One of the more bizarre aspects of my existence is the dichotomy between my work and home lives. I can go weeks where I rarely seem to leave my desk, writing press releases and features from afar, just a few hundred words of puff that I can fit in around the school run and the vagaries of being a house husband. During those times, blogging is like a busman's holiday, a diversion to pass the time of day. Then there are the periods of news reportage which see me flying off at short notice to some far-flung, troublesome corner of the globe to write straight forward, factual reports of events such as earlier this year when I was based in Baghdad. Internet access is widespread, and I see and hear things which lend my blog a different hue. More frequently though, it's the features assignments that land on my desk with no certainty attaching other than that they will take me away on a journey, both geographical and intellectual. My recent absence from here is as a result of one such event. Whilst news reportage is the bread and butter of any journalist's work, it's the features that really inspire and encourage the passion which lies within, enabling us to really dig deep and immerse ourselves in the life of another. When an editor calls with a prospective feature for me to undertake, or I secure agreement for the publication of copy which is the result of my own inspiration, I feel a little like a cartoon character of my youth, a modern day Mr Benn with a twist. Inspiration strikes, I make a phone call, send a couple of emails, and the door opens on an adventure that leads me away from home to undertake a journey into someone else's life. I've written before of the Byzantine manner in which the inspiration for a feature idea can strike me. Sometimes, my natural sense of curiosity is pricked and I see a story in the everyday, as in the case of Bombay Sapphire Gin. Sometimes, my thirst for knowledge and lateral thinking combine and I seek further education in something I simply want to know more about, as in the case of a recent feature I produced about Martin Baker Ejector Seats. Occasionally, my attention is captured by something ostensibly straightforward that leads into something else altogether. As in the assignment that I've just returned from. One sunday last summer, I was sat idly channel surfing when I happened upon TV coverage of ITV's Formula Woman. This was a one-make race series with 16 female drivers selected from over 10,000 applicants. Watching this, one lady in particular caught my eye - 25 year old Juliette Thurston. Flying Officer Jules Thurston, RAF: Seated in the cockpit of her BAe Hawk T1 Juliette, as well as displaying a bit of talent behind the wheel of a car, is also one of the Royal Air Force's most talented fast-jet pilots. She's an officer and combat pilot instructor with 208 Squadron, based at RAF Valley in Holyhead at the north-western most tip of Wales from where she teaches the combat pilots of tomorrow how to use a fast jet as a weapons platform. Flying Hawk T1 aircraft, her and her colleagues introduce students to the finer points of low-level flying, a skill which leaves no margin for error and where just 150ft separates forward flight at a speed of 7 miles per minute from the ground and almost certain death - opportunities for pulling the handle to eject are non-existent in the time it takes for a crash to occur at low level. Just before the end of October, armed with a commission, I drove the 300 miles to North Wales accompanied by my photographer Matt to meet with Juliette as a guest of 208 Squadron. The plan was to interview her, stay at the Officers' Mess overnight and drive back the following day. But this proved to be an assignment with a difference - with, er...'wings' on, if you like. In essence, Jules felt that the best way for me to get a handle on what she does was to put myself in the role of one of her students. So after being issued with full flying kit and gifted with the other elements that constitute a fighter pilot's uniform, I wandered the base talking to people and soaking up as much information as I could. The following day was spent at the base's Hawk Synthetic Training Facility where I received instruction in the rudimentary aspects of low-level flying this agile jet aircraft in a £20m simulator encompassing a fully representative Hawk cockpit inside a huge projection dome with a 270degree field of view provided courtesy of a multi-channel high resolution projection display. Here, I successfully managed to take off, fly a low-level sortie through the valleys of North Wales' countryside, before loosing off a missile from the underwing pylons and watching it snake at high-speed to destroy a cottage in the Welsh hills (well, enough English holiday