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| What the Press Say About SFC |
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Daily Telegraph Article 30/08/05 |
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| Press Article and Photographs published in the Brighton Tribune 10th February 2005 | ||
A WING AND A PRAYER |
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With the terminal as a backdrop to a fleet of old fashioned aircraft that look like they're straight out of The Aviator, I start to feel like I've traveled back to the Thirties. All I need is some Gucci goggles and Howard Hughes on my arm. The distinctive drone of propellers is everywhere, filling me with fear and anticipation. "Is it safe?" I ask my instructor Ian Perry, as he guides me towards a small Piper Warrior plane we're shortly going to be airborne in. "Very", he assures me. The interior of the Warrior is like a small sports car. There are comfortable leather seats, enough room for two in the back and a whole panel of exciting knobs and twiddly bits in front. These old school dials tell the pilot (me) things like where the horizon is, where the compass points are, how fast we are going in knots and what speed the engine is revving at. Ian has already explained the basic principles of flying - how wings control air pressure and create lift, how to pitch up and down, how to bank the plane, and how to roll, yaw and turn using the ailerons, elevators and rudder.
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Once I'm strapped into the pilots seat, with Ian next to me and a double set of brakes and control wheels so he can take over at any time, my anxiety evaporates, I just have to follow the lead and he can take control if I stuff it up. We communicate via headsets with one another. Ian is also in touch with air traffic control at the tower, who keep us informed of weather conditions and other pilots in close proximity. He says something like: "Echo Lima Bravo over", and we're off. We taxi on to the runway where I make my first attempt to control the plane using the foot pedals. It wobbles left and right as my car driving instincts kick in - I'm supposed to keep it central. Take off is a strange sensation which defies belief. Finally airborne, we fly through clouds and rainbows, high above acres of rolling hills. We rise 2000 feet in just a couple of seconds and cruise. The costal towns below us look miniature and ridiculous amid masses of green space, bright blue sea and sky.
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Suddenly Ian banks the plane on its side so we are perpendicular to Beachy Head. My stomach flips but it's great fun. Then I have a go at turning the plane around, keeping my eyes on the horizon. But all I can see is sky and sea and for one scary moment I'm not sure where I am - until a glimpse of the coastline brings me back on track. Forty minutes pass very quickly and soon our time is up. It's tempting to fly further and further - to France or the Isle of Wight - and for a price this is actually possible. But instead we start to make our way back to Shoreham, skirting the edge of each town. Air traffic radios that bad weather is coming in fast. Back at base we enjoy a well deserved cuppa and recover, then make our way back to Brighton with spirits soaring. But traveling on the ground suddenly seems so boring. Journalist Xenia Gregoriadis |
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