Concorde Flypast with Vulcan
Witness statements seldom agree in every detail. It all depends on the point of view. It was twenty five years after this 1991 event that I discovered something new about the spectators’ impression of this historic, one-off and never to be repeated event. But first, the lead up to this story . . .
Our joint guest speakers at the 2016 Concorde Dining Society dinner included Martin Withers, the pilot of the first Vulcan to successfully bomb the Falklands runway, after a very long and complex operation, followed by the eight hours back, during which he slept well, he told us. His colleague was another experienced Vulcan professional, involved in Vulcan display flying, who also had his own tales of everyday military derring do.
Everyone involved in training likes enthusiasm in a student, and as such he managed to hitch a ride with the leader of a Jet Provost 4 ship instructors’ formation lesson, exactly as mentioned in this story proper. All formation flyers with limited engine performance know that the box man has to get up close under the leader’s tail in a loop in order not to get left behind. During this sweaty instructor training session there was a close encounter of the fourth kind, and our follow-up after-dinner speaker found himself in a JP without a tail. He described the rather sedate and indeterminate way this modified aircraft floated about, and started to ask the CFI what to do next – but the CFI had gone, so he ejected, similarly. Great stories, but the historic Vulcan and Concorde flypast of 1991 was not mentioned. There is no reason why such a mundane event should have featured, but the Vulcan connection rekindled interest among some members so I wrote the following report in the interests of fast-disappearing history.
Prior to the GAPAN (Guild of Air Pilots and Air Navigators) 1991 (June 23rd) garden party John Hutchinson asked me if I would arrange and carry out a Concorde flypast with the sole airworthy Vulcan at this event at North Weald.
I said yes and first wrote to my aerobatic and airshow acquaintance Barry Tempest, then in charge of CAA Display Authorisation, explaining what I intended to do. I felt that, although this large aeroplane event was not quite in the same league as the assortment of usual suspects, Barry would be a suitable first step in facilitating this rare and, as history would have it, unique and historic flight – to whatever extent his influence extended.
Our CAA inspector John Oliver, himself someone of catholic aviating experience, phoned me to ask what I intended to do. The fleet policy was that there would seldom be free Concorde flying – someone had to pay – and in this case the exploit would be financed by a dedicated charter flight with no supersonic, pitched at the Vulcan Supporters’ Club. My plan was to fly us all to Honington, a disused airfield not far from Waddington, rendezvous overhead with the Vulcan, flown by David Thomas, pick him up in formation as agreed and fly to North Weald, via overhead Stansted, continuing in a straight flypast at North Weald. The track Honington-Stansted-N.Weald conveniently goes along the centreline of both Stansted and N. Weald’s runways, so navigation would be simplicity itself. Having passed the garden party tent we would make a line abreast pull up and break right and left, going our separate ways.
John said “I’m completely happy with all you’ve told me. Write it all down, give yourself some weather limits and send it to me,” which I did.
I arranged to go to RAF Scampton to discuss the stately if unusual event with Dave Thomas – I even took a desktop model Concorde with me. We met and I explained who I was, something of my non-airline experience and what we might do. He soon stopped me, said he was completely happy with the project, was not concerned with spotting points on the Concorde (beginners’ stuff), would fly in my number three position (left) so he could sit in his right hand seat (throttles on the left) and I should fly a 30⁰ banked circle for him to join up. What could be simpler? “What speed would you like?” I asked. “200kts”, he said. I was surprised. That is slow for a Concorde. 300 and something would be nice for us – 250 anyway. No; 200 was the ageing Vulcan’s fatigue life speed so that was it.
He had arranged for me to have a ride in a Tucano with one of his staff – “to check if I’m a wally, I bet”, I said. No, he said, just a ride, and off he went to lead a 4 ship Jet Provost formation lesson for instructors. The Tucano is intended to simulate the fast jet cockpit feel, and has 1400 hp, but it felt heavy for its size and needs it. The solid ride at a respectable speed fitted the bill, and the controls felt right for the low level cross country. It did aerobatics, but felt like what it was, and the students must have enjoyed the change to the Hawk. I have not flown the Pilatus equivalents of the Tucano, which start with the PC7, escalating to today’s 21, but know some people who have, though will not do any guessing here.
So far so good – everything fixed, I thought - then, as the days progressed, messages came from our Concorde office, adding various operating restrictions required by the CAA. This was to be a public transport flight, it is true, but my only recollection of the civil law about formation flying is that both pilots must agree to it. My experience of this piloting skill, albeit in much smaller aircraft, assures me that there is a basic rule for safe formation flying: you either do it properly or not at all. And the properly includes both pilots knowing what they are doing, and can maintain a suitable position on a reliable leader (possibly the best formation flyer in the team – believe it or not); in fact there’s nothing more uncomfortable than the informal approaching of each other by those who are not familiar with all of the above.
As our second speaker pointed out at last Friday’s dinner, too close can obviously lead to damage; and too far away is quite difficult - the relationship of the individual aircraft becomes unreliable - but inputs from the Authority started to add anti-proximity limits to this exploit, increasing in steps as judgments went up the CAA ladder from flying to politics. First 100 meters, then 200m then 300. Are we appearing at the same show? Possibly not. I phoned Dave and explained the problem. I proposed that we proceed as discussed until after passing Stansted. Then I would call him out to what he estimated as the required distance as we appeared to the spectators.