homes were set on fire by Welsh nationalists in the early 80s - it was the least I could do). I even managed to land without crashing. Suitably impressed, she delivered the coup de grace. "Let's arrange a date for you to come back and stay for a couple of days and you can do this for real. How's that grab you?" Three years ago, providence shined upon me and placed me somewhat surprised and overawed in the rear seat of a Tornado F3 fighter jet as it flew me supersonically at low level over the North Sea. That was the realisation of a dream for a boy who had grown into a 33 year old frustrated combat pilot. I thought myself beyond privileged to have at least touched that dream and made it real. Now, I was being given the opportunity to do it again. I drove back that evening hardly able to contain my enthusiasm. The following week was spent on holiday in the lake district. A non-stop week immediately after our return which saw me on assignments the length and breadth of the UK before returning on Monday back to RAF Valley to play at being a combat pilot. I eschewed driving this time, relaxing in the First Class compartment of an ultra-modern Pendolino train courtesy of Virgin Trains. Kitting Up: Zipping myself into a pair of anti-G trousers at the Quartermaster's. The hose leading from my adbomen doesn't lead to a colostomy bag - it's the connector that carries air to the G-pants! (c) Chryogen Arriving on Monday afternoon, I collected my flying kit, booked in at the Officers' Mess and enjoyed a few drinks in the bar with some of the squadron's pilots before being met by Jules and heading off base for a meal. On our drive back to base in her Audi S3, I got a first-hand demonstration of the skills that allowed Jules, along with 15 others to beat 10,000 women to a driving seat in the Formula Woman series - she's fast! Early Tuesday morning, it was off to the see the Station Medical Officer for a thorough once-over before being passed as fit to fly. After that, I sat in on one of three weather briefings by a Met Office scientist at the squadron's HQ. This was followed by our flight brief at which all those involved in our sortie laid out and agreed upon the rules, procedures and operations to be followed for that specific op. Me, Pensive: Listening intently at the pre-flight brief (c) Chryogen. Our sortie was scheduled for a 12:10 departure as part of a 'battle pair' flying with our wing man as part of a tight formation. We were routed to transit across the Irish Sea and across to Barrow-in-Furness before breaking off and dropping to low level across the Lake District as a pair, flying through the valleys, across the lakes and over mountains, hugging the terrain. Military aircrews fly at low level for a number of reasons, but principally, because hugging the terrain means flying below the operational effectiveness of enemy air defence systems - in short, flying below radar cover. In peacetime, training for this is conducted at any of the UK's 18 designated Low Flying Areas, at speeds of 450 knots and at heights ranging from 100-250ft. At 11:00, I walked into the aircrew locker to where my flying kit waited. Dressing first in RAF-issue thermal cotton undergarments (required for its effectiveness against fire), next up was my flying suit and boots followed by the anti-G trousers ( increased G-Forces as produced by the tight, high speed manoeuvres fast jets are capable of causes our blood to gets heavier. Our hearts have evolved to pump blood round our bodies against a force of just 1 G and when this G-Force increases, our hearts are literally not strong enough to push our blood into our brains so instead, it pulls on the veins in our legs. As blood drains away from our brain it begins to shut down. We first lose our colour vision, then our field of view shrinks until, eventually, we lose consciousness. Anti-G trousers contain special bladders which fill with air and squeeze the legs, allowing you to remain conscious in higher gravity situations). Over my top half, I wore an officers' flying jacket and over this, I strapped into my Life Survival Jacket or 'Mae West'. Finally, I collected my Mark 4A Flying Helmet and oxygen mask, together with a pair of super-thin capeskin leather aircrew gloves and met up with Jules to walk out to the Hawk and get strapped in. Jules: Completing paperwork in the ops room prior to our sortie (c) Black Rat The BAe Hawk is not merely a good-looking aircraft; It is agile and handles well, with a clean responsive 'feel' to the controls, and is regarded as great fun to fly - something that had been borne out by my sortie in the simulator. Its single Rolls Royce turbofan produces 5,200lb of thrust which, allied to a light weight of 18,390lbs fully laden is sufficient to push