Dunkerque

All posts tagged Dunkerque

My instructor, Gerard Landri always said that it wasn’t a matter of “if” your engine would quit one day, but “when.” So, you had to be prepared and have a landing field in mind at all times when flying. Ultralights, because of weight restrictions often use two-cylinder, two-stroke engines for propulsion. Rotax is the main manufacturer of these light, high-performance motors. They are quite reliable when well taken care of, but leave them without TLC (tender loving cash), and they will pay you back at the most unexpected moment, according to murphy’s law. I love ultralights though, they are so much fun to fly. I’ll always remember my first solo flight from a beach in the South of France..

My Europa2 ultralight (21yo)

My Europa2 ultralight (21yo)


I used to ride my motorcycle around my home town of Comines, close to the Belgian border. It seemed like I would often end-up close to the local airport of Bondues, a small grass field for general aviation. One afternoon, I stopped by and looked around the hangars. There was the slickest aircraft I ever saw. Slim fuselage, with a long canopy, curves I had only seen on a woman. It’s wings were thin, long and flexible. The cockpit looked as comfortable as the best lounging chair. It had no motor, no propeller. I approached it, walked around, worried about being kicked out for trespassing when I heard a voice behind me: “Interested?” There was a young guy, a few years older than me (I was 19), smiling. “Sure,” I replied, and he administered the coup de grâce that would be the start of a lifelong passion: “Want to sit in it?” That was it for me! He then explained the fine points of flying gliders, offered me to take a short introductory flight and then a ten-hour block of lessons. I just said: “I’ll take the ten-hour plan.” “But, how do you know you’ll like it?” He asked; to which I replied “I will.”

Months later, I was waiting for a train home at the Lille station one September evening. The news stand had all kind of magazines (lots of porn), but I favored the aviation section. There was an ultralight magazine.. I don’t remember if it was “Vol Moteur,” or “Ailes Magazine,” the two French ultralight publications of the time, but I bought one. Now, you have to understand French mentality a little, the bad side of it, to know that general aviation pilots do not like ultralights.. They pay fortunes to fly “real” airplanes, when someone flies by in a tube-and-fabric contraption that costs as much per hours as it takes for them to taxi from the hangar to the runway, imagine that! So, I had been warned about ultralights being widow-makers, unreliable and dangerous. Well, going through the pages, articles and photos, they seemed much more serious than I was made to believe. The fact that they could land so slowly was in itself a great safety feature. Unreliable? Somewhat true, when it came to engines. But then, you have no business flying over forests or cities anyway, and the rest is pretty much pastures and agricultural fields. You’d have to be a very bad pilot to kill yourself there..

Flipping through the magazine, a small photo caught my attention, that of a small plane towing what seemed to be a gigantic advertising banner, or rather a flag, with an ad for a supermarket. That got me thinking.. I called the company and ask the man on the phone (Gerard), a flurry of questions about his business. Let’s just say that for someone crazy enough to get into it, there was money to be made. That December, I was learning to fly on the French Riviera, near Beziers. I came back without my license, not enough time, but started to look for customers. I had no plane either, mind you. However, I did find one attraction park owner willing to go for it, and received a 20% deposit on a 200-hour contract for July and August on the North Sea shores, from Berk-Sur-Mer to Abevilles to the South, and to Bray-Dunes (Belgium) to the North via Le Touquet, Dunkerque, Boulogne and Calais.

My next trip was to the bank, where I explained to a couple gentlemen that I needed a fat loan to buy a plane made of tubes and tarp-like covering to tow giant banners along the coast.. Well, either I was very convincing or the economy was really good back then, because they said yes! I was lucky they didn’t ask me if I indeed had a pilot’s license! I used part of the money to finish my training, and bought a two-seater ultralight from Monsieur Mathot’s Weedhoper factory in Valenciennes. I was towing banners and giving rides to tourists for the Park of Bagatelle at the end of June.