The whole flight went to plan. I cannot remember our route after takeoff from Heathrow, but it clearly involved leaving controlled airspace and proceeding north east to Honington. On the way we descended and reined in our rocket so as to arrive over the deserted field at 1500ft and a gently shuddering 200kts, 10⁰ nose up – pointy nose all the way down for best visibility. The weather was miserable – roughly on my limits of 1500ft and 5km, with wispy scud and intermittent rain. Is this going to work, I thought, looking around the bleak East Anglian landscape and empty sky. ‘There it is” said copilot Tony Yule (the adj.). I duly turned and the camouflaged Vulcan slid underneath and inside us to join up.
I did not meet any of our hundred passengers, a number of whom were fans from Waddington and Scampton, but by all accounts they were enjoying the champagne-fuelled novelty ride. It was not rough as we trundled along, and my plan gave us about 15 minutes of straight flight from Honington to North Weald, giving Dave time to settle in and get the feel of suitable positions. The light Vulcan, virtually nose level at 200 kts, looked magnificent in the dull lighting against the green remote-looking countryside drifting past, with a special wet day effect created by the condensation streaming from his airbrakes. The majestic sense of presence and formation solidity of these two hefty machines flying along together was rather splendid, and something I hadn’t anticipated. The comfortable position is about a Vulcan wingspan between wingtip tracks. It is true some non-aviating passengers were intrigued by the sight, including Vulcan crew waving behind the pilot’s side window. It was our PR man Ian (Mc)Smith who volunteered the explanation that the Concorde windows had a magnifying effect, and Copilot Tony Yule had been a Vulcan pilot himself. Our unflappable engineering manager, Dave MacDonald, drove the panel. It was a suitable crew.
Stansted said we looked magnificent as we flew overhead, then as N Weald appeared I told Dave he had to move out as specified. As the GAPAN tent slid past I called him back up, and as he drew abeam slowly raised the Concorde’s nose and called the break, at which we pealed off in opposite directions, going for maximum noise. Our reheat flames disappeared into cloud, and the Vulcan flew around to entertain those at the event. The gig was over.
Apparently the garden party, huddling in their tent in the disappointing weather were convinced the show was off, and many did not see much of it, but I did hear that it was a very evocative moment for those who did – no pictures from the ground, unfortunately. The climb with a brief burst of reheat resulted in a few champagnes in laps, but this added to the hilarity. We had plenty on board anyway.
There was a counter attack from the CAA, always keen to contribute to aviation safety, and communication came to our office asking if I was satisfied that the required conditions had been met. The current Stansted actual weather agreed with my 1500ft and 5km (nothing about rain) and as for formation distance: well, my wing man was a military professional and current CFS staff member, was well-briefed – by a personal visit no less - and I was leader. I had no control over where he put his aircraft; I led in exemplary easy-to-follow fashion. Was it fun? Of course.
What I found out in 2016
I had never seen a photograph of this flypast taken from the ground. Was there such a thing? None has emerged so far, but I spoke to a Guild member who had been there, and appears to be one of the few who braved the drizzle and ventured from the tent to see the aircraft at this display. No photographs, sadly, yet again, but what he said next amazed me, and explained quite a lot. “You came out of cloud just as you were abeam us.”
Out of cloud, in company with another large machine supposedly distanced by 300 yards! How much flying in cloud did the watchers think we must have already done? The mind boggles! Small manoeuvrable aircraft may fly superclose in the dense fog of cloud as a means of staying together or getting down, often as a last resort. In fact we had not flown in cloud at all while together, but the observer’s statement did remind me that between Stansted and North Weald, with the display airfield in sight, patches of low cloud started to pass underneath – tops 1,000ft, perhaps. We continued to fly at 1,500 ft with adequate visibility and sight of the ground (most of it), but from a fixed position on the ground these patches, encouraged by the rising Chilterns perhaps, might have given the impression of solid cloud from 500 ft up, except for a lucky hole over half of North Weald airfield.
I can now understand the CAA spy’s reaction to our surprise appearance, and a challenge about the weather, but there was no follow up, or personal inquisition. Maybe the garden party had already experienced an hour of drizzle and a persistent low cloudbase over their marquee: display flying off. I’m not surprised at their conviction that we were not coming. Sometimes, collective opinion based on the same limited information can convince all of those present. Inadequate communication was unfortunate, but someone’s handheld on company frequency is a bit anoraky for an august gathering of professional worthies.
From my own point of view this was an unusual Concorde ‘mission accomplished’ opportunity, and the ease of arrangement with the military involvement a delight. Why can’t airline life be like this? Despite the unfortunate lack of audience participation our passengers had a great day out, and our cockpit crew of Tony Yule, Dave MacDonald, Ian Smith and Louisa Knapp (aerobatic advisor) could not have been better suited for something a bit different. One thing’s for sure: you will never see the like again.
Original video by Crashgate4 on YouTube