the aircraft to a maximum speed of 658mph, although it can achieve transonic speed in a 60 degree dive. Certainly, it's sufficiently agile and capable that the Hawk has been the mainstay of the RAF's illustrious Red Arrows display team since it replaced the ageing Folland Gnat in 1980. To say I was looking forward to flying the aircraft, putting into practice the elements I'd learned in the sim would be an understatement although I have to confess, based on past experience of high-G, I was feeling a little apprehensive to say the least! Photocall: Jules poses outside our Hawk before strapping in. It had been a dark and overcast morning but almost as soon as Jules and I walked out to our jet, the clouds parted to reveal blue skies and bright sunshine. We walked ahead of the others to give us time to effect a photocall, and for me to get strapped into the Hawk's rear cockpit. It's a cramped affair, although the canopy, with it's tell-tale pattern shaped-charge running its length, is huge allowing exceptional all round visibility. I lowered myself into the Martin Baker Mk 10B Ejection Seat and secured myself via the 5-point harness, next attaching my leg restraint lines to the ejection seat (in the event of an ejection, these would pull my legs into the seat). On my left side, I attached the umbilical cord from the G-trousers to a plate that connected me to the aircraft, along with the oxygen hose and comms cable. Finally, I put on the helmet and oxygen mask, followed by my gloves. As the canopy was lowered and the order given to start engines, communication between Juliet and myself was via the intercom, the mics in our oxygen masks picking up the sound of our collective breathing, making it audible though the helmet's speakers. Within minutes, my mind would screen that element of sound out - but I made a mental note that if I needed to throw up later in the flight, Jules might appreciate my turning the mic off before doing so! Jules kept up a constant dialogue as we taxied out alongside the other jets in our flight. On the order to do so, I removed the firing pins to arm first the explosive charge in the canopy, followed by that for the seat itself and placed them in their respective slots on the console ahead of me. Taxiing Out: Jules (front) and I leave the pan for RAF Valley's main runway and a flight of fancy. We were cleared for take off as soon as we turned onto Valley's main runway, the sparse, high level clouds affording us a view of deep blue and bright sunlight above. We held briefly on the threshold to the runway, the Hawk's wheel brakes straining against the 5,200lb of thrust developed by its single Rolls-Royce / Turbomeca "Adour 151" turbofan. After a slight pause, we surged forward in tandem with our wing man, 'rotating' to climb aggressively skywards, joined almost immediately afterwards by the other aircraft in our flight. Wing Man: Climbing out over Anglesey in tandem with our wing man. (c) Black Rat Transiting across the Irish Sea was uneventful and to be honest, there was little to differentiate it from any other flight I've ever undertaken at that stage other than the close proximity of our wing man and the other aircraft in the formation. I took the opportunity to fully appraise myself of my environment and make myself comfortable - a relative term given the layers I was wearing and the limited movement afforded me by the ejection harness (once strapped in, the harness is tightened to draw you down into the seat and keep you there - the benefits outweigh the cost, especially when flying inverted or undertaking the rapid, tight manoeuvres that fast jets are capable of). Despite the air conditioning blasting out cold air on full power, I was already sweating profusely, a combination of the layers I was wearing and the greenhouse effect of sunlight through the canopy. Alien: Self-portrait, 7,000ft and 500 knots over the Irish Sea. Witness the reflection of the clouds in my visor - it might be bright and sunny where we are, but beneath the cloud, at ground level it's distinctly miserable. (c) Black Rat Any discomfort I may have been feeling disappeared immediately we crossed over to the mainland peeling away from the formation with our wing man into a battle pair to drop down through several thousand feet somewhere over Barrow in Furness and level off at 250ft and 450 knots. Which is where the world changed for me. Magic Carpet: Flying abeam of our wing man across a carpet of cloud covering the Irish Sea (c) Black Rat Consider. Perception of speed is a relative thing and your perspective of it is governed by your frame of reference. Travelling supersonic in Concorde for example was meaningless in terms of how it looked from inside because there are no static objects at 60,000ft