Schlagwort-Archive: Piper

Lock Haven community could lose millions if the airport closes.

AOPA is raising concerns about economic impacts and potential grant obligation violations after airport tenants of William T. Piper Memorial Airport in Pennsylvania received letters from the Lock Haven City Council confirming the city’s intent to sell or close the airport.

On August 3, Lock Haven City Manager Gregory Wilson sent a notice to the 43 tenants of Piper Memorial Airport announcing the city was pursuing the sale or permanent closure of the airport because of the high annual costs of keeping it open.

After hearing about the closure and sale threat, AOPA—which supports nearly 8,000 members in Pennsylvania—submitted a Right-to-Know request with the Pennsylvania Department of Transportation Bureau of Aviation to identify the airport’s FAA and state aviation grant obligations. The BOA data confirmed that the city is obligated to the FAA through 2040 because of a $1 million federal grant received in 2020 for ramp and taxiway reconstruction. Piper Memorial Airport has received more than $4 million in FAA airport improvement program funds over the past 20 years, which includes a grant for the acquisition of airport land—a category that obligates the city in perpetuity. This means that the closure of the airport without direct consent of the FAA would be considered a violation of the city’s grant obligations.

In an October 3 letter to Wilson, AOPA expressed concerns over the notice given to tenants, reminded the city of its grant obligations, and proposed alternative solutions to improve economic conditions at the airport. AOPA identified that that city would not only violate federal grant obligations if it pursued a sale but would also create a $13 million loss in economic impact to the community, according to the Penn DOT BOA airport economic impact report. The BOA report also indicates that the airport supports 77 jobs providing $4.4 million in income annually. Piper Memorial Airport is a valuable regional asset that connects the community to national and international networks; provides access to health care; and acts as a staging point for emergency preparedness, whether for human-cased or natural disasters or during a national crisis.

To close the airport, the city would need permission from the FAA to be released from its grant obligations—a feat no public airport sponsor has ever achieved. According to the FAA’s Airport Compliance Manual, “Only benefits to the airport may be cited as justification for the release, whether tangible or intangible. The nonaviation interest of the sponsor or the local community—such as making land available for economic development—does not constitute an airport benefit that can be considered in justifying a release and disposal.”

In lieu of closure, AOPA is urging the city to pursue maximizing the economic potential of the airport, even if that entails transitioning sponsorship of the airport to an airport authority and working with the regional chamber of commerce to utilize vacant airport land that might qualify for the Airport Land Development Zone program—an AOPA-backed program that provides developers with a tax incentive based on the number of new jobs created from development of underused airport land. Additionally, AOPA encourages the city to lean on available resources, from industry consultants to local AOPA members and tenants.

Newly appointed AOPA airport support network volunteer and airport tenant Alan Uhler worked with local pilots to establish an informal airport support group. In their first meeting, they attracted more than 100 tenants, pilots, and airport advocates—all vested in keeping the Piper Memorial Airport open. Source: ‚AOPA‚. Picture: ‚Fly In Vacations‚.

For Fans of the Eternal Ice: Book #33: Glaciers of Switzerland

After flying an interminable amount of hours over years of summer seasons, sorting through almost 40,000 photographs, post-processing and exporting a little over 2,000 images, and then winnowing those 2,000 down to 928 images to represent every glacier in Switzerland, it is done. I have given birth to a book that is almost four times the size of any other photography work of mine, coming in at 542 pages. Writing the book involved more work than the flights. I am sure I forgot a glacier or two, though I digress.

With the release of this work, my focus has changed. In the past, I was more intimately concerned with pricing, distribution, retail presentation, royalty percentages, and a final equilibrium that appealed to the largest number of consumers. In the end, I don’t think pressing all those levers amounts to a hill of beans, so I decided to do something I wanted, which was to make a book large enough that it would break a toe if you dropped it. The glaciers of Switzerland themselves speak with such a visual magnitude that I wished to present them in printed form in the closest similarity that it felt in the air.

All images except a couple were taken in the PA-11. Despite having the PA-18 since 2021, it just worked out that even some of the glaciers I chased in 2022 were still done in the PA-11, as the Super Cub seemed to always be in the wrong country for one reason or another when it came to glacier season. When I step back and look at the project now that it is done, I am left wondering how I did it in that little, underpowered, unheated, under-fueled aircraft, though, well, it is done.

For some reason, in the US has decided to keep the price down dramatically for the time being, so if you’re interested and able to order from that platform, it is the best place to get it for now. Source: ‚Garrett Fisher‚.

Gletscherflugwoche Saanen

Bereits zum siebten Mal verbrachten die aktiven Gebirgspiloten der Cub Freunde Zürcher Oberland eine Trainings- und Ausbildungswoche in Saanen im Berner Oberland. Zu diesem Zweck wurden dieses Jahr sogar erstmalig drei Piper Super Cub auf dem Flugplatz Saanen stationiert. Die zwei Flugzeuge HB-PPJ und HB-PAR wurden ab Speck-Fehraltorf, die HB-PHP ab Flugplatz Lommis nach Saanen verschoben. Ab dort wurden täglich, je nach Wettersituation, Ausbildungs- und Trainingsflüge auf die Gletscher oder Gebirgsflugplätze des Berner Oberlands und Wallis durchgeführt. Auch die Kameradschaft kam nicht zu kurz und die guten Gespräche wurden nach dem Hangarieren bei Raclette oder einem Glas Wein vertieft. Weitere Informationen zum Thema Gletscherflug. Quelle: ‚FGZO‚.

The Six Nation Commute

It all started with getting fat shamed by European aviation regulations. Had I known that Europe takes a different view of weight in an aircraft than America, then I might simply have never moved here, to begin with. I ranted mightily about the bucket of cold water in the face that is weight & balance in the Fatherland in 2016, so there is no need to beat that dead horse. Fast forward to 2022, and that left me with a Super Cub where I needed to get a gross weight increase installed.

The first shop in Switzerland agreed to do it, so I ordered $5,000 in parts. After 2 months of follow-up to get the work scheduled after the parts arrived, they threw their hands up in the air and said that they are too busy….and to come back next year. That started a quest to find a shop that was actually interested in working on aircraft. I went on a wild goose chase of Europe…from Spain to Germany to Poland to Norway….and eventually landed on a reputable shop in the Netherlands. It is a sad reality that true fabric craftsmen are retiring and dying off; I literally seemed to be just 6-12 months behind most recommended professionals in Norway. Every name I got had just hung it up for good and retired. My father warned 20 years ago that this day was coming…and here it is.

After the 2022 binge of glacier flying in Norway, I flew directly to the Netherlands to drop off the airplane, then took a commercial flight back up to Norway, to then drive the car back south. Two months later, my airplane came back with fabric and paint work so utterly superb that one cannot tell both wings were significantly cut, repaired, and partially painted. Everything I asked the shop to do was done superbly, correctly, and, most importantly, without breaking anything else. I could tell far too many stories of mechanics that fix the item in question while breaking other things.

It may be that the discovery of this shop was the first since I became a pilot that a) actually does the work and b) does it correctly. I could further tell incredible stories of how hard it is to get work done. “The engine has a leak.” “It’s an airplane.” “But it is half a quart per hour.” “It’s so hard to find out where it is coming from.” What happens? One finds me engaging in a spell of witchcraft to source the leak.