That fateful day, I felt like flying but my Europa2 was down for repairs. I called the factory to see if they had anything I could borrow. I was in good terms with them, having bought two aircrafts from them and a couple spare engines. I was also selling their products.. A customer had left a deposit for a plane, but never paid the balance. The ultralight was sort of in limbo, and they were willing to let me borrow it. Being a two-seater, I wondered who might want to fly, and thought of one of my best friends, Arnaud, who was stuck at home with metal rods sticking out of his leg after a broken femur, open fracture he got in a motorcycle accident. He enthusiastically accepted the invitation.

After a customary thorough preflight, we taxied onto the runway at Valenciennes and I applied full power. The Rotax 532 went up to the 6500rpm limit, but it didn’t feel like we were getting the whole 64hp it was supposed to deliver.. More like 50, which for two was a bit weak. We slowly climbed to one thousand feet where I decided to stay, not to over-strain the engine. It wasn’t but a few minutes before the motor started banging loudly on one cylinder! I hit the emergency stop button. No need to fry the second cylinder. We weren’t going to stay aloft on one anyway. Arnaud turned to me with a concerned look:
– “What’s going on?”
– “Engine failure..”
Nothing had changed though it was now quiet, but for the noise of the wind.
– “Are we going to be all right?”
– “Yeah, we just have to land right now..”
I knew we weren’t going to hurt ourselves bad, but with that hardware sticking out of his bone, any shock to his leg would have been a catastrophe. I spotted some power lines to the right, started turning left where I had seen a long brown field aligned with the wind. We were still at a thousand feet but i didn’t want to do a full turn to lose altitude. I put the plane into a side slip, with the nose way down. That increases drag quite a bit, so we were coming down quite fast. The Europa2 having a high-wing, I could no longer see my field. I checked the prop, which was stopped horizontally, otherwise I would have given it a little starter hit to move it so that it would less likely break upon hitting the ground, if we did. I told Arnaud: “lift your legs up!” and pulled on the stick to flare. “Shit!,” “what?” “Potatoes!”
Anyone with a bit of agricultural knowledge knows by now this isn’t good news.. The brown field was a potato field, with rows of elevated dirt.. Fortunately we were landing in line with them, otherwise, it would have been painful! The back wheels touched down a little fast, but without an engine, I didn’t have much choice. A cloud of dust exploded around us in a sickening crashing noise. We stopped maybe forty feet later, tail in the air, and the whole thing fell back down, right-side-up. We looked at each other in relief, not a scratch! The front of the ultralight though was a bit crushed, save the prop that made it unscathed. Not bad.
We jumped out, and looked around. It was amazing how little ground we covered after touching down. Knowing how much a hassle it would be to deal with the authorities, I said “let’s get out of here!” Then came the farmer.. He was all smile! “Hey guys, how are you? I heard you lose your engine, glad you guys made it ok, is that an ultralight? You know, you guys can come and land here anytime.” Waoh, and I was expecting him to up upset about his potatoes being harvested before their time.. We started dismantling the wings, just a few pins to remove, not tools needed. There was a house about half a kilometer down, so I headed for it, hoping to find a phone. A woman greeted me suspiciously, I can’t blame her, but gave me her cordless phone. The factory didn’t like the news, to say the least. They sent me a driver with a trailer in a hurry, knowing as well as myself that filing tons of forms in triplicate wouldn’t be much fun. We made it out before any cops showed-up. I paid for half the damage, which wasn’t much. It turned out that a spark-plug had burned a hole in a piston.