to act as a reference point. At 250ft above the ground however, you suddenly become very conscious of your surroundings, especially when hills and mountains rise up on either side of you from the valley floor! Road to Nowhere: Flying at 90 degrees to the horizon, 200ft altitude, speed 450 knots through the Borrowdale Valley, Cumbria (c) Black Rat Flying the length of Lake Windermere just above the treetops at 450 knots is an extraordinary experience but as nothing compared to the sudden, violent shift through 45 degrees that saw us flying at 90 degrees to the horizontal and hugging the valley floor through Ambleside. Low level flying is a dynamic affair built on shifting sands and requires immense concentration as the valley floor rises and falls beneath you, hills closing in as the valley changes direction, the odd mountain blocking your path and requiring a pull back on the stick and a sudden increase in power to negotiate. The world outside the canopy is a gorgeous miasma of golds, browns, ambers, greens, the Lake's Autumn colours swirling around in a kaleidoscope of shapes and hues. Suddenly, Ullswater appears below us. At 7 miles long, it will take us less than a minute to travel its length at these speeds. To our right, a series of mountains 2,156ft high, to our left a range 3,116 towers above us. Our wingtips have just the lake's breadth between them and the scree of the mountains either side and the thought occurs to me, at this height, this speed, any major system failure, or a bird strike through the front canopy and it's good night forever - by the time I could react and pull the handle, we'd have ploughed nose first into a watery grave. It's a sobering thought. North of Ullswater, we fly right over Deepdale and the cottage that I'd stayed at with my family just two weeks before. Then, I was watching the fast jets scream past at low level, just another of the many faces craned skywards to catch a glimpse of something so rarely seen in the south. Here and now, I look down through the canopy and see the awed faces of walkers staring up at us on the valley floor. On one mountain path to our right, I sight a group of walkers looking downwards upon us! Break Right: Pulling a 4G turn as we cross the M6 just east of Penrith (c) Black Rat Clearing Ullswater, we break right, heading low over the M6 motorway at Penrith before a hard 6G turn left and across toward Carlisle. We're low, breaking left, right, left again, rising, falling, our wing man alongside and slightly abeam. Low level across fields, over the dome of Center Parcs' Oasis Whinfell Forest. A flock of birds passes us on our flight level some 40 feet to our right and it occurs to me once again just how dangerous low-level flying is. This is what I love about flying - the freedom, go anywhere, do anything, move in three dimensions. It's a dynamic world above. We break hard right, and I feel the anti-G system flood with air, constricting my legs. It tightens and I strain against it as my vision begins to fade, the sustained 5g making me fully five times my normal weight. Holding my camera at arms length is an impossible task and I sense my consciousness fading before suddenly we right ourselves and I'm back. With Sellafield nuclear processing plant on our nose in the distance, we part company from our wing man and peel off alone. I'm feeling significantly less than 100% now, the constant G of low level turns and sudden manoeuvres exacting its toll on my equilibrium. I'm fighting waves of nausea, sweating profusely. I've a frame of reference for this and it isn't getting any easier! Wast Water: Flying right wing down, 150ft above Wast Water with the screes disappering into the water on our right. Contrast this image with this one taken by me just two weeks ago whilst on the ground below our flight path. Little did I know then I'd be seeing the same vista from a different perspective. (c) Black Rat Jules is talking to me over the intercom, keeping my mind focused in between to verbalising potential obstacles such as electricity pylons which, at our height, we're in danger of flying into. As we track south along the coast, I spy Wast Water, my favourite of all the lakes somewhere of to our left. I tell Jules and we break hard left and down. This is something else! We're over the water now, just 150 feet above its surface, the 1500ft high vertical wall of rock known as Wastwater Scree just to our right dropping straight into the lake's south-eastern shore. We fly alongside the point at which I stood just two weeks previous, gazing at the screes. Now, there are others there looking in wonder as we screech alongside them from nowhere and are gone just as quickly. Ahead and to my left, the Wasdale Head Inn and rising majestically on