After picking up the airplane from its significant alteration, the most sensible flight to Switzerland was to fly virtually direct to Saarbrucken, Germany, then south into Switzerland. It heads from the Netherlands through Belgium, then Luxembourg, into the Fatherland, south into France on the west side of the Vosges, and finally into Switzerland. A friend aptly noted that “you flew through six sovereign nations in one day.”

I gave it some thought and, what do you know, that was a record…and I wasn’t even trying.

The thing is, when one finds a shop that meets my impossible criteria of doing work and doing it properly, it is best to milk that cow until it dies. Five months later, it came time for the 100-hour inspection of the airplane. Yet again, Garrett found himself flying over the Jura, to the west of the Vosges, over the origin of Joan of Arc, into the Fatherland, skirting the capital of fishy accounting, and then into the land of chocolate followed by a landing virtually below sea level. A routine inspection metastasized into something far greater, and sometime later, I found myself for the third time in seven months flying through six nations in one day. I suppose it is something of a commute.

I do not speak of maintenance that much on the blog, though it is a brutally expensive, complicated, frustrating, and a sometimes byzantine reality of flying. My grandfather, himself an A&P, used to say that “for every hour in the air, there is five hours on the ground” effectively making said flying possible. With two aircraft in the fleet, those words ring profoundly and painfully true, every time I make this butt-numbing commute to the shop. Source: ‚Garrett Fisher‚.

Sunset in the Alps

I have long grappled with the philosophical question: are my aviation pursuits truly my own, or is there an imbalanced devotion to the legacy of my grandfather? I will never know if or how I would have been attracted to aviation had my first flight not been at age two in the back of his Piper Cub. I further will not have the ability to rewrite history and wonder if I would have been attracted to the Cub to Super Cub taildragger line, or if that is a monument to subconscious programming, having taken more rides than I can count in them. I defer to my own reasoning, at roughly age 10, when I stood in the middle of the runway until my grandfather noticed my presence, forcing him to abort the takeoff run so I could hop in. He was not happy. “You have an airplane,” I thought, “I am not concerned if you’re unhappy. I want to go flying.”

Is it as simple as taking a ride on the plane that is available, or does it go deeper than that? The subject got stirred up recently by two things. I saw a magazine article that had Cessna 120s in it. The 120 has tailfeathers and wingtips with a similar shape to the Cub, and I always liked them as a kid. So maybe it is the airplane model and not just the memory.

About a month ago, I was at an airport when a Bell 47 helicopter landed. It left me with warm fuzzy feelings like all is right in the world. My grandfather bought one when he turned 76. I took one ride in it, itself which was mildly disconcerting owing to the circumstances around the flight (and a pernicious inadequacy of rotor RPM in flight), and that was it. Yet, here I am, looking “nostalgically” at it. Perhaps another vote for legacy worship?

My grandfather said frequently about the PA-11: “it flies the best out of all of them.” I assume he meant the Cub to Super Cub line, though he might have meant out of every airplane model on Earth. It is hard to tell as he often spoke in reduction and by reference, interspersed with fusillades of inarguable condescension. Anyhow, he is correct, that the experience in flight in the PA-11 is literally superior to any other taildragger I have flown, as long as we’re not concerned with speed or cabin comfort.

The thing about all this mountain and glacier flying, along with the photography process, is that it just happened after the airplanes did. The aircraft of my youthful rides gave way to teenage training in the PA-11, which resulted in eventually owning it. A few months into owning the PA-11, I pointed a camera out the window and it was an instant knack for it. One should be honest: it is pure luck that the aircraft is a good platform for photography. If the wing, strut, gear, or anything else is in the way, one can’t use nostalgia or willpower to fix it; it just doesn’t work in that case. It is further luck that these airplanes are nearly perfect for high mountain flying: high lift, high drag, and slow. If I had a Stromberg carburetor with a C-90 engine instead of a Marvel-Schebler with mixture control and an O-200 engine, the PA-11 probably would have never gotten above 12,000 feet, which means I would not have taken it to Colorado, which means none of this would have happened.

Maybe it boils down to the carburetor that happened to be sitting in my grandfather’s hangar.

At the same time, I am if anything persistent. Carburetors can be changed. As John Muir is quoted as saying: “The mountains are calling, and I must go.” I am quite sure after a bunch of spitting and sputtering at high altitudes, I would have found some “airport geezers” (quote from “Flight of Passage” by Rinker Buck) and asked them how to supercharge the damn thing. After telling me that I am an idiot (that has already happened), somebody would have figured it out, and there I would be, wandering around in the flight levels in a Cub.

There is the nagging question of childhood. Sometimes it leaves its mark and that is that. Over 35 years ago, my grandfather had a yellow Piper Cub and a blue and white Super Cub. He would ask me which one I wanted to take a ride in. Recently, it occurred to me that I have a yellow Cub…and a blue and white Super Cub…and ask myself which one to fly. One must confess that glaciers weren’t part of the picture; in fact, my grandfather thought mountain flying was stupid and told me over and over again I would die if I went near them.

After all the introspection and musing, I think two things are true: my grandfather probably figured out the most enjoyable planes and helicopters available to fly. He lived as these machines came to market, whereas I see them only as novel antiques. I also think that I unquestionably would have always been attracted to a Cub and a Super Cub, and I probably would have in every version of alternate history taken them into the mountains and to the glaciers.

I thought it would be fitting after this missive to pictorially demonstrate what I consider to be a pleasant evening flight, which stands in stark contrast of my grandfather’s version of the same. His ideal evening flight is over farm fields, 700 feet above the ground, barely going fast enough for the airplane to stay flying, with the door open. Were I actually to spend any time with warm summer evenings over farm fields, then I would agree! Source: ‚Garrett Fisher‚.

Sustainable Aviation Fuel Approved in Piper Turboprops

Piper Aircraft announces the ability to use Sustainable Aviation Fuel (SAF) in all PA-46 based, Piper single-engine turbine-powered aircraft, including the M600/SLS, M500, and Meridian. SAF is not only FAA approved via SAIB NE-11-56R4, but is available for use in every country where turbine M-Class aircraft operate.

All jet fuel that meets the requirements of the American Society for Testing and Materials (ASTM) D7566 Standard Specification for Aviation Turbine Fuel Containing Synthesized Hydrocarbons can be utilized in Piper turbine-powered aircraft. Typically, this fuel is made from fatty acids or other synthetic components and is acceptable for use on aircraft and engines certified for use with D1655 fuel, more commonly known as traditional Jet A and Jet A-1 fuel. Therefore, the new SAF includes the designation as Jet A and Jet A-1. The introduction of SAF to the Piper turboprop line will not require a change in aircraft placarding or Pilot’s Operating Handbooks.

This announcement comes at the heels of another recent commitment from Piper to promote sustainability in general aviation, initially revealed at EAA AirVenture 2022. Piper Aircraft and CAE are collaborating on an electrically powered conversion kit via a Supplemental Type Certificate (STC) for in-service Archer TX aircraft. Upon certification, CAE plans to convert two-thirds of its existing Piper Archer TX training fleet and will be the first to develop a curriculum for new pilots to conduct training in an electric airplane. These Archer TX advancements will significantly reduce carbon emissions while preparing pilots to operate greener, electric aircraft.

