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(34 votes) Published: May 16, 2000 12:00 a.m. Viewed 258 times
The idea of attempting to fly a paramotor from Lands End to John O’Groats came about as a result of one too many beers with a friend, Jim Armstrong. Reminiscing about my eight-day moped version of the trip, undertaken when I was 16, set me wondering if it would be possible to do the same on my paramotor. Little did I know how much time, energy and patience it would take to get the project organised, let alone make the flight.
The original plan was to just go and have a crack at it, with Jim supporting me in his Land Rover, but people said I should try for sponsorship and press coverage. Having decided to go the whole hog, I then thought of raising money for a charity, as I had done on my previous trip, and who better than Flyability? I made a list of people to see and things to do, and it just got longer and longer. The biggest lesson I learnt was: if you are going to do something like this, make sure that you have lots of people to help you. I was all but alone for the most part… and heading towards a nervous breakdown towards the end.
Dave O’Donnell, founder of the British Paramotoring Club and UK importer of DK paramotors, was very interested and offered to supply a paramotor for the trip. Dave turned out to be a real star, eventually supplying two paramotors, associated spares and equipment, a van to put it all in and some financial backing. Cheers, Dave - I’ll be forever grateful for your trust and support.
Mike Campbell-Jones, designer and co-director of Reflex Wings, saw the potential of the trip to show the capabilities of his amazing wing and agreed to supply a Reflex for the attempt. He also provided a demo for me to compete in the National Paramotoring Championships. What nice people.
I’d hoped to get a TV company to do a fly-on-the-wall documentary of the flight, but I soon realised I’d have to get a production company to film the event. I had to find a sponsor to finance the film, additional equipment and logistics or I’d be needing a second mortgage. I put a brochure together and spent a fortune on phone calls and stamps, generating a nice pile of thanks-but-no-thanks letters. The few positive responses were lost one by one, mainly due to budgets having already been allocated. Another lesson: plan well in advance.
Then I received a message from Ivan Pope, who runs an internet company called Netnames. He was very positive at our first meeting, and some weeks later Netnames agreed to sponsor the event. Brilliant news.
I was spending a lot of time on charity fund-raising. For a minimal donation people could guess the time it would take to complete the flight. Generous companies provided some decent prizes, the best being £200 of vouchers from the Arcadia Group (Burtons, Racing Green, etc.). Though I sent entry forms all over the place I was very disappointed by the response. In all I managed to raise the paltry sum of £650 - an abysmal return on the effort.
My support crew consisted of friends Jim Armstrong, a colleague, and Jim West, a fellow paraglider pilot, travelling in a van with all the equipment and towing the caravan (our home for three weeks). Having two Jims created a problem and we decided that Jim West would be known as Fraser for the duration, his natural pessimism and other attributes reminding us of Corporal ’we’re all doomed’ Fraser from Dad’s Army.
Thursday October 1st. Departure day. We arrived at Lands End at 3am, nine hours behind schedule after two blowouts on the caravan. The wind was from the worst possible direction and strong, and when the TV crew arrived it really was too strong to fly. I decided to try and fly around the Lands End complex; if conditions were too bad I would land immediately. I did my bit, they got their pictures and I was still in one piece.
Taking off again at 6.41pm, a line caught on the cage-mounted strobe. The wing dived to the left and I aborted. Lesson learnt, a second take-off was made. The wind was still strong - on my downwind leg I reached 105km/h over the ground, the fastest I had ever been on a paraglider, and turning into wind took me off the end of the country, looking back at Lands End from over the sea. I flew back painfully slowly, marked my start point on the GPS and continued on to St Just airfield.
Friday October 2nd. We were up at the crack of dawn, but the sky didn’t look promising. West Country TV had arranged an in-flight rendezvous with the Culdrose rescue helicopter. Delayed by commercial movements, I got airborne at 9.15 into a gloomy sky. As I reached the hills it started to rain, and soon it was pouring down with visibility rapidly reducing. I was approaching Newbridge and eager to get on the ground, but I buzzed the edge of the village as I needed a landing witness.
Soon after I landed I was joined by a chap in overalls who had run from the local garage. The Culdrose helicopter flew over, and after Jim called their ATC and explained our situation they returned and did a nice fly-past. By the time visibility had improved enough for me to attempt another flight most of the village had turned up - the local garage owner had even closed his business to watch.