our nose, blocking our path, Scafell Pike - at 3,210ft, England's highest mountain. Wasdale Head from 200ft: The Wasdale Head Inn is visible through the canopy as we pull up to clear Scafell Pike (c) Black Rat) We climb vertically to crest it, breaking hard right across its summit and below us, I see Wrynose Pass snaking away into the distance. We've been flying for over an hour now and as we climb out over the Irish Sea to around 15,000ft, I sense I'm losing the battle with the waves of nausea that are enveloping me. However, it's not just a question of reaching for the conveniently placed sick bag secreted under the map pocket in my G-trousers - I fumble for the switch on the oxygen mask that turns the mic off and fiddle with the release clip that drops the oxygen mask away from my face before I can let nature take its course. Arse, it's beaten me again. So, that'll be no prospect of me making it as a fighter pilot, then. That done, I feel a little better and besides, the views at this height divert my attention to illustrate perfectly just what I love most about aviation. Crossing the Irish Sea, we were pinned below an impenetrable layer of cloud, part of a frontal system moving down from the north. As we fly west, we break through into a different world of bright sunshine, azure, clear skies reaching as far as we can see. It's magical, a universe away from the dark, oppressive world below. Somewhere high above, we reach the edge of the frontal system and it's clear again to the sea below. Frontal System: The leading edge of a weather front over the Irish Sea (just visible in the bottom right below the patchy cotton-wool clouds. Out of shot to our right are clear skies, with Anglesey off in the distance (c) Black Rat. Jules comes over the intercom, "You have control" and I repeat the affirmation. Suddenly, my mind is focused, the last tendrils of the nausea of a few seconds ago brushed aside. "It's all yours", she adds. "Make her fly!". I grasp the throttle in my left hand and ease it all the way forwards, the stick in my right holding us steady as I scan the instruments and watch our speed increase. "Aileron roll in 3...2...1" I warn Jules and flick the stick hard right. In under a second, we've rolled through 360 degrees. I immediately break left and feel the anti-G system squeezing against my legs and abdomen. We're at 90 degrees to the horizontal, max speed in the turn. I pull back on the stick to tighten the turn still further and feel the G increasing. 6G now, but I'm loving it - it's different when I'm at the controls. As a passenger, you're one step behind the events, constantly responding to what's happening, trying to anticipate and the G is a surprise - you don't know how intense, how sustained it will be. In control, you pre-empt, you know what's coming and its intoxicating, a high better than anything I've ever experienced. I thought flying the Tornado F3 was fun, but this is fast-jet flying at another level, the Hawk's legendary agility and benign character a joy. There's a joke within the fast jet community that a Tornado needs several counties to perform a tight turn - this does it on a sixpence. I pull a loop, invert us and then push the stick hard forward putting us into a dive down towards the Irish Sea. With sufficient height and the right angle of attack, this would push us through the sound barrier but we have neither the altitude or fuel left to do this, so I level off and hand control back to Jules for the flight back to Valley. It's been fun but it can't last forever. Alien II - the Sequel: One and a half hours into the sortie as we break for home (c) Black Rat. The island of Anglesey is clearly visible below us almost in its entirety and I spot the runway off in the distance. Jules tells me she's going to take us in at a steep angle of attack to show me just what the Hawk is capable of and we dive down almost vertically onto the runway threshold, pulling up at just 75 ft for a go-around. Traffic in the pattern is busy - there are at least 4 other Hawks flying in our airspace, two ahead of us to land. We bank hard right, flying a lazy circle above Valley, awaiting clearance - which when it comes sees us straight in and down in a perfect landing. She's good, Jules. Really good. Short Finals: Descending to land, just before the threshold to Valley's main runway (c) Black Rat. As she shuts the engine down and raises the canopy, I let my mask drop away from my face gulping in mouthfuls of fresh sea air as I reinsert the pins to make safe the ejection system. My legs are a little unsteady as I descend the steps to terra firma, but my grin belies the way I feel. The nausea is there in the background, I'm drenched in perspiration and I feel tired - oh so tired, but