Mark brought his instrument panel for us to check out. Like the rest of the machine (pictured left), Mark has done a quality work on the panel. It is all neatly wired and ready for installation. The Predator should be running real soon now.
Speaking of running, Tim's RAF 2000 is! However, the initial engine start was more eventful than planned. Whoever assembled this engine put a plug on top in a mounting hole instead of the nearby hole that goes deep into the engine. The oil pump worked well and pumped oil all over. After cleaning up the mess, the engine would only run for 5 minutes and then start missing. It turns out the electronic ignition module was bad. The replacement is now in and the engine finally runs great! Now for the break-in...
Gary is planning to build the next version of his horizontal
stabilizer this winter and Tim will be adding one to his RAF as well.
This new model will be even bigger than the current one pictured here.
Like this one, it will be tube and fabric construction.
We passed around the current mailing list and received several updates and corrections. I will include the final list in an upcoming newsletter for your reference. If you move or have any other corrections to make, please send them to Tim Witham. Also, if you prefer to read the newsletter on-line and don't need or want a hard copy mailed to you, let me know that as well.
Departed San Jose at five to reach Marysville at seven thirty. Boanerges waited for my attention, ready to bear me aloft. But first he wants a thorough preflight. No oil spot underneath, but a few drops along the lower edge of the radiator, collected from the film that coats much of the engine. I wiped everything within reach to make fresh seepage easy to spot. Roll outside the hangar. Clean the rotor, taking time for a good look, all the while hearing that silly ditty - how does it go? - This is my rifle; this is my gun; my rotor's my friend when I'm ready for fun. Or something like that. Re-tethered the rotor.
After the walk-around, I reconnected the battery ground strap. Shouldn't have to do this, but there's just enough drain to pull down the battery in the course of a week. The problem will be cured with the complete rewire at annual inspection when strobe and redundant fuel pump are installed. Now we're ready for flight. Pump throttle once, turn the prop, switch on, and Boa's engine comes to life enthusiastically on the third pull. Helmet on, start rotor, and we're off.
Today I misjudged the initial rotor speed. The hand-start was inadequate; it swiftly became clear that the rotor would not reach autorotation. Stopped short of the taxiway, attached the bungee restraint to the stick, released the seat belt, and rose to pat up the rotor. The exercise soon raised a sweat, and I was glad for the early morning cool. This time the rotor spun up nicely with forward motion.
No traffic in sight; the entire airfield belongs to me. At the end of the taxiway a careful look-around verifies that I am the only traffic, so I add power and roll onto the runway, and watch as the magic of autorotation turns the rotor into a blur. A bit more power, and Boa lifts his prow to tell me he's ready to fly. All right, my friend. Let's go. Ease off the back pressure so the mains won't follow the nose wheel into the air just yet, and push on more throttle. Boa lifts off gently, I correct lightly for drift, and we're flying.
And now what? An abundance of alternatives comes to mind. Might try a couple of touch-and-goes on the remaining runway, or land on the taxiway, or even between rows of parked airplanes. As lord of the airport this morning, I have the freedom to indulge in any whimsey that's physically possible. Well, once maybe. Actually not at all, because someone willing to visit grief on this paradise might see and disapprove. Instead I ease on more power to climb out steeply, but still not full power, for Boa has lots of reserve. We rise smartly to pattern altitude and take a turn about the circuit to set up a practice approach with engine at idle. At two hundred feet a bit of power arrests the descent; a swift pass to midfield as the engine comes gradually to full power, and we rocket upwards as Boa strains his utmost. This time we leave the pattern to see what's happening in the rest of the world.
A car moving south at steady pace on the road below offered opportunity for sport. At three hundred feet, I maneuvered Boa's shadow from right and rear till it perched squarely on the car. Like instrument flight, attention had to be carefully apportioned among several variables: forward horizon, slip string, shadow on car, altitude, airspeed, shadow on car; and repeat; now a neck swivel to check for aerial traffic, and then the entire cycle again. The driver slowed, but not enough to move me outside old Sol's invisibility cloak. The shadow slid back onto the car. But no need to overdo. The driver already has a good UFO story to tell, and those covert up-sun glances will surely miss my departure as I veer off towards the river.
Down on the river a boat motored upstream; two Sunday fisherfolk looked up and waved as we crossed the river. Tempted to drop down and skim along the water, but I remind myself again that Boa is an experimental gyroplane engaged in Phase One flyoff. Even though the engine hasn't missed a beat in the dozen hours since rebuild, I must be prepared for unplanned stoppage; since a water landing would surely be a total loss, I stay above the levee that parallels the river, the road running along its crest affording landing opportunity. Just have to keep an eye out for the powerline that crosses near the airport.
There it is, comfortably below. I work back towards the airport, enter the pattern, and try several times for that smooooth landing, but find fault each time. The planned hour is ended; time to taxi in, stop engine, and secure the rotor. Takes a while for the grin to fade.
PRA Chapter 5 Newsletters are also available on-line at:
http://www.quiknet.com/~twitham/gyro/pra5/Timothy D. Witham <twitham@quiknet.com> Last modified: Tue Sep 14 21:36:39 PDT 1999