Here’s a clearer view of the exhaust, taken from the front cowl looking back in the direction of the firewall – quite a failure of the weld joint! The whole unit has now been dismantled and sent away for repair or replacement depending on the quality of the material left in place. Looks like we won’t be flying JT for a good few weeks, knowing how long these things tend to take…..
Well, the engineers down at Perth got back to us yesterday with some good news, and some not so good news……The cause of the rough running engine is a surprising one.
The good news is that it wasn’t the engine, itself, or the plugs. The bad news is that the exhaust pipe coming out of the manifolds, at the joint where it goes into the muffler, has completely sheered! This left the engine with effectively continuous Carb’ heat and fouled the plugs in the process. This, combined with the detached exhaust, explains the vibration experienced, as well as the power drop.
Applying the carb heat compounded the effect, which resulted in the larger power drop I experienced. See the picture below – it’s not very clear, but if you look closely you can see a 5mm or so, circumferential space where the down-pipe should connect to the muffler and exhaust residue on the hosing leading off to the carb heat. How and why this weld joint should suddenly fail, is anyone’s guess – it was an old section of exhaust, so I suppose over time it has cracked and weakened and then failed completely. So we’re looking at a new section of exhaust and a weld repair – hopefully the muffler itself will be fine. At least it’s not cracked cylinders or something as equally expensive.
The whole bottom part of the exhaust ( the new heat exchanger / exhaust box etc ) is hanging on by just the hose! I never would have thought of this being at the cause of the trouble – every day is a school day, as they say, and our loveable old Auster continues to try us!
Whilst at Perth at the weekend, local aviation photographer, Wallace Shackleton, took this very evocative image of JT. I just love it – the tones are timeless and the sky is wonderfully brooding and turbulent. A great image, I think. Many thanks, Wallace.
To see more pictures of JT by Wallace, click here.
Yep, the problem with old aeroplanes is that while they delight the pilot with their nostalgia and charm, every now and again they throw a problem at you out of the past and their nostalgic and charming parts suddenly become the bain of your life!
I wrote that last summer, when we were having an on-going problem with our electrical system and its sentiment is ringing true in my ears again, now, having been thrown another ‘interesting’ problem by JT yesterday.
The forecast was good and I had booked the Auster for the day, just to get airborne in the old thing again and go for an easy flight somewhere. I settled on the old favourite, Perth and drove out to the strip. I arrived to find the place deserted and as I was pulling the machines out the hangar to access JT, I paused to gaze up the stretch of grass that gives us access to wherever it is we might wish to fly to. ‘What a pleasure, it is!’ I was thinking. ‘To be able to do this!’ Everything about it is just so much of a pleasure – turning up to your own private idyll to go flying, floating along above wonderful scenery. How lucky am I?’
A private idyll
After this little moment of smug day dreaming, I got airborne in the usual slightly tense fashion off the wet grass, coaxing the bloody thing into the air before I ran out of options and then settled into a relaxed cruise down the coast. There were some big showers en-route, surprisingly, since none were forecast, but they were easily avoided and I thought them to be short lived down-pours.
The CBs built up behind me, however, after I landed at Perth at mid-day and checking the weather radar picture after a bite to eat, I could see that a wall of heavy showers had planted themselves firmly in my path for the route north. Worse still, they didn’t look to be clearing until about 8pm. Great! I was stuck for the day. It didn’t bother me too much, though – I caught up with my old Pitts instructor and chatted to various club members at what was a busy day at the SAC. G – PARG was there, which did a great display over the race course, making me lament the sale of my Pitts again ( It had to go in 2009 if I was to ever own a house or drive a decent car, and by decent, I mean, consistently functional ).
Pitts S1-S and JT at Scone
I periodically checked the weather throughout the day and by 6pm I’d had enough and decided to just head home – the showers looked to be dying out on the radar picture and some nice gaps were opening up. I arranged an out of hours departure with the airport and took off at 18:20. Four miles out, the engine note suddenly changed, the vibration increased markedly and the engine began running very rough, making the thin cowls wobble about noticeably. My first thought was ‘prop!’ and my stomach did a little back flip as I instinctively reduced power. That seemed to ease the vibration but the engine was still running rough. I gingerly re-introduced power and the prop didn’t fall off, so I turned back for the field and called Perth radio that I was doing so, applying carb’ heat at the same time, thinking now, that it was probably carb’ icing – the 0-200 is renowned for it. On doing so, the revs dropped right off to around 2000 RPM and the engine seemed to run even more roughly, coughing and popping. I began eying up a field very closely and fully expected the engine to fail, completely. I really didn’t want to land in that small field I had selected and the runway was right in front of me, tantalisingly close, but I knew the pitfalls of ‘get-homeitus’ and there were trees between me and the airfield. I had realised by now that it couldn’t be carb’ icing, so shoved the heat selector back in and the power came back, still rough, but workable and I decided to head for the runway. I reasoned I was firing on three cylinders judging by the noise and routed for a straight in final approach on to the long, runway 21, keeping my height ( which had only been 1500 ft when the engine started playing up ) until I knew I was going to get in.
