Rossy, a former Swiss Mirage pilot, who now flies an Airbus for a living, says he isn’t worried about the risks. Although he does acknowledge that “If I get it wrong, I take a bath”. Rossy also follows in the footsteps of Felix Baumgartner who, in 2003, glided across the channel attached to a wing. The main difference being that Baumgartner flew unpowered. He jumped out of a plane at 30,000 feet so that he had enough height to glide for the 22 miles, whereas Rossy will leave an aircraft at just above 8,000 feet.

Once he’s outside the aircraft the four kerosene burning engines which are attached to the wing will light, and he will (hopefully) fly across the Channel to land in Dover. I’ve got to admire him for having the courage to do it. Whilst it might not seem overly risky, if he hits the water at his top speed of 125 mph you have to assume the outcome won’t be good!

The 2 aircraft are being built by Burt Rutan’s Scaled Composite company at Mojave airfield, now named Mojave Spaceport, California. Having been there myself and seen the aircraft that Scaled Composites build I can safely say that they are truly unique. The odd shaped, coupled with the materials that are used reflect Rutan’s truly innovative style and designs.

More details and some video footage from the unveiling can be seen at the BBC News website here.

Now fast-forward to the present day. Concorde is nothing more than a museum piece now. Retired before its time was up, and resigned to gathering dust in various places around the world. Only 20 were built and so there are very few places around the world when you can now see them, one of these places being New York. Originally bound for the USS Intrepid floating aviation museum, Concorde “Alpha Delta” (G-BOAD) is currently sat in a yard in Brooklyn while the Intrepid and its home pier undergo repair works. Now you’d assume that anywhere that such a prized asset is stored would take care of it and make sure nothing could happen to it. Apparently not…

One of AD’s side windscreens is now showing signs of cracking, the nose has been knocked off when the aircraft was hit by a truck, and birds have taken to nesting in several areas of the fuselage. A sorry state for the once magnificent supersonic jet.

So why does The Sun (not something I normally read!) have to make such a pigs ear of reporting this (see article here). In the article they claim that “its windscreen cracked by footballs and its engines are full of birds’ nests”. I mean come on. You seriously expect people to believe that a jet that used to travel faster than the speed of sound had windscreens that weren’t even tough enough to withstand a football? Please. And if birds are nesting in it’s engines then someone should be quite worried as the only aircraft flying with Olympus engines nowadays is the Avro Vulcan (which has just returned to the airshow display scene). Now I know the reputation of this particular paper and so you can take it all with a pinch of salt. Just makes you wonder whether the story is there to report the demise of a once glorious airliner, or drum up more bad feeling towards America amongst the knuckle-dragging (allegedly) readership that it prides itself on having…

It’s been a long road for all on the project, and the support has been incredible. Over £6.5M has been raised to get the project to where it is now, and a lot of this has come from aviation enthusiasts who want to see the delta back in the sky. I personally can’t wait to see her flying again. I’ve only ever seen a Vulcan flying once, at an airshow at Teesside Airport (now Durham Tees Valley Airport) many years ago. I’ll never forget the feeling of the ground shaking and watching this glorious machine fly past. I even remember the guy stood next to me saying to his son, “Look, it’s Concorde” and thinking how wrong he was. Even at my young age I knew what I was looking at. Of course at the time you think these things are invincible and that you’ll see them forever. How wrong I was…

The Vulcan was one of the main reasosn that we won the Falklands War in the early 1980s. Flying missions well beyond the approved operating range of the aircraft, from the Ascension Islands to Port Stanley and back, the Vulcan dropped 21 1,000 lb bombs on Port Stanley airfield and cut the runway in half, as part of Operation Black Buck. This prevented the Argentinians from having an air defence capability based on the island. Without this strike, who knows which way the war would have gone. After having read the fantastic Vulcan 607, by Rowland White, I appreciate even more the effort that was put into getting these aircraft there. It’s also good to see that names that will be familiar to readers of the book, such as Martin Withers and Barry Masefield, are involved with the flying side of an aircraft with which they created history. Of course it may be a bit of a culture shock to these guys as the cockpit has been drastically overhauled (a friend has described it as being like “a brand new Boeing 747 in there”). The original clock instruments have been replaced with state of the art technology, but I’m not so much of a purist that I’m offended by this!

