October 2025: Building Momentum (10th–12th)
The Friday forecast promised blue skies and perfect soaring conditions. Reality, as ever, had other ideas. Low cloud clung stubbornly to the airfield for most of the day, leaving us grounded but far from idle. Dan, Neil, Laura, Elliot, Alex, Graham and Guy all turned out
With flying on hold, we first rigged both gliders before attention turned to the SZD-59. What began as a few “quick jobs” soon evolved into an eight-hour marathon. Elliot and Laura led the charge installing the new undercarriage warning system, while Neil upgraded the radio setup with a dynamic boom-mounted microphone. Turning it on for the first time was a heart-in-mouth moment—one wrong wire and it would be an expensive mistake—but the crisp tone of a successful radio check confirmed all was well.
By the time the tools were packed away, daylight had faded, leaving just enough time to plan the next task: fabricating a new sequence card holder for the cockpit. That would have to wait for tomorrow.
Late in the afternoon, Dan managed to squeeze in two short flights in the Fox, both limited to 2,000 ft by stubborn cloud. Despite the lack of airtime, it felt like a productive day. We ended the evening at the Nags Head, sharing stories, food, and the quiet satisfaction of a team that makes the most of any day—flying or not.
Saturday morning began much like the last: grey, damp, and wrapped in low cloud. But optimism is second nature to this group. With flying delayed, the launchpoint once again became a workshop. Seb and Simon joined us.
The SZD-59’s cockpit was soon a hive of activity. The new sequence card holder was measured, cut, and installed. Neil tackled the American radio wiring—replacing the old handheld mic with the newly mounted dynamic one onto a lovely machined mount that Graham has already made and installed. Hours later, the switch-on moment arrived. “Reading you five,” came the call over the radio. Relief, followed by grins all round.
When the weather finally relented, the launchpoint came to life. Thirteen flights in total—not bad considering the morning’s fog. Rolf joined us for a transition check in the Fox with Guy before moving to the SZD-59, leaving with a big smile and a new appreciation for the aircraft’s handling.
By evening, tired but happy, we headed for the village shop in search of frozen pizzas, only to find the shelves bare. The fallback plan: an enormous takeaway feast that fed us for three meals straight. Typical pilot efficiency.
Sunday brought déjà vu in the form of yet more fog. One glance at the weather printout earned a collective groan. But if the weekend had taught us anything, it was patience—and the value of keeping busy.
With gliders towed out to the launchpoint, we turned once again to engineering and tinkering. The Fox gained a plan for a new rear-seat radio display mount, the SZD-59 got a carefully cut template for a wing triangle, and the undercarriage microswitches were fine-tuned with surgeon-like precision. Everyone lent a hand, offering tools, ideas, and cups of tea.
By 2 p.m., the fog finally lifted. The field transformed from silent grey to bright gold in minutes, and we made the most of it. A few short but rewarding flights followed until the next wave of low cloud rolled in around 4:30.
Neil took advantage of the brief window to push himself—and the gliders—a little harder. Under Guy’s supervision, he flew a set of demanding advanced sequences involving rapid transitions from −4 g to +5 g and extended negative pushes, first in the Fox and then in the SZD-59. Guy admitted the figures were challenging, and Neil couldn’t quite pull them off cleanly in the 59—more practice required. Still, the attempt opened new possibilities: if the team can master these demanding figures, they could form part of a future Free programme for others to fly, giving us a real competitive edge.
Though the logbook entries were few, the value of the weekend went far beyond airtime. The sense of teamwork was palpable. Everyone pitched in, everyone helped someone else. There were no egos, no competition—just shared ambition and mutual encouragement.
By Sunday evening, it felt as if something had truly clicked. The squad wasn’t just a group of individuals chasing qualifications—it had become a team with one shared goal. Confidence was growing, progress was steady, and smiles were constant—helped, of course, by Laura’s seemingly endless supply of biscuits.