A few tense minutes was followed by a safe landing and I was amused ( and grateful ) to see the fire truck waiting for me and following me in to the parking area. Luckily, there had been a late King Air Departure and both the radio and the fire service were still manned, which was reassuring whilst I was limping back to the field. It occurred to me what a horrible experience it might have been if the problem had manifested itself whilst I was flying on the west coast last month, especially over the water or over some of the unforgiving rocky terrain that proliferates there. That, would not have been pleasant.
Safely back on Terra-Firma, ground running the engine revealed the same symptoms, so my guess is that it is either a bad plug, or loss of compression on one cylinder for some reason. Both Mags’ were functioning perfectly, so I’m not sure what else it could be. We’re hoping it’s just a bad plug, but these had been checked during the last permit renewal and they had all seemed fine, but you never know. If it is, it will be a simple fix, otherwise, it might prove expensive. I couldn’t locate any suitable tools to check the plugs as most people had headed home for the night.
So, JT is currently stranded in Perth until the engineers can take a look next week and it makes me think again, about that ratio of ground to air when it comes to old aeroplanes. There’s an awful lot of fickering for a small amount of flying. I’ve been lucky this year, being able to have had that fantastic west coast trip and a couple of great day trips, so I suppose I can’t complain and this sort of problem, in actuality, can happen to any engine, irrespective of age.
Still, JT has thrown its fair share of niggley problems at us over the last couple of years and she seems to make us all earn our flights in her. She’s certainly kept me on my toes, since starting to fly her, that’s for sure! Here’s hoping this latest problem will be a simple fix, indeed………
So innocent looking, isn’t she? JT at Perth.
A very famous Auster – as flown by Ranald Porteous – nice little outline here on the Shortfinals blog
Sorry about the terrible Auster pun at the start of the post, but I could not resist this opportunity. G-AMMS isn’t an Auster J-1N Alpha, of course, but a much changed Aiglet Trainer. Built in 1951 by Auster Aircraft Ltd at Rearsby, it was retained by the company until 1954, being completed as a J5F, then modifed as a J5K (the only such aircraft) and J5L. The airframe was fitted, at various times, with a De Havilland Gipsy Major 1 of 130hp or a Blackburn Cirrus Major 3 of 155hp, and had the Auster Aiglet Trainer’s shortened wingspan (from 36 ft to 32 ft, to increase the aircraft’s roll rate) and strengthened structure to enable aerobatics to be performed. Aiglet Trainers were popular abroad, and the Pakistan Air Force used them in quantity.
bit.ly/TPMShop
With continuing bad weather and a lack of Auster flying, I thought I’d add in a section on Ranald Logan Porteous – probably the world’s most renowned Auster pilot. He is known best for his skilled aerobatic displays in the now famous Aiglet Trainer G-AMMS – thankfully still flying after restoration whilst under Richard Webber’s care.
Click here to read a brief biog of the credited inventor of the ‘Avalanche’ manoeuvre, or simply go to the Articles and Events section and look under the ‘Pioneering Pilots’ header.
Auster Aiglet Trainer G – AMMS, as she is today.
One of the things I love about flying is the ability to find those tucked away little places that you would otherwise never get to. If you fly Taildraggers or microlights, you tend to operate away from the busier airports or the more usual GA airfields and over time, you get to hear about some really great strips ( or even beaches! ) to fly into, through word of mouth. It’s a different world, this, than that which you were used to learning to fly or operating from proper airfields. For me, it’s a world much closer to what flying is all about – freedom and exploration.
I had been told about one such strip in the Highlands of Scotland – it’s privately owned and not a place commonly visited so I won’t advertise its exact whereabouts, here. Suffice to say it’s not marked on the charts and lies amidst some truly beautiful scenery not far from a famous Highland Castle. I had been put in touch with the owner and had his permission to pop in, so I pulled the Auster out the hangar yesterday and we set off to find it.
It was the only forecast good day we’ve had since the beginning of June and the weather has turned again, today, so I’m glad I made use of the window. It had been raining a lot prior, but our home strip seemed in good enough condition, though there was some softer ground at the western end, as per usual and even a patch of standing water. I needed to take-off from this end as we had an easterly wind, but I managed to successfully negotiate the softer patches and get off ok, despite covering poor old JT in a spray of mud.
It was surprisingly grubby heading down through Angus, with cloud at 1500 ft and lower in places and a milky, muggy horizon; none of which was forecast. It began clearing nicely, however, as I neared the hills and the valley I was to route up to find the strip.