“We are pleased with the continuous improvements made to our products, especially in regards to environmental consciousness,” said Ron Gunnarson, Vice President of Sales, Marketing, and Customer Support. “Prioritizing sustainability in our aircraft as technological advancements allow is important to Piper Aircraft, first seen in our electric Archer TX/CAE partnership and now with Sustainable Aviation Fuel compatibility in our turboprops. We are committed to a safer, greener aviation industry.” Source: ‚‚.

Spain, Morocco: Spanish Africa, Pillars of Hercules, Southernmost Point in Europe

There are many reasons that I wanted to go to Gibraltar. It is a separate country, the rock is eponymous, the Strait of Gibraltar is naturally interesting, and the place separates the Atlantic and Mediterranean. The problem lies in the fact that Spain is not happy that it signed a treaty assigning sovereignty to individuals other than Spain, so the story goes that they assigned a lovely series of astonishingly annoying restricted areas along the coast, making flights into and out of Gibraltar difficult. That means a trip out to sea, which, as we know, Garrett does not like. In my prior visit with the PA-11, the reality of the distance involved and the out-to-sea trip meant that fuel was a problem, which meant a stop in Gibraltar itself, which meant significant fees to close the road, as well as clear customs both ways. I appropriately abandoned the idea in 2018.

With a better aircraft that could fly to Gibraltar and back, including the nautical jaunt, without fueling, I decided that it was time. Given that I had four hours of fuel, I started the flight frolicking in the normally restricted areas near the mouth of the Guadalquivir River, then proceeded along the coast toward Tarifa, Spain, the first point at which I had to be out to sea.

Along the way, a nagging slice of deviousness brewed, which was able to proceed from naughty thought to naughty deed. Since I could actually talk to Seville Approach (that is something of an issue at 1,000 feet above the ground, far from Seville), I asked if I could cross the Strait of Gibraltar, wander around a bit on the coast of Morocco, and return on this flight plan. “Yeah, no problem,” was the reply. Hmmm…

Source and entire report: ‚Garrett Fisher‚.

Piper-IG zu Besuch auf dem Flugplatz Höxter-Holzminden

Am Sonntag, dem 12. Februar, besuchte die Piper Interessengemeinschaft (Piper-IG) den Flugplatz Höxter-Holzminden. Die Piper-IG ist ein deutschlandweiter Zusammenschluss von Piloten und Modellfliegern der legendären Piper Cub und Super Cub Flugzeuge. Eine Cub – der Name bedeutet Jungtier oder Bärenkind – ist gutmütig zu fliegen und sie benötigt nur eine kurze Start- oder Landebahn.

Nach der jährlichen Hauptversammlung in Uslar fand beim befreundeten Luftsport Höxter e. V. auf dem Flugplatz Höxter-Holzminden ein Besuch und eine Besichtigung der am Flugplatz beheimateten Oldtimer statt. Trotz bescheidener Wetterprognose fanden sich 20 interessierte Piloten und Modellflieger ein.

Die legendäre Dornier Do 27 fand ebenso Beachtung wie die dazugehörige Ausstellung über deren Lebenslauf. Ein ganz besonderes Highlight wurde dem Vorsitzenden der Piper-IG Udo Stamer zu teil. Er verbrachte seine Bundeswehrzeit als 1. Wart auf dem Düsenjäger Fiat G.91. Einer dieser Düsenjäger ist Teil der Ausstellung und wird in Zusammenarbeit mit der Firma YOURcockpit derzeit in Höxter restauriert und zum Flugsimulator umgebaut.

Udo Stamer durfte nach 45 Jahren das erste Mal wieder im Cockpit einer „Gina“ Platz nehmen. Alle Teilnehmer waren sich einig, dass das nicht der letzte Besuch in Höxter gewesen sein wird. Schon im kommenden Sommer möchte man wieder einfliegen, um ein Stück Torte von Konditormeister Andreas Otto im Flugplatz-Café am Räuschenberg oder einen Burger bei Gina’s in der Stadt zu geniessen sowie die Landesgartenschau zu besichtigen und dabei weiter zu fachsimpeln. Quelle: ‚Hoexter-News‚.

No one noticed it was missing: 1971 Super Cub crash

Lasham Aerodrome in Hampshire, England, was built in 1942 and used as a base for the RAF Fighter Command. After the war, it became the home of the Army Gliding Club. That year, the Surrey Gliding Club and the Imperial College Gliding Club also moved to Lasham, as their aerodromes were becoming too busy for gliding. The Lasham Gliding Society was established in 1958; it is now the largest British gliding club in existence and one of the largest in the world. Powered aircraft at Lasham is rare, with an obvious exception of tugs for the gliders, and inbound flights need special permission unless there is a genuine emergency.

In 1971, the Lasham Gliding Society had four light aircraft that they leased from Air Tows Limited. There were a small number of pilots who flew the aircraft on behalf of the club. Many of the pilots were also glider pilots. When the aircraft was not needed for towing, the pilots were encouraged to use them for private flights.

At the time, many small airfields had a book in which pilots would log their departure and then sign off upon their return. However, as most of the flights at Lasham Gliding Society were short, local area flights for towing, they did not have such systems in place and did not keep a booking-out book. Each aircraft had a log in which the pilots noted all flights, which was handed into the office at the end of the day. However, the Society were not required to keep a record of tug movements and they did not do so. If a pilot wished to take one of the tugs for a private flight, all he needed to was obtain verbal authorisation from one of the Society officials.

One of the tug aircraft was a Piper PA-19 registered in the UK as G-AYPN, owned by Air Tows Limited and operated by the Lasham Gliding Society. Piper initially designed the PA-19 as a military variant of the PA-18, in response to the US Army’s call for liaison aircraft. Three prototypes were built. The third had an upgraded engine, a Continental C-90-12F, which set the groundwork for the finished product. Piper did not immediately get the expected military orders and considered releasing the aircraft for civil use, which may be why they reverted to the PA-18 designation: once in production, the military variant became known as the L-18C Super Cub. In the end, the US Army purchased around 700 of the L-18C with another 156 going to other nations for military use. However, when Piper L-18C aircraft moved from military service to the civil register, they once again were assigned the PA-19 designation.

This specific Super Cub had originally been purchased by the French Light Air Force. It had been imported into the UK that same year and added to the British Register as a PA-19 on the 13th of July 1971. The aircraft did not have IFR instruments and there was no radio equipment.

On the 28th of August in 1971, G-AYPN departed Lasham Gliding Society and disappeared.
In the front seat was a 25-year-old private pilot with 94 hours of flight time, of which 31 had been on Super Cubs, towing gliders for the Society. He was also a qualified glider pilot. He was not rated for night flying or for instrument flight. In the back seat was a non-pilot friend. The pilot mentioned at the airfield that they were thinking about visiting Sandown aerodrome on the Isle of Wight.

That Saturday morning, the daily weather forecast was up on the notice board, warning of strong winds and low clouds with a base of 700 feet. The pilot usually phoned from home to get the weather forecast before leaving for the aerodrome, but it is not clear if he did that day or if he saw the forecast on the notice board. The Super Cub had between 15-20 gallons of fuel on board. The pair took off heading west on Runway 27 at 11:30 local time. They continued westbound as they climbed away and disappeared into the cloud at about 700-800 feet. The visibility that day was variable, with a warm, moist and cloudy airstream covering the area. To the north, the cloud base was between 1200 and 1800 feet. To the south, the cloud base was as slow as 500 feet with the occasional drizzle. Mist and fog covered the tops of the South Downs.