elated. Assignments come and go, and with each one to push the envelope of my imagination still further I think, "It can't get any better than this". But something comes along to up the ante, another dream fulfilled. I learn something, do something, change something and walk away with a different persective, a better understanding of the elements of other people's roles, their lives. I contacted Jules to conduct an interview and she unlocked the door to another of my dreams for me. And if people ask me what's so special, why is my job so different, what can I say? It's things, people like this. The money may be incidental compared to what I used to earn, and more often than not, the fallow times dwarf the profitable ones but you can't have everything in life and there has to be a compromise somehwere. Sod the money. This is what inspires me. I've put together a short film which illustrates perfectly the sortie that I flew. It's a combination of in-cockpit video shot by myself and one of the guys on the squadron, together with some external footage shot by other squadron members on the ground. Five and a half minutes in length and it's in .wmv format at a touch over 9mb in size. Wanna know how it feels to fly low level at 450 knots with hills either side of you? Watch this: A quiet weekend lies ahead for me, the perfect end to what's been a manic week. Arriving home from Wales late on tuesday night, I scarcely had time to unpack before an early morning trek across the capital to a meeting at Heathrow Airport on wednesday, followed by a lunch meeting yesterday with a PR girl to discuss a restaurant launch. Enjoy your weekends - make 'em count, people. Normal service will be resumed here next week.
VALLEY GIRL - A FLIGHT OF FANCY
12.11.04 13:57
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(12.11.04 14:01) Nicely done ;o) |
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(12.11.04 14:12) Bobble: Cheers, hon. :-) |
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(12.11.04 14:16) WoW. How lucky are you... 
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(12.11.04 15:15) FBU: Thank you! But no, I don't know this week's winning lottery numbers. (Ask me tomorrow night though, guarantee to get them right) ;-) |
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(12.11.04 15:23) mystic meg you ain't!
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(12.11.04 15:28) Jealousy. If you're not careful, it eats away at you .. As Blackrat's photographer, being there and "just watching" is something I have to get used to ... but, i remain happy in the fact that i was at Valley for "Round 1", that i flew the simulator too, and also got to meet a thoroughly unassuming & friendly "Adrenaline Girl". This was a thoroughly stunning read. You may have a sweetie - but make sure you brush your teeth. p.s. I am holding you to the promise ... that one day I will get my turn ... |
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(12.11.04 15:28) You're a lucky bugger sometimes, Mr Rat! And bloody brave. Makes me feel nauseous just reading about it! Beautiful photos though, especially the one of Wast Water. Amazing to think you were there just a few weeks before. x |
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(12.11.04 15:35) Welcome Chryogen - another 20Six photographer in our ranks. |
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(12.11.04 15:36) Thanks Bobble. Nice to be here. |
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(12.11.04 15:42) FBU: Only when there's an r in the month. Chryogen: Cheers matey - and for the sweetie, much appreciated. And yes, one day...all things to he who waits, apparently. ;-) Beso: Thank you, hon - it feels like it sometimes, too. Brave I don't know about - foolhardy, yes. And too bloody minded for my own good. Truth to be told, I felt nauseous for the rest of that day, had a splitting headache that carried over to the next morning...Ah what the hell. I knew I'd feel like that, but I could hardly have turned the opportunity down, so it was just something I had to suffer. Thanks for the kind comments about the pix. x |
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(12.11.04 15:44) Bobble: Yeah, sort of - but he's a Canon-boy. I'm working on him to come over to the dark side but he won't have it! |
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(12.11.04 15:56) Are you casting aspersions on us Canon photographers ;o) Really. |
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(12.11.04 15:58) Bobble: Oh God, nooooo!...you're all taking over! Repeat after me: "Nikon Rule, Nikon Rule, Nik..." :-) |
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(12.11.04 15:58) If anyone can canon can |
