we were met by the staff of Norwich’s International Aviation Academy, who have very generously sponsored four legs of G-EVIE’s tour. The academy is purpose-built and a fantastic facility for all training in all sectors of aviation. We were also given a short session on a helicopter simulator; I cut my flight very short by crashing on take-off, while Claire managed to at least get off the ground before crashing on landing. On reflection, it is perhaps best we stick to aeroplanes.
On return from the academy, we reconvened with the Reds for dinner in Norwich, a welcome surprise for us, realising that instead of planning tomorrow’s route and doing all the things on the list that we were supposed to be doing, we were having a fantastic evening listening to fast jet stories, not feeling at all envious, and this time rather hoping that we had started and we meant to continue.