The Super Cub reappeared below the clouds and turned left. For a moment, it seemed that the pilot was flying a left-hand circuit to land. Then, on the final approach, the pilot again began to climb away. Staying just under the cloud base, he again turned left but this time the aircraft didn’t join the circuit but continued flying south.

The following morning, a club member reported to one of the Society officials that the Super Cub was not in the hangar. That afternoon, another club member spoke to the same official and mentioned that a Super Cub was missing. The official was not surprised by the news; the Society had a Super Cub out on loan for a week, which was returned around lunchtime that day. Then, later that afternoon, a different Super Cub departed for Blackbushe. Thus, both times when a Super Cub was reported missing, the official was aware that there was a Super Cub known to be elsewhere. He presumed that the reports were referring to one of these two aircraft. No one ever thought to mention that, at the time of both reports, there were two Super Cubs missing.

That evening, around 20:30 local time, the pilot’s sister phoned the club to ask about his whereabouts. it was unlike him to be away from home with no message. All of the staff had already left for the day and the person who answered the phone wasn’t able to help.

She phoned again on Monday morning and explained that her brother had now been missing for two nights and she was worried. At the same time, the duty flying instructor realised that G-AYPN was not in the hangar and there was no record of it being used elsewhere. He was able to confirm that the pilot had checked it out on Saturday but only now had they realised that he’d not returned. They phoned Sandown aerodrome on the Isle of Wight. The aircraft was not there. Sandown requires prior permission, but they had not received a request for any inbound aircraft from Lasham. Not only was the aircraft missing but no one knew where the pilot had intended to fly to. The Lasham Gliding Society manager phoned Basingstoke police and the duty officer at the Department of Trade and Industry to ask if there had been any reports of a forced landing or crash.

There were none.

Somewhat relieved, the Society officials considered that perhaps the pilot had simply borrowed the aircraft for the weekend without asking permission. Someone mentioned that the pilot might have flown to Scotland. They waited until dusk, hoping the Super Cub would appear and it would all be a big laugh.

As the light faded from the sky, so did hope. The Society manager officially reported the flight as overdue. The report went to the Basingstoke Police, the Department of Trade and Industry, the London Air Traffic Control Centre and the Royal Air Force Rescue Co-ordination. The report stated that the Super Cub had departed Lasham at 14:00 on Saturday with enough fuel for about three and a half hours flight, destination unknown. It’s not clear where the new time came from; the Super Cub departed the airfield at 11:30.

London Air Traffic Control passed the details to ATC Centres at Preston and Redbrae, as well as the French Airways Supervisor in Paris. Without knowing where the pilot was headed, there was little that they could do. They were informed that a televised power boat race showed a yellow aircraft flying overhead, but when the footage was obtained from the BBC, it was not the missing Super Cub. At some point on the following day, the Lasham Gliding Society contacted the Centre to correct the departure time from 14:00 to 11:30.

The Rescue Co-ordination Centre was also unable to take any practical action without knowing where to search. They contacted the Coastguard and other ships asking for any sightings of the aircraft. On the 3rd of September, a member of the public reported to the Hampshire police that they’d seen an aircraft north of Midhurst. The Rescue Coordination Centre searched the area, but nothing was found.

The Basingstoke Police were the first to know that there was a missing aircraft, as the Lasham Gliding Society manager had phoned to ask about any reports of a forced landing or crash. They passed the information that an aircraft had gone missing to all Hampshire stations, including the Aldershot police, who are responsible for Lasham and the surrounding area. That evening, they were notified that the aircraft was officially overdue.

An Aldershot police officer was asked to supervise the enquires and a general alert was broadcast to all stations. On Tuesday, the 31st of August, the details of the missing flight were featured in local newspapers and broadcast on television. People phoned in from all over the country to see that they’d seen the plane. The police had the task of filtering through these sightings and following up on those that seemed significant. Usually, the reports and analysis would be done in conjunction with the Rescue Co-ordination Centre but the police station had not dealt with such a situation before and worked through the incoming reports on their own.

One person on the northern outskirts of Petersfield reported seeing the Super Cub low beneath the clouds, about 200-300 feet above the ground, flying south. Another phone call reported that two of them had been in the village of Buriton when they’d noticed the Super Cub flying south towards the Buriton railway tunnel. They said that the aircraft was visibly rocked by turbulence but didn’t appear to be in difficulty. The railway runs south through a valley. That day, the cloud base was about 600 feet above mean sea level with a light drizzle. The horizontal visibility was around half a mile. Both of these reports stated that they’d seen the aircraft around noon. As a result, they were dismissed, as the initial report from Lasham said that the aircraft had not departed the airfield until 14:00.

It’s not clear when the police discovered that the actual departure time was actually two and a half hours earlier, at 11:30. It definitely came up during a phone conversation on the 3rd or 4th of September, but that was as a secondary detail, not the point of the phone call. The police officer noted the information but it did not occur to anyone that the public sightings should be revisited to see if any had been dismissed based on timing.

Of all of the reported sightings, only two were actually of G-AYPN. But they were dismissed as having occurred before the aircraft had departed. As the police attempted to retrace the steps of the aircraft, they knew only that it had departed from the airport and flew south, keeping below the bad weather. A number of private pilots from Lasham and Blackbushe attempted their own aerial reconnaissance, exploring the South Downs and the New Forest in hopes of finding signs of a crash. They found nothing.

There was another witness who was standing on high ground over the railway tunnel and saw the Super Cub flying low over the trees. The aircraft tilted left as if hit by a gust of wind. Then it continued south down the valley, remaining under the low clouds. As it disappeared into the distance, it sounded as if the engine had changed notes, as if the engine power had been increased. Then a train passed by, drowning out any sounds from the aircraft. This combination of low flying and increased engine worried the witness, who noted that the time was 12:12 exactly. He walked to the woods to have a look around. There were no signs of a crash.

September passed and then October. Autumn came and the leaves began to fall. On the 31st of October, two months after the flight had disappeared, a member of the public walking along a track through the forest saw the wreckage about 50 yards away. It was in a heavily wooded area about four miles south of Petersfield and just one mile south of the Buriton railway tunnel. The accident site was 15 nautical miles south of the aerodrome and at an elevation of 475 feet above mean sea level with young beech and ash trees of 45-50 feet. Only three weeks before, the same person had walked that same track and seen nothing. Employees of the Forestry Commission had passed very close as well but again, in the dense foliage, they did not see the wreckage. The Super Cub had dived into the forest with a western heading, the nose and the port wing at an angle of 70° down. Travelling at 60-70 miles per hour (96-112 km/h), it impacted nose first, almost vertically. There was no trail of damage on the tree tops which might have attracted the attention of the aerial searchers. There was no fire.

The two men were found still strapped in their seats, heavily decomposed. There was nothing obviously wrong with the aircraft, other than the filler cap to the port fuel tank was missing. It was impossible to prove when it had come off, but it didn’t really matter. The fuel selector was set to the starboard tank, which still held fuel when it ruptured on impact. A subsequent aerial search showed that the wreckage could not be seen from the sky and would not be visible until most of the leaves had fallen.

More damning was a fatigue crack in the cabin heater’s heat exchange unit. The heat muffler had deposits of lead and bromine on the heater muffler’s exhaust, left behind by the high-octane fuel fumes which had seeped through the cracks into the heater system. The exhaust unit had been pressure tested in May and visually examined in June and again in August. Since then, it had flown a total of seven hours flight time. The heater system controls were set to off but that wasn’t necessarily meaningful; the levers had been struck on the impact such that they would have been forced closed if open.