So what more is there to say? The Vulcan is one step away from returning to where it should be, in the sky. If you hear the sound of thunder and there isn’t a cloud in sight then look for the giant delta wing shape, and take a moment to appreciate what you’re looking at, what it did for the history of the UK, and enjoy the sight of one of the greatest British bombers back where it belongs…

Beurling was born and grew up in Montreal, Canada, and fell in love with flying at a very early age. By the age of nine he was already spending most of his spare time (and some of the time he was meant to be at school!) at the Lasalle Road Airport which was about 3 miles from his home. Sitting watching the Montreal Light Aeroplane Club and their aircraft convinced Beurling that he was destined to fly. At the age of ten his wish came true. One of the instructors at the Aeroplane Club (now moved to Cartierville) offered Beurling the chance to ride as a passenger in one of the aircraft. It was tough convincing his parents, but in the end they relented and let him go. Beurling was truly bitten by the flying bug. He knew that he wanted to fly, but didn’t know that with the imminence of World War II, his chance would come.

His first attempt to sign up for service was, naturally with the Royal Canadian Air Force. Unfortunately, due to his lack of school qualifications they would not take him (he couldn’t understand how they could turn away qualified pilots just because they didn’t finish school). Then word came that the Finnish Air Force were hiring pilots. Immediately Beurling made enquiries about signing up with the Finns. The only thing standing in his way was the consent of his father (as Beurling was not old enough to sign himself up). In the words of Beurling, ‘“You will sign it , won’t you?”, I asked, pretty urgently I imagine. Dad simply looked up and said: “Nothing doing!”. And that was that. No Finland for me.‘. His final opportunity came at the hands of the RAF, and so he signed up to work his way across the Atlantic with the merchant navy, and across he came, landing at the Queen’s Dock in Glasgow, although not before 70% of the naval escort for the ship had been torpedoed. Within an hour he was in an RAF recruiting office with a Flight Lieutenant listening to his story.

Unfortunately Beurling had forgotten one thing. His birth certificate. So in a move which shows his determination to fly, he re-crossed the Atlantic on the same ship he had just arrived on, picked up his birth certificate, and then made the return trip to Glasgow. At last he was in, he’d made it, he was now a trainee flyer in “the biggest flying show in man’s history“. However, his approach to flying was at odds with what the officers in authority wanted from him. Once training was covered, he was posted into East Anglia, where he would fly sorties over England and into German-occupied France. His time here was not the happiest, and he eventually volunteered to be posted to 249 squadron in Malta.

Once Beurling had reached Malta, his true flying skill began to shine. His record whilst on the island (27 confirmed kills with several more damaged aircraft to his name) speaks for itself, and he was by far the most successful RAF pilot on the island. He became known as “Screwball”, a curse he would regularly use. By the end of July 1942 he was promoted to Flying Officer and received the Distinguished Flying Medal. During September he claimed 3 kills in one day, an achievement he repeated in October, both of which earned him the Distinguished Flying Cross.

Beurling’s last flight over Malta saw him as the lead pilot of a flight of 8 Spitfires, sent up to intercept 60 German aircraft. He claimed 2 victories but was wounded and his Spitfire was severely damaged. He bailed out and was hospitalised, an experience which he found deeply frustrating. He was posted back to England, and was almost killed on the transit flight back as the aircraft overran the runway at Gibraltar and sank, killing most onboard. Not a lot more is written about his time during the war. He was honourably discharged in October 1944, and these were obviously unhappy times for him. Sadly, in a mirror of Beurling’s life, the book comes to an abrupt end. Beurling was killed whilst flying as an instructor on the P-51 Mustang aircraft with the Israeli Air Force in 1948.

