347
my pilot to tow me over the town and tell him that I will release the plane at an altitude of 300 metres and that I will climb under my own steam to 2,000 metres. Sceptical glances from my Chinese friends, who find it difficult to accept that a European might do something better than a Son of Heaven.
At 11:45, I take off. At first we follow the river. The town is to our left, set on terrace up the mountainside. There is not a breath of air; all is calm. It was as I expected. Reaching the tip of the peninsula, we turn 90 degree to the left, and this time, still climbing at one metre per second, we begin to fly across the town. As we arrive over the roofs, I sense a number of small thermal currents; my gauges frequently indicate two metres per second. But I am still only at 200 metres, and too far from the airfield, in case I should fail to find serious thermals.
When we come over San Shin Sze, the plane begins a slight turn to the left, and I sense that he is going to fly over the river again; my altimeter reads just 300 metres, and I release the glider in a light thermal, when I place myself in tight spirals. The tow had lasted seven minutes. The sky was completely blue, without a cloud, however with a slight violet haze over the ground. No wind. I was obliged to fly solely with the aid of thermal currents. Almost immediately, I find myself in a weak current. After one or two minutes, I am even descending at a speed of about 1.5 metres per second. I am flying at 75 km per hour, at an angle of about 35 degrees. I decide to resume the direction of the river and to approach the airfield but I find that I have travelled further away than I thought. There was no chance of getting back to the island from which I had taken off. I spot a great sandbank and decide to attempt a last chance to fly towards the point of the town, where I had observed and felt some good currents at the start of my tow.
-
+
At 60 metres above the roofs at last! - a few strong buffets and my two gauges are suddenly showing two metres of climb. Steep spirals, at an angle of 45 degrees, speed 80 km per hour, and I am climbing this time evenly and without being buffeted. 200 metres, 500 metres, 1,000 metres, I am always turning, always widening my turns. The fight becomes easier and easier and this time I am climbing at three metres a second. I see the magnificent panorama of the town, as if gripped in a vice between two great rivers; I see, quite small, the English, French and American gunboats (the "Tutuila", where I used to go
3
347
my pilot to tow me over the town and tell him that I will release the plane at an altitude of 300 metres and that I will climb under my own steam to 2,000 metres. Sceptical glances from my Chinese friends, who find it difficult to accept that a European might do something better than a Son of Heaven.
At 11:45, I take off. At first we follow the river. The town is to our left, set on terrace up the mountainside. There is not a breath of air; all is calm. It was as I expected. Reaching the tip of the peninsula, we turn 90 degree to the left, and this time, still climbing at one metre per second, we begin to fly across the town. As we arrive over the roofs, I sense a number of small thermal currents; my gauges frequently indicate two metres per second. But I am still only at 200 metres, and too far from the airfield, in case I should fail to find serious thermals.
When we come over San Shin Sze, the plane begins a slight turn to the left, and I sense that he is going to fly over the river again; my altimeter reads just 300 metres, and I release the glider in a light thermal, when I place myself in tight spirals. The tow had lasted seven minutes. The sky was completely blue, without a cloud, however with a slight violet haze over the ground. No wind. I was obliged to fly solely with the aid of thermal currents. Almost immediately, I find myself in a weak current. After one or two minutes, I am even descending at a speed of about 1.5 metres per second. I am flying at 75 km per hour, at an angle of about 35 degrees. I decide to resume the direction of the river and to approach the airfield but I find that I have travelled further away than I thought. There was no chance of getting back to the island from which I had taken off. I spot a great sandbank and decide to attempt a last chance to fly towards the point of the town, where I had observed and felt some good currents at the start of my tow.
-
+
At 60 metres above the roofs at last! - a few strong buffets and my two gauges are suddenly showing two metres of climb. Steep spirals, at an angle of 45 degrees, speed 80 km per hour, and I am climbing this time evenly and without being buffeted. 200 metres, 500 metres, 1,000 metres, I am always turning, always widening my turns. The fight becomes easier and easier and this time I am climbing at three metres a second. I see the magnificent panorama of the town, as if gripped in a vice between two great rivers; I see, quite small, the English, French and American gunboats (the "Tutuila", where I used to go
3
No comments yet.
Private notes are available after approval.