So what do we know?

The Super Cub departed southbound and was seen passing north of Petersfield and over Burinton towards the Buriton railway tunnel, flying low and struggling with turbulence. The railway runs south from Petersfield through the Buriton railway tunnel below high ground of about five hundred feet above mean sea level and then south through the valley, with hills reaching 650 feet above mean sea level. About half a mile beyond the tunnel, there is a line of power cables crossing the track from northeast to southwest. The tops of the pylons carrying the cables are at 575 feet above mean sea level. At 12:12, an eyewitness saw the Super Cub flying low over the tunnel and into the valley, following the line of the tracks. At that time, the clouds were about 600 feet above mean sea level which put them at the same height as the power cables across the valley.

The power cables were not marked on the pilot’s chart.

That last sighting was accompanied by a change in the engine note as it disappeared into the distance, a change that the witness associated with a burst of power. A scenario presents itself. The pilot is flying low, attempting to remain in visual conditions. At the last minute, he saw the cables in his path and pitched up steeply while increasing the engine power. As they climbed safely over the cables, the Super Cub entered the clouds. Only moments earlier, the aircraft had seen to be bouncing in the turbulence. With no visibility, no instrument training and only minimal instruments, the pilot quickly lost situational awareness. Soon, he literally no longer knew which way was up. Perhaps he meant to descend in order to regain visibility; however, there is no chance that he meant to descend so steeply, knowing that he was just over the trees. By the time that they were clear of the clouds, the Super Cub was diving through the tree tops, seconds from impact. Still, it seems odd for the pilot to have continued the flight in the first place. It was clear from the start that the clouds were low enough to make it difficult for a visual flight. Indeed, initially, the pilot appeared to turn back, lining up to land back at Lasham after accidentally flying into the low cloud.

The crack in the heat exchange unit may have also played a role. If there were exhaust gases in the cockpit, then the decision-making skills of the pilot could have been strongly impaired. This would affect every aspect of the flight, from the decision to carry on just a few hundred feet above the ground to losing control once they’d flown over the power cables. Unfortunately, there’s no way to know if the heating was on that Saturday, throwing fumes into the cockpit. As the wreckage was not found for two months, the postmortem analysis gave very little information.

The two occupants clearly died on impact, so a speedier response from search and rescue would not have otherwise made a difference. However, it isn’t difficult to imagine a scenario where they may have been injured and in need of help. A speedy response requires that search teams know as soon as possible that a crash may have occurred and at least have an idea of where the crash may have occurred.

The lack of procedures for private flights from Lasham caused this final failure. The only control was the verbal agreement from an official, with no paper trail. Once it was clear that the Super Cub was missing, that person had to be found and in this instance, he or she did not know where the pilot was taking the aircraft. A system that was “good enough” for short local area flights with gliders made it impossible to determine that the pilot and plane were overdue, in the first instance and then left search and rescue teams with no way to organise useful ground or aerial searches.

The final report by the Accidents Investigation Branch in the Department of Trade and Industry concluded that there was nothing wrong with the aircraft. As a side note, the passenger was the eldest son of the British comedian Michael Bentine, who became interested in the regulations governing private airfields as a result of the crash. He continued to investigate this in the context of smuggling operations using personal aircraft and wrote a report on the subject for the British police department known as Special Branch. The material he collected for this report formed the basis of his novel Lord of the Levels. Source: ‚‚. Picture: ‚Peter Michael Rhodes,‚.

Crossing Europe in a Super Cub

Source: ‚Garrett Fisher / AOPA‚.

Two planned trips fused into one when a long streak of unusually favourable weather appeared in the forecast, resulting in over 24 hours in the air, flying a Piper Super Cub from the bottom of Spain to Norway. The marathon of the flight was driven in the first instance by a plan to spend a little over two months in Norway, flying around glaciers in the summer. The Super Cub was in southern Andalusia, Spain, not far from Africa, after spending a few weeks during the spring holidays wandering around the coast. I had planned to fly the aircraft to Switzerland and then deal with getting it to Norway a month or so afterwards.

I have this image of Scandinavia, particularly the west coast of Norway, where the airplane ultimately would be headed. It was a visual of nonstop lashing rain, low clouds, intense winds, and generally vile weather, with sun three or four times a year. It is not that unfounded of a notion, as Bergen, Norway, is one of Europe’s rainiest cities, receiving almost double the precipitation of Portland, Oregon.

A heat wave was brewing in Spain, so I decided it was time to leave. What was curious was the weather forecast. It showed pleasant weather (naturally) in Spain, with VFR in France the next day. For days three and four, a strong high-pressure zone was forecast to form over Denmark, resulting in sunny skies from Belgium through the Netherlands, northern Germany, Sweden, and southern Norway. To get VFR stretching from 36 degrees to 59 degrees north latitude in Europe for four consecutive days is not something I deem common, so I was inspired to go direct to Norway.

A few fortuitous events made the trip appear to make more sense. The sellers of the Super Cub, from whom I bought it six months prior in Norway, are happy to lend hangar space while the airplane sat for a month. A mechanic I knew would be in Halmstad, Sweden, while I was passing through. It was one of my planned overnight stops, and I needed to discuss some modifications and plan the renewal of the airworthiness certificate, which must be done alongside an annual inspection. With a dose of tossing caution to the wind, I decided to make a run for it. It would be four days in the air and my longest European cross-country.

After departing Trebujena, Spain, over Seville’s control zone, the flight ventured into something visually like the American West. It is a semi-arid region with dry summers, like California. The resulting terrain looks something like one would find in southwest Montana, albeit with lower undulating mountains, many scrub pine forests, and intermittent farming. This goes on for three hours until approaching Madrid, for the first fuel stop at Casarrubios del Monte. It is worth noting that the lower airport density in Europe causes some element of anxiety. There are more airports in southwest Montana than in this stretch of Europe, though Spain is more densely populated. None of the reasonable alternates had fuel, so it required 75 per cent of my fuel capacity to get to the first refuelling point.

I visited Casarrubios in 2018 when crossing the PA–­11 Cub Special from the Pyrenees to the Portuguese coast. It is a friendly, nontowered airport with aerobatics, fuel, and good general aviation resources. After some hassle with a nonfunctional fuel pump, I was off again for my next destination: Biarritz, France.

Madrid’s control zone is not very flexible, so I had to largely go around it, heading southeast, then due east, then eventually to the northeast half an hour later, once free of airliner traffic. Temperatures at this point were in the mid-90 degrees Fahrenheit. I was closer to the ground owing to the cake overhead, though I saw some thundershowers developing in the mountains to the northeast of Madrid. Uncomfortably hot, I aimed for some precipitation, rinsing the airplane off and dropping cabin temperatures. By this point, I had climbed to 4,500 feet due to terrain while still within 1,000 feet AGL, as temps had calmed down.

Semi-arid terrain gave way to thick pine forests, which were giving off small clouds of pollen, a phenomenon I had experienced when I lived in the Pyrenees. I could smell it in the cooler and fresh air. Agriculture featured canola fields in full bloom, a display of bright yellow that I would see in great abundance along the German coast approaching Denmark two days later.