Losing an engine in an ultralight, or small plane like a Cessna for example isn’t that big a deal, if you pay attention at what’s under you when you fly. I knew a pilot, Mr Mesureur, who was operating a banner towing plane, a French Rally, from the same field. I used to see him fly indiscriminately over towns at 500ft. Good for business maybe, but being from the ultralight school of piloting, seeing him always raised a few hair on my neck, as I was going the long way, around towns and villages, never over. Well, one day, I arrived at the airfield to find a smoldering pile of junk in the middle of the runway being hosed down by firefighters. Out of whitch, sticking up, was the tail of his plane. I ran down the strip to be stopped by a fireman. Smoke was still pouring out of the wreckage. “Is he all right?” I asked, panting. “Yes.” He said, to my relief. The pilot explained to me later that his plane caught on fire in the air and that he barely made it, jumped out seconds before the whole thing burst into flames. I asked him if the incident was going to change the way he flew. “You bet.” He said…

I had never been interested in boats until a few years ago. Not that I didn’t have the opportunity to sail, but the North Sea isn’t a friendly body of water, not to mention the weather.. My first day on a boat was out of Dunkerque (WWII buffs know the town) in a heavy chop and rain. We didn’t even hoist the sail. I used to think of sailing in terms of wetness and hypothermia. That and the fact that I didn’t know anyone else who owned a boat kept me away from marinas for many years. Moreover, owning a decent boat in France is for the rich, thanks to socialism.. You could also encircle the globe with the red tape associated with boating, in France that is..

Fast forward about seventeen years.. An older gentleman, friend of mine whom I met at the airport (he was a P-51 pilot in WWII) invited me to sail around Sarasota. I had the feeling that it was going to be a whole different experience than Dunkerque.. We didn’t go very far, but when the old Atomic 4 engine was shut-off, I was in heaven. We were moving at a decent speed it seemed, even though the scenery wasn’t quite flashing by. Time slowed. If you ever sat in front of a fire in the woods and watched it, the feeling is somewhat similar. There is a sort of fascination about being driven by the wind. The wine and cheese helped quite a bit too.

These days, we fall under the control of many. It isn’t something you really notice until you start wondering about what freedom really is. Politicians love the word, but they never seem to define it. After the advent of the industial age, big money and large goverments, freedom’s definition became a bit fuzzy.

Take your house for instance. You really only own it after it’s paid off, and only if you pay your property taxes. Even after you die, your kids will have to pay an inheritance tax. Which by the way is the biggest racket I ever heard of. You can’t leave and take your house with you. That’s fine if the city or country you live in is heaven on earth, forever, but things change. Many people have been reminded of it in our present economy. You can’t find a buyer in a down market. Boats don’t have that problem. Sure, they lose value every day spent on the water, but a well kept boat can last a lifetime. You get waterfront property for free and pay no property taxes. If things get iffy, you can sail away in the sunset. You’ll never be bothered by Jeovah’s Witnesses either! Those who say that a boat is too small have never seen the inside of a fifty footer. A well ajusted family of six could live well on such a large boat. I would own a house, don’t misunderstand me, but I would also own a boat, be it a small one if that is all I could afford. My Dagny is 32ft on deck, enough for probably four for extended periods of time. I plan on building a bigger one if I can.

Traveling in a post-911 world is more of a hassle, to say the least. You get patted down, scanned, IDed, and arrested for carrying so much as a pocket knife. Hell, you’ll get arrested and jailed for raising your voice in a plane. Don’t shrugg, it has happened. God may have mercy on you if your name happens to be on the terrorist watch list, as this eight-year-old found out. If there ever was a large scale evacuation, or some sort of country-wide lock down, you might not even be able to leave. A sailboat gives you that option.

The first time I lost sight of land while at the helm was in a plane, flying to the Bahamas. It lasted all but ten minutes before I spotted West-End. I wasn’t concerned, but found myself checking my oil temperature and pressure guages a bit more often. I imagine that being away from land for days or weeks in a boat is not for the faint of heart. You can get used to almost anything though.. You are after all traveling in your own house. There is plenty to do on a boat, and you can always load-up on books, musical instruments, DVDs, video games and fishing tackle. How else could you travel around the world for a reasonable amount of money?

Sailboats are not just toys to sail around the ICW. They give you global mobility if you ever need it. Once you get into international waters, you are your own master. A boat can take you and your family out of a bad area to safety. More than powerboats, sailboats can become a lifestyle that might be the only way to truly be free in this world. And of course, it is always nice to go out for a day, drink wine and eat cheese while anchored near a local uninhabited tropical island..