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Jasmine (12.11.04 16:08) How exciting! Sounds like it completely drained you, but it was worth it in the end, I'm sure. Good post... I'm looking forward to seeing the video over a much faster connection. Cheers! |
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(12.11.04 16:26) FBU: Not in this photographer's hands they can't"! Jasmine: Thanks! |
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Just Me (12.11.04 20:03) How FANTASTIC! OK, now you have impressed me (not that it means much, mind you). GG will be green with envy once he hears of it. Too bad I can't d/l the lil video to the work puter. Well done! Now if you will excuse me, I have to find make up to take this green tint off my face... |
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(12.11.04 20:09) Just Me: Why thank you ;-) Tell GG it's well worth downloading the vid - rather pleased with it, I am. And it's the next best thing to being there - even having done it, I've played the vid none stop since putting it together. |
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(13.11.04 23:04) Astonishing, BlackRat. Not just the experience, but your account of it too. Just recently I was pining for some piece of writing that would whisk me away above the clouds (following the post about flying in my blog). And this is it. And then some. My profound thanks for sharing this with us.
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(14.11.04 04:56) You jammy jammy Bastard You don't realise how many times I've been in the the wilds of the Lake District, Wales or Scotland & seen those shiny black Jets scream over me, past me or beneath me & longed to have a ride in one.I know *what* I'm downloading when I next get on the Broadband at work.
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(15.11.04 00:43) awesome photos.felt almost nauseous...don't like flying much...but that looked awesome. |
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(15.11.04 10:06) Mike: Thanks, fella - your kind words much appreciated. cha0tic: ;-) You and me both, fella - it was the strangest feeling spending a week in the Lakes, watching in awe as countless Hawks screamed past at low level, knowing full well that within seven days, I'd be up there doing it myself. Morethanluck: Thank you - it was awesome indeed and I'm back to trying to invent some new superlatives that will convey in words what I felt up there. |
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Loody / Website (15.11.04 10:27) All I can say is WOW! x |
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noodlum (15.11.04 10:37) Action man! Excellent photos.. |
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(15.11.04 10:57) Lu: Nice to see you here - thanks, hon. x Noolum: Cheers for the compliment, fella - bloody difficult taking pix in fast jets! Got caught out a couple of times with the camera at arm's length when taking the self portraits and we banked into a 6G turn. At almost 5lbs with lens, that D1 suddenly became the equivalent of a 30lbs weight in my outstretched hand! And hats off to the guys who do aerial photography for a living - trying to think straight and work out exposure, f-stops and plan shots whilst inverted at supersonic speeds is a specialists' game - I could barely remember how to walk when we landed after that sortie! nice to see you still around, dude |
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gemmak / Website (15.11.04 15:10) OMG! Yet another dream lived by BR.......that life of someone else's sure is fun.....I feel sick just looking at the pics tho! Hats off to you for doing it.....you lucky sod! Stunning, stunning, pics ...... the description of 'being there' is breathtaking and your pilot is some lady!  )
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(15.11.04 15:26) wow wow wow that looks incredible. you lucky thing. |
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(15.11.04 17:04) Gemma: Tell me about it - if only it was my life, all the time! Thanks for the kind words, and I have to agree - competitive horsewoman, racing driver, combat pilot and down-to-earth, unassuming, modest lady - she really is something. Roach: Why, thank you. Back to my own life for now though - writing, working from home, meeting PRs...thank God for the good times x |
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(16.11.04 11:45) As usual Mr Rat a truly engrossing read. Great video too. Some guys get all the luck..... |
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(16.11.04 15:12) BP: Thanks fella. And whilst I have to accept that yes, I am on more than nodding acquaintance with luck, he does appear to have deserted me this week, instead presenting me with a prima facie illustration of the bizarre chasm that is my working life. This time last week, I was flying myself in a vastly expensive fighter jet at over 550mph - today, I'm writing a 750 word feature about packing tape :-/ |
