Checking his log book, Will informed me that he’d last flown into Newquay nine years ago and that was as a commercial pilot. Apart from that, neither of us had ever been there, until Monday last week when we took Charlie out for the day.
We had decided that we didn’t want to go too far as we wanted some time down-route but we were really spoilt for choice. I wanted to head to the South West whereas Will would have preferred to go somewhere with a large model railway shop – Sheffield for example. Luckily for me, he took one look at my face and thought better of it!
The day couldn’t have been better for flying. It was the hottest day of the year thus far but 3500+ ft up and with the cool air coming through the vent, it was like having air conditioning. Perfect!
It was also ‘Freedom Day’ so we were expecting it to be busy with everyone taking a day off and making the most of it, as we had. But it was the complete opposite. For once, there were no queues at the fuel pumps or the hold, and we could pretty much go straight onto the runway. During the flights there and back, I think we could count on one hand the amount of aircraft we saw.
The route down took us over the Brecon Beacons to Swansea, across the Bristol Channel where we climbed to an altitude of 7000ft (which would give us enough of a glide slope to get us back to land if the engine failed), along the North Devon coast, over the River Camel and into Newquay.
When Will had rung Newquay earlier with prior notice of our arrival, we’d been asked if we needed a taxi to get into town. Sure enough, our flight had been tracked in and as we got to the club house, just after watching a Loganair Embraer ERJ land, the taxi was there waiting. Not only that, but we were asked if we needed fuel and by the time we got back later, it was already done. The service there is truly second to none.
Newquay town centre was about a 20 minute taxi ride away. Apparently en route we passed Rick Stein going the other way, but I was looking at the views out of the window and by the time I’d registered what the taxi driver was saying and turned round to have a gawp, Mr Stein had long gone.
We eschewed all the fish and chip shops for lunch. The heat was continuing to beat down and Newquay was pretty packed. We considered going to Walkabout which overlooked one of the bays but decided to continue walking towards the beach to see if there were any other contenders. Now, about a year ago I would have never have dreamt this would happen, but Will pointed out an actual vegetarian café and wondered if we should eat there. So we did, and it was delicious.
Our flight back took us on a different route: straight over Plymouth and to Brixham, turning at Berry Head then following the coast past Torbay and reaching land at Sidmouth before heading towards Bristol airspace. We had arranged with my mum and sister that we’d fly over their house and do a couple of orbits. They could track us on Flight Radar and watch out for us – that was the plan. As it was, by the time we got there, Will was already on the radio to Bristol and we had no choice but to skirt their village, keep our altitude, abandon any idea of circling round and head straight through, keeping to the east of the runway at Bristol Airport. We heard later that mum and sister could hear us but couldn’t spot us. Next time we’ll do it the other way round so we’ll get out of Bristol’s way first.
A Pilot's Companion 