Heading for Truro, I still had a headwind and flew through some pretty rough air. While avoiding RAF St Mawgan MATZ my tip steering line broke loose, but I managed to retie it after several involuntary 360s. At Truro’s huge grass airfield owner Phil Irish filled us in on its history over tea.
Soon I was heading for St David’s Stow Moor, 55km into a headwind but over some beautiful scenery. Approaching the airfield the motor started missing as if running out of fuel, although I should have had at least two litres left. I found fuel in the top tank but it hadn’t siphoned to the lower one. We checked the obvious causes but found nothing, so refuelled and hoped for the best.
A microlight was to fly with me from here for some in-flight filming. My first take-off was abandoned when my GPS fell out and it took several more attempts to get off. Nil wind conditions and my high take-off weight meant that I needed considerable speed to get airborne, and the extended frame for the larger fuel tank hampered a full running stride. I finally got airborne and was joined by the microlight. At one point the pilot got it all wrong and flew very close in front of me in a steep bank. To my surprise and the wing’s credit it didn’t collapse. Subsequent passes were more civilised.
49km into the flight my fuel problems recurred. I was over the A30 north of Okehampton, and seeing a service station surrounded by fields I decided to land. The management were very helpful in allowing us to charge our batteries, use the toilet facilities and camp on the forecourt for the night, and we were offered a full cooked breakfast free of charge. We had managed 150km against a headwind - not bad.
Sunday October 4th. After a hearty breakfast I was airborne, the forecast promising increasing headwinds. Approaching Cadeleigh I had covered 32km in 1hr 13min and it was obvious that I wasn’t going to make my intended landing site. With the support crew in sight it was a good time to land, refuel and replan. Two hours later the wind was 12 knots gusting to 18 and I decided to give it a go. As I flew out of the hills conditions worsened, with a very strong headwind and thermic air. Approaching junction 27 on the M5 I could see the support van parked, but conditions were getting dangerous - my GPS showed a groundspeed between zero and 30mph. As I approached I was at full throttle one second then off it the next, but I landed safely. A disappointing day.
Wednesday October 7th. Up at 7.30 to make the most of the conditions after being grounded for two days. Although calm on the ground the upper clouds were zooming by. I was into strong winds as soon as I climbed, and I landed after only 7km. As I turned downwind my groundspeed shot up to 50km/h! We camped at the Globe Inn whose hospitality was nothing short of superb - they provided a meal for six of us and raised a considerable amount of money. We spent the next two days there, grounded by strong winds.
Friday October 9th. Up at 6am. The take-off site was in a shallow valley with long grass, no wind and power lines running across the field. After several attempts to launch I had to give up, exhausted and in considerable pain from my shoulder, dislocated a week before departure! I eventually got into the air at 10.40 after a close inspection of the power lines! I was hoping to make Clevedon, 58km to the north, but 2,000ft above the M5 motorway I hit a shear layer and rediscovered religion. Any other wing would have collapsed several times but the Reflex remained inflated throughout on full speed bar. Countering the roll and using thrust to damp the pitch, I felt the air the air change to silky smooth with an increasing tailwind. North of Bridgwater two helicopters converged on me at my altitude. They went into a hover as I started to alter course and descend, then did a smart about-turn and chopped off into the distance.
I had planned to cross the Severn above the two road bridges. Only a fool would attempt this without a rescue boat on hand, and SARA, a private rescue crew, kindly agreed to help - it would be a good training exercise for them and would raise their profile. I reached the landing site having covered 58km in 1hr 11min. The rescue boat was in the water and heading for the rendezvous but I could clearly see the forecast warm front approaching. Refuelled and life jacket fitted, I took off into a lowering cloudbase and flew along the estuary with enough height to glide to the shore.
As as I approached the new Severn crossing the rescue boat came into view and I relaxed a bit and began to enjoy the scenery, but when I put in a turn the boat was nowhere to be seen. Well away from the shore now and too low to make it to safety should anything go wrong, I turned again and headed for Severn Beach, suddenly becoming religious again! The boat had been unable to keep up with my high groundspeed, but with it again in attendance I flew back out into the centre of the estuary to fly over the new road bridge, zig-zagging to enable the boat to remain within distance. When I landed I was on a real high - 30km over water!
Saturday October 10th. We now had strong north-westerly winds, with most of Wales covered in wave conditions. Already well behind our planned schedule, we reverted to our secondary route to keep out of the high ground. Airborne at 6.05pm, I was hoping to make Bushley where Jim Armstrong’s sister lives, but headwinds forced me to land short. My landing witness invited me to sample her home made wine while I waited for the crew. It took them over an hour to arrive as I’d crossed the river again, and I was suitably inebriated when they arrived.