There was a concern about precipitation, as what appeared to be orographic thunderstorms started to show more alignment with a small front coming through. The showers I sought to cool me off became unavoidable as I found myself flying in the rain, wedging around them to stay VFR northeast of Soria, Spain, before crossing the ridge into the Ebro Valley.

Further south of this point, the Monegros Desert begins. I experienced a similar event in June 2018, flying east from Madrid to the Pyrenees. I went from broken clouds, humidity, and cold to summer temperatures, sunshine, and a desert within 20 minutes. While it wasn’t quite a desert, once I left the terrain between Soria and Pamplona, the sun came out, and things were clear.

I stayed at 5,000 feet as the 30-minute crossing of the lower plains featured the hills of Basque Country on the other side. There was no point descending, only to climb back up again, particularly as I was on another long leg, which would use most of my fuel. As I approached the hills north of Pamplona, the vegetation turned lusciously green. Over the first ridge, in the direction of the Bay of Biscay, it looked like East Tennessee: rolling steep Appalachian-style hills with rich, green deciduous forests.

Within 20 minutes, I was handed off to Biarritz Tower and made my approach toward the Atlantic Coast near the border. From there, the circuit calls for following the coastline for five minutes, then a one-minute final into the airport. I had landed here two months earlier on the way down to Spain. At the time, the fees were agreeable, though apparently, things changed from winter to summer, so I was handed an almost $50 landing fee invoice. While I was fine with paying it, I took issue with the fact that the FBO claims that there is no bathroom, requiring pilots to walk half a kilometre, leave the airport, clear „security,“ and walk back. Pressing the matter, I asked if the customers that come in on private jets to this FBO have to walk the same distance. The „VIP“ package includes the use of a toilet. „How much if I do not want the VIP package to urinate in the bathroom?“ „Fifty-four euros“ ($65 at the time). No amount of French I spoke, or huffing indignation, changed their minds, so I got my exercise to use the bathroom elsewhere.

Though it was approaching dinnertime, I decided to go 75 miles north, along the coast to La Teste-de-Buch, France, as Biarritz had instrument conditions the previous morning, whereas points north did not. The following morning, my supposition was correct. Biarritz had IFR, whereas it was hazy and overcast over northern Bordeaux. While I would have liked to follow the coast, it would have lengthened an already very long trip. Even still, I could not fathom drawing a line from Bordeaux to Denmark, as it would have been 1,000 miles of repetitive scenery: fields, forests, towns, and some modest hills. Call me a curmudgeon if you must, though I grew up in upstate New York, which looks somewhat similar, absent French châteaux and whatnot. I plotted a course direct northeast of Calais, France, on the English Channel.

The slog through France was uneventful. It was almost three hours to Blois for fuel due to a headwind, passing over the Loire River before landing. I landed on the grass strip, a first for this aircraft, where the Baby Bushwheel felt right at home. Another struggle with a broken fuel pump, then shy of another three hours to Calais, with a flight over the Seine and Giverny, where impressionist painter Claude Monet lived. While it sounds like a fairy tale, I prefer the coast and mountains over farmland.

Calais was an amusing experience. I had read a web of pilot reviews raving about excellent English advertised in the official Aeronautical Information Publication and somehow confused myself. Controllers speak English during the week, but the frequencies revert to French on the weekend, and also with air-to-air uncontrolled communications. French flight following handed me off to the frequency, noting it was „French only.“ I could have diverted elsewhere, though it would have been quite stressful reading AIPs and reviews to see if other airports had fuel, so I decided to dive in with my limited French. Once in the air, confirming that fuel exists at an airport and is open is rather tricky in Europe, which is very different from markings right on the sectional map, or concisely noted in the AF/D in the United States.

The first problem with Calais was figuring out which field was in use. It is a field with lots of parachute activity, so flying overhead to find out is unsafe. I asked in French about the frequency and got no reply. Since I had been facing a northeast headwind all day, I decided to land to the east and announced as such in what was ultimately poor French. The result was a quartering tailwind landing, but so be it. There was plenty of room. After taxiing off the runway, I saw three airplanes lined up to take off to the west, whose pilots all opted not to speak at all (not even in French). I later snarled to a French pilot about French rudeness, and he pointed out: „They were being quite considerate in French terms by waiting for you. Normally they would have just taken off anyway.“

The day’s last flight was along the French, Belgian, and Dutch coasts to Texel, Netherlands. I had been invited by a fellow Super Cub pilot, who is also an aerial photographer. He kindly offered lodging and to hangar the airplane for the night. It was an open question if I could make it before closing, though I was able to with an extension from the information service folks, who stayed a bit later than normal. The flight was pretty along the coasts, and exceptionally so once I got to the Dutch islands northeast of Amsterdam, which reminded me of the Outer Banks of North Carolina.

Dinner with the Dutch pilot was illuminating. He told me a story about photographing as a passenger in a Cessna when they were impacted into the North Sea in the fog, in controlled flight but unable to discern the water visibly. The story reads as though out of a movie: gaining consciousness seconds before submerging underwater, the seat belt not wanting to release, his life jacket getting stuck to the sinking airplane, and finally getting free. He is only alive because he was wearing the life jacket, and he had a 406-Mhz personal locator beacon around his neck before the crash. I purchased both after talking to him and began wearing them if I went anywhere near the water.

The next day was an air-to-air photography session with our respective Super Cubs, lunch after landing on the island of Ameland, Netherlands, and a leg from Ameland to Lolland-Falster, Denmark. I cruised at 2,000 feet over the German barrier islands owing to a protected area. However, I overflew what seemed like an airport on each island (where being below 2,000 feet is acceptable for takeoff and landing). That beckons a return someday to land at each one.

I crossed the top of Germany in Schleswig-Holstein, where approaching the Baltic Sea coast, I was greeted with a sea of yellow canola flowers. It was a 12-mile crossing over water, thinking about the life jacket I was not yet wearing, and then fuel at Lolland-Falster. At this point, I was tracing, in the other direction, the path I had taken out of Norway the prior autumn. There was one last two-hour leg west of Copenhagen, over the Øresund Strait, into Sweden, and along the coast, before landing at the odd closing time of 7:35 p.m.

I booked a hotel for two nights in Halmstad. By midday the next day, the fact that the mechanic was 600 miles to the north left me pondering the philosophical question of what I was doing there. He was not reliable. The weather was perfect, daylight hours long, and it was only 1 p.m. I checked out of the hotel, filed a flight plan (with waypoints every 30 minutes and more than one hour before, a lesson I learned on a previous trip, and took off for Norway).

While it was less than three hours and featured sun instead of half of it being VFR on top like last time, I found myself rather tired. It was the last three hours of a 24.4-hour adventure from the bottom of Europe to Scandinavia. I could enjoy the coast with less fear of death than when I was going the other way. This time, I understood the airplane better and had fantastic weather with beautiful scenery.

I crossed into Norway, then over the Oslofjord, which I could see this time. Last time, it was nothing but solid overcast below. Before landing at TORP Sandefjord Airport for customs, I had to hold over the stunningly beautiful coastline. That featured some waiting and then a phone call to the customs office, who said I could be on my way. I find it ironic as I was examined thoroughly on the outbound leg, where I confessed to buying the airplane and exporting cheese.

The hop to Skien was only 20 minutes. I tucked the airplane into the exact spot where I had bought it six and a half months ago. It would sit for 45 days before I would return to Norway to begin the glacier attack. While I had a sense of accomplishment due to the length of the flight, I also knew that more intense flying lay ahead than behind.