More than just a book, Malta Spitfire is a historical document. With fewer and fewer of the RAF’s Spitfire pilots alive each year, books like this one remind everyone of the price that was paid by so many in World War II. Beurling was one of the most successful pilots to fly in the skies over Malta, and without him and his comrades, the outcome of the war could have been very different. This book is an insight in to how the RAF held on so far from home, and the part that the islanders themselves played in this campaign. Sometimes shocking, sometimes humourous, this book is a real page-turner. For anyone who wants to read about the RAF in World War II, Roberts and Beurling give a fantastic view into what life was like, the hardship, the camaraderie, and the heartbreak. A fantastically well written book, and one without which my book collection would not be complete.

Well I guess that depends on who you talk to. Talk to an aviation industry expert and they will tell you that there is a belief that the Eurofighter Typhoon (another BAE Systems project) contains an element of stealth within its design (although no official confirmation has ever been given). Talk to some residents of Lytham St. Annes or Blackpool and they will tell you that stealth aircraft have been flying from BAE Systems production facility at Warton for many years. There are countless stories of the “Warton Triangle” being seen over the North-West coast of England in aviation circles, and there has always been the suspicion that BAE Systems is testing this technology ready to enter the stealth industry. Also if you speak to any of the privileged people who have been on a guided tour of the Warton facility, they will tell you of the mysterious hangar near the radar testing facility.

There is one hangar that is always off-limits on these guided tours. It resides on the flying side of the airfield and is always dismissed as a “spray-shop” or a “component fabrication building” and so visitors aren’t allowed to enter. However, there is a paint facility on the flying side that visitors are allowed to enter and so this reason doesn’t really hold. Also, if it was a fabrication building why is it situated on the flying side of the airfield when all other similar buildings are on the other side of the runway?
The building also stands out due to the entrance. What looks quite low key to begin with is actually a two stage “airlock” type entrance. With revolving doors at either end of this entrance, you can never see in to the hangar as one of the 2 doors is always closed.

So what could be taking place in this hangar? Well your guess is as good as mine. I’m not about to start hypothesising and starting conspiracy theories. All I’ll say is it does seem strange that reports of the Warton Triangle have been around for years, and the first major stealth project in the UK goes to the owners of Warton airfield…

It’s a sad thing that yet another of the spitfire heroes has now passed on, and with their decreasing numbers I’m happy to say that I’ve met a few and listened eagerly to their stories of wartime flying. Unfortunately Raymond was one that I never had the good fortune to meet, but I know from other sources that he was a true gentleman, and epitomised everything that the RAF stood for during World War II.

Baxter died on September 15th, aged 84, and is survived by his son and daughter.

The second Lightning was in the garden of the owner of XR724, and was in fact XR725. Again, pictures to follow shortly, but it’s a damned better garden ornament than a bunch of gnomes!!!

So this weekend sees me off to Binbrook (near Hull) to photograph one of the most beautiful and powerful aircraft the RAF have ever flown. The English Electric Lightning. These things stopped flying just before I can remember going to airshows with my family, and so I’ve never seen one in the air. There’s only one place in the world where this can be seen, and that’s in South Africa (one of the things I have to do someday). So why bother going to Binbrook this weekend to photograph an aircraft on the ground? It’s the sheer power of the thing. As anyone who has ever been near a Lightning when it is running will tell you, it’s incredible. Keith Hartley, who flies the Lightnings (lucky chap) at Thunder City in South Africa describes it as “strapping yourself to a pair of rockets and then lighting them”.

This weekend is the first time in 2 years that this particular lightning has had its engines running, and there is hope that the afterburner on one of the engines will be lit as it has been the painstaking work of a good friend of mine to get everything into working order. Will it light? Who knows? And half of the fun is the anticipation that it might! I’ll get some photos up next week. Suffice to say that tomorrow is a very rare opportunity, and one that I jumped at the chance of taking.