Wednesday October 14th. After being grounded for three days except for a short flight to Bushley (where our much needed washing machine lived), I took off at 5.40pm after waiting for the weather. I was hoping to make it to Halfpenny Green near Wolverhampton, but conditions in the air were appalling and I landed at Defford after only 10km. The landowner recommended a famous local cider house for the evening. Sore heads next morning!
Thursday October 15th. Airborne at 10 for Halfpenny Green, I had to land after 31km because of increasing headwinds and big cloud development. I got airborne again at 5pm, determined to reach Halfpenny Green despite a strong headwind. My speed increased as the wind dropped off, and when I reached the airfield doing 36km/h I decided to press on until I ran out of daylight or fuel.
My revised route took me east of Telford and towards Seighford airfield near Stafford. I had a close encounter with three Hercules transports - we all took avoiding action but passed much too close for comfort. Just like buses - I hadn’t seen another aircraft all day and then three come along all at once! I landed safe and sound at Seighford, pleased that a short hop had turned into a 50km flight. Our spirits were raised a little, but when I discovered that my camera had jammed and all my photos including the Severn crossing were lost they sagged again!
Friday October 16th. Woke up full of flu. Took off at 8.30 into a hellish looking sky with a 12 knot southerly, heading for the high ground of the Peak District but concerned about a forecast warm front. I’d only been in the air for five minutes when it started to rain and the wind became very gusty. I made for some fields near Stone but found myself going backwards despite full speedbar and trimmers off giving 64km/h airspeed. I had no option but to climb back into an unwelcoming sky, and crabbed across wind until I spotted the local cricket club. My crew soon crew arrived, followed by Mike from Reflex.
We only had three days left to complete the trip, and given our progress so far it was obvious that we were not going to make it. Forecasts were not good and the consensus was to call it a day. We had achieved a lot, given the conditions, but I was unhappy about giving up. I decided to stay and see it out, hoping to push further up-country should the opportunity arise, but I needed at least one person to stay with me to drive. Fraser offered to stay with me to the bitter end. Good man!
Saturday October 17th. Grounded by weather, but the evening forecast gave Sunday as clear with light south-westerlies. Fraser and I looked at each other in disbelief.
Sunday October 18th. It was absolutely freezing at the crack of dawn, and the breeze couldn’t have been coming from a worse direction. I eventually took off at 11 for Netherthorpe airfield, 78km to the north-east. Fraser would not be able to get there in time, but Colin Nicholson had volunteered to meet me with fuel and hot coffee while Fraser proceeded to Breighton near Selby.
I had a beautiful but freezing flight, arriving after 1hr 20min to be greeted by Colin. Once recovered from the cold I was off again, heading for Breighton 58km to the north. When I arrived an hour later Fraser had only just got there. I left at 5.30pm, intending to push as far north as possible before dark. I had a few microlight sites marked along my track and daylight was fading fast as I arrived at Husthwaite. We had shown the potential of the trip, covering 157km in 3hr 25min. The caravan park at Thirsk racecourse was the only place we were charged to camp on the whole trip!
Tuesday October 20th. After another day on the ground, light north-westerlies were forecast, going south-westerly later. We decided on Whitby to make the most of the wind. Airborne at 11.49am, I had a lovely but freezing flight over the North Yorkshire Moors, but had to route around Fylingdales to avoid a free sterilisation. The coast looming up in the distance, marking the end of the trip, made me quite sad. Whitby looked picturesque from the air and the ruined Abbey was a perfect place to land. I was greeted by the landowner and one of his tenants, who just happened to own a restaurant in town and opened up to cook us a free meal to celebrate our achievement.
Three weeks of appalling weather had beaten us, although I had only needed four or five decent days to complete the trip. The DK paramotor and Reflex wing both behaved impeccably, despite some very adverse conditions, a feat I put down to their excellent design and build quality. Despite the disappointment of not making our intended goal we had covered a considerable distance, to the surprise of many doubters. My heartfelt thanks go to all the people who believed, helped and invested in me, especially Jim and Fraser, without whom it would not have been possible.
Lands End - Whitby 602.8km
Distance flown (GPS) 801km
Average groundspeed 36.57km/h
Maximum groundspeed 105km/h
Highest average speed 54.40km/h over 57.8km
(Distances flown were often considerably greater than these point-to-point figures due to routing around towns, airspace, etc.)
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