The flight covered eight countries and went from 36 to 59 degrees north latitude, the same as going from Monterey, California, to Skagway, Alaska.

Viel zu tief

Der Absturz einer Piper PA-28RT-201 am Simplon im August 2019 ist auf einen Pilotenfehler zurückzuführen. Er flog viel zu tief. Die geringe Flugerfahrung des Piloten im Gebirge trug zum Unglück bei. Das ist die Beurteilung der Schweizerische Sicherheitsuntersuchungsstelle (Sust) im Unfall-Schlussbericht. Die in Lausanne-Blécherette gestartete Maschine war am Hübschhorn beim Simplon in steiles Gelände geprallt. Der Pilot, eine Begleitperson sowie ein Kleinkind kamen ums Leben. Ziel des Flugs war Perugia in Italien. Der Pilot des einmotorigen Viersitzers hatte laut Sust zwar die Wegpunkte seiner Flugroute gut geplant, in einer App eingegeben und sich auch an diese gehalten. Auf die in den Alpen einzuhaltenden Flughöhen hatte er sich aber ungenügend vorbereitet.

Die Folge davon war, dass der Pilot bei Brig VS am Eingang zum Simplonpass zu tief ankam. Gemäss den Empfehlungen der offiziellen Luftfahrtkarte hätte die Piper an dieser Stelle mindestens 670 Meter höher fliegen müssen. Darauf begann der Pilot einen Steigflug, wobei er im unübersichtlichen Gelände kaum Ausweichmöglichkeiten hatte. Die Maschine flog mit einem verhältnismässig hohen Anstellwinkel nahe am felsigen Gelände. Damit wurde die Sicht des Piloten zusätzlich beeinträchtigt. Zwei Wandergruppen hatten das Flugzeug in dieser Fluglage kurz vor dem Unfall bemerkt. Der kritische Flugzustand mit einem hohen Anstellwinkel führte gemäss Sust dann zum Strömungsabriss – die trudelte. Wegen der ungenügenden Flughöhe konnte der Pilot die Maschine nicht mehr abfangen. Bei der Kollision zerbrach die Piper in mehrere Teile und brannte grösstenteils aus. Die drei Flugzeuginsassen hatten gemäss Bericht keine Überlebens-Chancen. Die SUST fand keine Hinweise auf technische Probleme und der 51jährige Pilot hatte keine gesundheitlichen Beeinträchtigungen. Quelle: ‚SUST‚.

Pilot Report: XCub on Wipline 2100 Amphibious Floats

Jeremy Young, president of our exclusive authorized flight training partner, TacAero, has impressive experience in a huge range of aircraft, from vintage to hyper-modern. When we asked Jeremy for his impressions flying our XCub on the newly certified Wipline 2100 amphibious floats, he provided this PIREP. Thanks, Jeremy!

In my experience, floatplanes are one of the best ways to enjoy flying. Exploring lakes, rivers, and ocean coves is a pleasure, and every landing is an adventure. Some floatplanes allow you to get into very tight, sometimes challenging locations, while others are heavier and require length and skill to manoeuvre in and around.

My original thoughts of the CC-19 XCub on floats were a bit reserved. I was curious how it would be different from the CC-18 Top Cub on amphibs and if the constant-speed prop and overall new aircraft design would perform better off the water. I currently have about 250 hours logged in the XCub. It is a delightful cross country and short field performer. When I was asked if I would like to fly the XCub and have my company, TacAero, deliver it to a customer and give them some dual in the aircraft, I was eager to do so, more to test the performance of the aircraft than anything else.

Departing out of Yakima I had to push south to avoid unfavourable weather to the east. As I approached the Columbia River, I saw a nice spot to land and I couldn’t resist the urge to get the floats wet.

The Wipline 2100s are a very functional and proven set of floats. They are robust and fairly maintenance-free. The sight picture out of the XCub, visual inspection of gear up and stowed is clear and easy to see. Touch down on the floats was as expected. Water taxiing was incredibly responsive! Upwind and downwind turns with about 10 knots of wind were handled easily. I would say water handling was twice as good as the Top Cub with the same floats. I then did a standard takeoff bringing in full power, stick back, and lifting the bows up and out of the water. This manoeuvre happened instantaneously requiring the controls to push forward find the step within a couple of seconds and then departing the water. I was unprepared for the performance! At this point, my grin went from ear to ear as I began to put the XCub through its paces. Step taxiing is almost impossible. The aircraft wants to leap out of the water and fly. Steep turns are almost impossible. You have to jockey the throttle a lot to keep the aircraft on the water. Circling step turns to take off are a joke. You leave the water a quarter of the way through the turn and end up in the air.

I continued to Hood River to pick up my chief pilot Wes Valpey, who is a very experienced seaplane pilot to get his opinion and to add some weight in the back of the aircraft to see how it would perform. The performance was nearly the same. Wes had the same results flying the XCub and was extremely pleased with its performance. We intended to go splash around for a few minutes and ended up spending two hours on the river, inlets and lakes.

All in all, the XCub far exceeded my expectations. I feel the XCub is at home on the water and I will be putting mine on amphibs soon. CubCrafters once again has released an aircraft configuration that will WOW the sceptics and delight the adventure seaplane enthusiast! Source: ‚‚.

Pilot (51) muss Flugzeug notlanden

Ein Flugzeug im Landkreis Ansbach war wegen eines technischen Defekts zu einer Notlandung gezwungen. Der Pilot musste daraufhin auf einen Acker zusteuern. Am Mittwochnachmittag (20. April 2022) gegen 13 Uhr erreichte die Polizeiinspektion Dinkelsbühl eine Mitteilung der Integrierten Leitstelle in Ansbach: Ein Kleinflugzeug musste ungeplant im Bereich des Dinkelsbühler Gemeindeteils Esbach notlanden.

Flugzeug muss notlanden – Polizeihubschrauber sucht nach Maschine
Da sich ein Polizeihubschrauber bereits wegen eines anderen Einsatzes in der Nähe befand, nahm die Besatzung sofort die Suche nach dem Ort der gemeldeten Notlandung auf, wie die Polizeiinspektion Dinkelsbühl mitteilt. Unmittelbar bei Esbach wurde das Team fündig. Der 51jährige Pilot stand zu dieser Zeit bereits außerhalb seiner Maschine und machte die Hubschrauberbesatzung durch Winken auf sich aufmerksam. Nach dem Eintreffen weiterer Streifen und der Landung des Polizeihubschraubers, eines Rettungshubschraubers und eines SAR-Hubschraubers der Bundeswehr wurde schließlich festgestellt, dass das Kleinflugzeug auf einem Acker wegen eines technischen Problems am Motor notlanden musste.

Das Bugrad des Kleinflugzeugs wurde dadurch abgeknickt und der Propeller schlug anschließend im Ackerboden auf. Der Pilot wurde dabei nicht verletzt, wurde jedoch aus Sicherheitsgründen von den Rettungskräften ins Klinikum nach Dinkelsbühl gebracht. Am Flugzeug entstand ein Sachschaden von rund 50.000 Euro.

Spezialisten sollen defektes Flugzeug bergen
Der Acker wurde nach Auskunft des Besitzers nicht beschädigt. Am Unfallort waren die Feuerwehr sowie das THW Dinkelsbühl vor Ort. Das Flugzeug wird in den nächsten Tagen von Spezialisten aus einer Flugzeugwerft in Straubing geborgen und abtransportiert. Quelle: ‚InFranken‚.

