From my notes

We arrived at the station where I tried to buy a Day Rover, unlimited travel on both the electric train and the steam train. “It’s a special event” said the unshaven man at the counter. “I can do you a return to Ryde and you just get off at Smallbrook Junction.” I started to ask about the event but Anne interrupted. “So she’s got a ticket to Ryde?” The man nodded with a straight face and I found myself unable to ask questions as I tried not to laugh aloud. I got the tickets and we waited for the train.

As we bumped our way along the line, Anne went through the brochure, “Day Out with Thomas” – fun-packed day with the famous blue engine and his friends. Oh joy.

I’m finally getting around to organising my photographs and the shots from the Isle of Wight are rapidly appearing on Flickr:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/landing/sets/72157600034671389/

Did you know there was an Isle of Wight County in Virginia? I first realised that I might have gone astray when I saw that “the Isle of Wight Museum offers Indian artifacts, Civil War memorabilia, prehistoric fossils from the nearby James River, and a re-created nineteenth century country store.”

And no, it’s not an island although it does at least have a port.

The weather played along: I was able to fly every evening last week. A minor hitch came up with the the plane being an N-reg (registered in the US). We sorted it out by using this darling TB10, a friendly, light plane that seemed eager to please; not something I’d ever say about the Saratoga!

The navigation was a lot less exciting than I’d hoped, looking out at lights with a map on my lap:

“What’s that up there?”
“Er, Oxford? No, no, give me a second. Banbury?”
“Yep, what’s that road up there then?”
“Um, M4?”
“Correct again. Follow it.”
“OK.” I lined the plane up with the pretty twinkly red lights of stationary traffic and hoped that Alistair wouldn’t make me turn off onto a roundabout.

Of course, there is more to it than that. Distances are a completely different perspective: we could see Birmingham from 2400 feet above Oxford, something that would never happen during the day. Line features look very different. Roads are good. Rivers and railway lines? Not so much. Watch for black-outs: if you can’t see lights, there’s a good chance you are about to fly into cloud … or, worse, a mountain. As for an engine failure? Pray.

The airfield stayed open until 8 and twice we were the last ones there, the runway lights turning off behind us as we landed. It felt so final.
We finished just before the weather began to turn; snow was forecast for the following evening.

So now I have my night rating and I can fly on instruments … but only if it’s dark.

Next week I’m back in the saddle, getting to grips with the Saratoga and all her quirks after a quiet winter. I’ll be flying at Kidlington in Oxford, as they are friendly to general aviation, convenient from London, and have lights.Night rating, here I come.

Flying VFR at night is, well, as different as night and day. You have a dependence on your instruments which is simply not there for daytime flying. You need to understand airport lighting which is irrelevant on bright sunny days. There’s also a change of perspective of the runway. I’ve landed just before dusk at an airfield with lights on and completely misjudged my height on the approach and then again on the flare. This was a runway I knew well, it just looked completely different. I can only imagine how “different” it would look if I couldn’t see the surrounding land.

In the UK, if you wish to fly at night you have to have a separate rating. Unlike the US, PPL training carries no requirement at all for flying on instruments.

You can’t complete a night rating as a part of your PPL: you must have a minimum of 50 flying hours of which 20 hours must be as Pilot in Command and 10 of those hours must be post-qualification. It’s not a particularly onerous requirement but it does mean you should be comfortable with basic flying before learning a new viewpoint.

I have just reached 100 hours* as Pilot of Command so this is hardly an issue. I’ll be meeting with the ever friendly and patient Alistair, with whom I managed to bury the plane the last time we flew together. I’m quite intrigued by the idea of night navigation, of which we must do at least 1 hour. I want to aim for some place with lots of lights, if I can.

The risk is the weather: March in England isn’t known for its clear starry nights, although with sunset before dinner it means we should get a decent amount of flying each evening. The summer months are light until 21:00, long after the flying instructors have all been tucked into their beds.

It’s good at the moment though so, fingers crossed, it’ll last until next week.

*It seems like I should have done something special — or at least landed somewhere for that 100th hour. It actually slipped by completely unnoticed in the middle of a four-hour flight somewhere over southern France.

Vraic is seaweed and seaweed, on Jersey, is life.

The agriculture on Jersey, including the famous Jersey Royal potato, owe their success to the fertilising from the sea.

The harvest lasted around two months in the Spring and records as far back as 1299 show that it was frequently the cause of quarrels and criminal charges.

In 1608 an act was passed banning knitting during the vraicing season to ensure plenty of hands for the harvesting.

Jersey retains laws to regulate the harvesting of vraic including the enchanting second article which “forbids the carrying of vraic in boats or by means of a net, other than on the coast of Noirmont, before the third day after the beginning of the permitted harvesting season.” It may be useful to know that exceptions are made for areas which are impassable to carts.

“Grease the land with a good lick of vraic and you can’t go wrong” was the best advice that entomologist Gerald Thomas believes he has ever received. He’s recommending that Jersey return to the traditional harvesting of kelp from their seas to use and sell as fertiliser. But will they allow knitting?

References:

• Boy and cart gathering vraic
• Société Jersiaise Vraic page (in English)
• Jersey Law Review (search on vraic to find the acts)

As a result of a new link (or two) to this site, I’ve been asked, rather directly, what exactly it is that I’m doing. I wrote up this bio/description the other day which hopefully explains:

I am a 39-year-old German-American (brought up in both countries) currently living in Spain with my British boyfriend and very confused son. After I received my Private Pilots License, I found I wasn’t keeping the hours up without a goal. My boyfriend set the challenge: fly to every possible island in the British Isles.

I have identified 38 islands with usable runways within the geographical British Isles, from Jersey  off the coast of France to the icy  Faroes, located halfway between Iceland and Norway. Ireland and the Aran Islands lie to the West and the Scottish Shetlands are my unexpected Eastern boundary.

Highlights include Lundy in the Bristol Channel (population 7); Mainland, an intriguingly named island in the Scottish Orkneys; Barra in the Outer Hebrides with a runway only available at low tide and Walney Island in English Cumbria, which appears to have no redeeming value whatsoever.

So if you are interested in flying, travelling, British culture or writing, you should find something here for you over the next few months as I get back to the master plan after hibernating all winter.

Meanwhile, I’m happy to add an FAQ to the sidebar but I need some questions! So leave me a comment if you have any. :)