The scenery here was just stunning, with a gorgeous river valley winding its way through the hills to a backdrop of high peaks visible in the distance. The Auster’s slow cruise allows plenty of time to take in the view and I was drinking in the sights: twisting sandbanks on the river, below, the wooded hills and the high mountains and lochs appearing from behind each bend in the valley. It was probably one of the most scenic approaches I’ve made to find any landing ground – almost up there with Mull, Oban and that beach on Uist. It was a privilege to see and I felt genuinely lucky to be able to take it all in.
Round the final bend, the strip came into view. It had been recently mown and was standing out nicely against the darker green of the surrounding fields, right where the owner told me it would be. He said it was ‘about 400 yards’ so I was a little cautious about going in there with the Auster and was making sure, with the fuel load, that I would be nice and light for getting out again. It certainly looked long enough, but being pretty narrow; not much wider than the Auster’s wingspan, it’s apparent length would be deceptive.
I flew a high down-wind leg and then descended over the low lying hills, turning on to final in the low ground of the valley, trying not to get distracted by the wonderful scenery and concentrate on the approach! There was no drama, though and the strip was nicely in line with the prevailing south-easterly with hardly any cross wind – ideal. It had quite a few undulations and rounding out on a down-going portion, we arrived unexpectedly but gently as the ground below rose up again, before trundling to a stop. Being so narrow, there’s not much to see either side and tracking straight on the ground roll was done more by feel than sight. I wouldn’t have liked to have gone in there with a Pitts, though one well known local and long in the tooth aerobatic instructor does, but he has supernatural powers and is certainly slightly insane.
I parked up by the empty farm buildings to stretch my legs and once again, got that slightly giddy feeling of arriving somewhere deserted, by light aeroplane – just a narrow field in a stunning mountain and river valley with no one around. I chuckled to myself. I always do in these situations – I’m not sure why; it’s kind of like that feeling you have as a child, when your friend lets you in on a secret that you both keep from everyone else and it makes you snigger and giggle. Landing there, it was like I had found a secret place that the Auster had allowed me to find. Only the Auster and I were in on it, and it made me want to laugh.
I got the same feeling on the beach at Sollas – standing there on those wind-swept sands, I was the only one around for miles. Of all the billions of people on this planet, only I was seeing the view across that beautiful beach at that moment – just me. It was the same here – there was only I stood on that tucked away little grass strip at that moment, looking out to the valley beyond. I get that feeling in miniature every-time I go to our home strip at Whiterashes – it’s so tucked away, it feels a secret place, hidden behind trees and in the dips of the landscape. There’s usually nobody around and if there is, well, they’re just another happy soul in on the secret. With all the people in this world, it is amazing to me that you can still experience solitude in your own proverbial back yard and that’s one of the great things I love about the Auster – she has the ability to transport me to these places – to drink in eye melting beauty or just get that feeling of being alone amidst the vastness of a landscape. It’s good for the soul.
I paced out the strip before I got airborne, just to make sure – it was theoretically possible – I knew I could pluck JT into the air in 300 yards and I had about 100 yards spare to accelerate after that, with a clear climb out. The grass was longish, though and the early ground run up-hill, but we had a healthy breeze blowing. I climbed in and fired up the little continental and bumped and bounced my way back down to the other end of the strip. I opened the throttle and off we went – would she cope? Of course she would! We were off by my pre-determined ‘bin the take-off’ point and climbing healthily before we’d run out of strip. The valley opened up in front of me with its expansive beauty, as the river and its sand banks dropped away below the Auster’s still spinning wheels. I’m pretty sure I was smiling.
It’s the tucked away little places that I like the best and it’s our shabby old Auster that has brought them to me. It’s this aspect that is the hardest to articulate when I try to describe what it is I like about the machine, when dubious onlookers ask. I like her because you can fuel her up, stick a load of camping gear in the back and head off to find the hidden gems of this land. I love her more, because she’s capable of so much more than she is often given credit for, or than her looks might suggest.
She has brought me the crystal clear waters of the Outer Hebrides, the snow capped peaks of the Highlands, the imposing cliffs and jagged ridges of Skye, the green flanks of Mull, the rounded, heather clad domes of the Cairngorms and the gentle dips and folds of the Aberdeenshire countryside. All this lies at my feet, because I’m lucky enough to have access to an old and shabby aeroplane that never fails to bring delight.
I got back from an incredible tour of the west coast and islands of Scotland on Sunday 03rd June, after a short but packed three days of some of the best flying I’ve experienced. I didn’t manage to visit Campbeltown or Tiree due to runway works at Campbeltown and early closing at Tiree, but I did fulfil a long-held wish to land on the beach at Sollas and camp over-night at the beautiful grass strip at Glenforsa on Mull, as well as taking in some of the most spectacular scenery the country has to offer. It didn’t work out exactly as planned – what ever does? – But it was a superb trip nonetheless.
I also didn’t get to Orkney, but that just gives me another three day trip to look forward to in the future! Hopefully this summer.
You can read an account of the trip, with lots of great pictures, here.
I hope you enjoy it.
The Auster Diaries 