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(16.11.04 17:49) hmmmm, packing tape huh ??? Oh how the mighty have fallen ???? It's not that wonderous Duck Tape stuff is it ???? |
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(16.11.04 17:53) BP: If only it was - I could at least have found an hook to hang the story from with Duck Tape. No, this one was far duller and nothing like as glamorous as Duck Tape! |
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(16.11.04 20:30) *sigh* packing tape. When will young bands realise that packing tape is no substitute for Gaffa tape. It's for closing boxes. Not taping down your cables. (Sorry about that, I have a professional interest in tape)
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(16.11.04 20:56) cha0tic: Dare I ask?! Anyway, you know what these youngsters are like - their roadies probably run rings around them and bitched too much about the sticky residue that Gaffa tape leaves behind to catch you out and spot-weld your fingers to whatever you've touched. God, you've got me at it now...discussing the respective merits of tape? Heeeelp! |
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(17.11.04 09:08) Its elephant tape they need... |
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(17.11.04 09:30) FBU: Elephant tape? I'm right with you now...can I suggest Busted are first in the queue to be gagged with it? |
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(17.11.04 09:31) Gagged and then RRRIIIPPPED off ? They may never ever have to shave |
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(17.11.04 09:38) FBU: Now you're talking! I like where you're coming from. If that's the case, I think I'll also propose Celine Dion; Gareth Gates; Blue and Noel Edmonds. That should do us for starters :-) |
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(17.11.04 09:46) Only if there's enough tape left for Brian Mcfadden - I heard his song on the radio this morning and it STILL hasnt left my head grrrr |
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(17.11.04 10:29) FBU: Done - we'll wrap twice as much around McFadden's head, just in case the first layer fails - can't be too sure in a case like his! |
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(17.11.04 13:39) FBU: Come to think of it, I think three times might be best - better safe than sorry, right? |
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(17.11.04 14:07) good idea, third time lucky and all that |
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(17.11.04 14:08) hell, why stop at three ? We should use up the whole roll! |
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(17.11.04 14:25) FBU: I see where you're coming from but I have concerns that even the whole roll might be inadequate. What say we use the whole roll, and air-drop them into luxury coach headed over a cliff? Given the coach's capacity, we can then add as many 'celebs' as we like and be doubly sure of their demise. I'll start the bidding with Christopher Biggins and Jennifer Lopez. Ricky Martin can get on board too - any singer who feels it necessary to take his own carpenter on tour has no place on this earth, thank you. :-) |
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(24.11.04 16:08) Blackrat, you write very inspiring articles that make me believe that it is possible to do anything. Indeed, I discovered your blog when I was simply looking for good F3 pics. I used to live in St Andrews, and despite asking the OC of 111sqn very nicely, he wouldn't let me have a spin in a Tornado, so well done. I've also started a blog on 20six... Paulxo I also saw Fg Off Thurston on Formula Woman and Combat Pilot too I believe. She does seem, as you say, really good. Excellent that you are living your dreams. |
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(24.11.04 18:43) Paul: Thank you, very kind of you to say so. Thanks for the sweetie too. |
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(6.12.04 17:05) I've finally downloaded the movie. You absolute jammy twat Good work fella. Works really well with the music. I'm saving it for those rainy days when I need a lift.
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(6.12.04 17:09) cha0tic: Cheers, fella :-) I know what you mean - with these long dark days and the well of ennui I seem to live in for most of them, a quick look at that film always cheers me up. If I can't fly right here, right now, watching film of that blue sky is the next best thing. |
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