Notlandung auf einem Rad

Am Mittwoch, 11. August 2021, kam es auf der Piste 26 des EuroAirports Basel-Mulhouse zu einer Notlandung mit unserer Piper Archer HB-PQL. Der Fluglehrer und Flugschüler an Bord der HB-PQL starteten zunächst ohne besondere Auffälligkeiten in Basel zur Durchführung eines Schulungsfluges mit dem Ziel Schupfart, um dort einige «touch-and-goes» durchzuführen. Einige Sekunden nach dem ersten und notabene vorbildlich sanften «touch-and-go» in Schupfart, bei welchem lediglich trotz Einsatzes des rechten Fusses ein gewisser Drall nach links auffiel, wurde die Crew der HB-PQL dann via Funk von Schupfart darüber informiert, dass das linke Rad, der linke «strut» und die linke Bremse (nachfolgend wird zugunsten der Leserlichkeit lediglich vom linken Rad gesprochen) fehlen würden. Die Crew der HB-PQL bestätigte zunächst den Erhalt der Meldung und führte in der Folge einen weiteren Anflug – selbstredend ohne Landung – in Schupfart durch, um sich während eines low passes über der Piste von den auf dem Flugplatz anwesenden Piloten das Fehlen des linken Rades bestätigen zu lassen.

Umgehend nach dem low pass in Schupfart setzte die Crew der HB-PQL Kurs in Richtung Basel und informierte den Tower über die beabsichtigte Rückkehr mit fehlendem linken Rad. Nach einem weiteren low pass über der Piste 15 in Basel zur nochmaligen Vergewisserung über das Fehlen des Rades und zur Bestätigung, dass das in Flugrichtung linke Rad fehlte, kreiste die HB-PQL einige Minuten über dem «Echo-Point», um das Vorgehen während der bevorstehenden Notlandung auf der Piste 26 zu besprechen. Die Notlandung war schliesslich exzellent durchdacht und verlief glücklicherweise einwandfrei, sodass auch die bereitstehende Feuerwehr lediglich zu Abschleppzwecken eingesetzt werden musste und sowohl der Fluglehrer als auch der Flugschüler die Maschine unverletzt verlassen konnten. Der Schaden am Flugzeug beläuft sich auf rund CHF 35’000.-.

Wir möchten bei dieser Gelegenheit hervorheben, dass sich sowohl der Fluglehrer als auch der Flugschüler während dieser gesamten Ausnahmesituation höchst professionell verhalten haben. Beide blieben ruhig und besonnen, behielten die Übersicht, handelten gemäss nachvollziehbaren und strukturierten Gedankengängen und vermieden Panik in allen Situationen – dies verdient Respekt und Hochachtung und ist gleichzeitig die einzige Art und Weise, wie mit einer solchen Situation umzugehen ist. Der- oder demjenigen, der sich für den genauen Ablauf im Cockpit interessiert, sei folgendes Video empfohlen

Nun aber zum zweiten Punkt, den es hervorzuheben gilt: Das linke Rad ging auf dem Weg von Basel nach Schupfart verloren, womit auch der erste Landeanflug bereits ohne linkes Rad erfolgte und was auch den Drall nach links trotz Einsatzes des rechten Fusses zwischen dem Aufsetzen und dem erneuten Abheben erklärt. Zur Befestigung des Rades dient ein Radbolzen, den unsere Maintenance gemäss dem Piper Maintenance Manual alle 100 Flugstunden zu kontrollieren hat und dies auch tut. Somit drängt sich der schier unerschütterliche Verdacht auf, dass seit der letzten 100-Stunden-Kontrolle der HB-PQL eine derart harte Landung stattgefunden haben muss, welche diesen Radbolzen anzureissen vermochte, sodass sich das linke Rad schliesslich letzten Mittwoch während des Fluges verabschiedete und glücklicherweise niemanden erschlagen hat. Schuldzuweisungen bezüglich der (über)harten Landung sind hier nicht angebracht und wenig nützlich. Allerdings muss sich diejenige Pilotin oder derjenige Pilot, der diese (über)harte Landung nicht gemeldet, sondern vielmehr während des Abschlusses der Reservation unter der Rubrik «Troubles and Observations» «NIL» (= «nothing is listed») angekreuzt hat, gewisse Vorwürfe gefallen lassen.

Wie dem auch sei, es bleibt uns nichts anderes übrig, als vorwärts zu schauen und Lösungen zu finden, die einen weiteren solchen Vorfall ausschliessen. Namentlich wurden bereits alle Radbolzen unserer Piper-Flotte kontrolliert und wir beabsichtigen, in Kürze alle unsere Flugzeuge mit g-Kräftemessern auszurüsten, welche die Belastungen aufzeichnen und bei allfälligen Überbelastungen direkt unsere Maintenance informieren. Quelle: ‚Newsletter der Flugschule Basel‚. Zusätzliche Fotos.

Flugzeug zum Selberbauen

Carl Friedrich Schmidt ist Musiker – und begeisterter Flieger. Für seine zweite Leidenschaft hat er sich deshalb ein eigenes Flugzeug gebaut. Mit einem Bausatz von Piper, Wankelmotor und viel Hingabe. Was für eine Maschine! Das Cockpit für zwei und völlig offen. Dazu der exotische Antrieb, ein Zweischeiben-Wankelmotor. Das Design unglaublich. Und die aufgemalte „Nose Art“ wie früher bei Jagdflugzeugen des Zweiten Weltkriegs. Außerdem ein Schriftzug „Breezy“, der mithilfe von echtem Goldstaub aufgebracht ist. Der Begriff einmalig wirkt für die Maschine von Carl Friedrich Schmidt fast schon abgegriffen, zumal wenn man erfährt, dass er das Flugzeug selbst gebaut hat. Zugegeben, es gibt immerhin einen Bauplan dafür, aber da wurde so viel verändert, optimiert und auf die persönlichen Vorlieben hin modifiziert, dass diese Maschine viel mehr ist, als nur einen Plan umzusetzen. Zumal ihr Bau 14 Jahre gedauert hat. Quelle: ‚Jürgen Schelling in der FAZ, Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung‚ (Registrierung).

Diesel-Hochdruckpumpe verursacht Motorausfall

Am 19. Juli 2020 startete der Pilot um 10:27 Uhr in einem vierplätzigen Motorflugzeug, eingetragen als HB-PMF, vom Flugplatz Birrfeld zu einem Alpenrundflug. Mit ihm an Bord befand sich eine Passagierin. Auf einer Höhe von 5500 ft über Meer ging er in den Reiseflug über und setzte eine Motorleistung von 75%. In der Region von Zofingen (AG) fiel der Motor aus. Der Pilot stellte fest, dass die Kontrollanzeigen beider FADEC1 blinkten.Er führte die im Falle eines Motorausfalls auszuführenden Manipulationen aus. Der Motor liess sich aber nicht mehr starten.Während des Gleitfluges in Richtung des Flugplatzes Triengen entschied sich der Pilot für eine Notlandung in einem Maisfeldbei Reitnau, da bis Triengen nach seiner Beurteilungkeine geeigneten Notlandeplätze in Reichweite waren. Nach dem Aufsetzen kam das Flugzeug gegen das Ende des Maisfeldes hin an einer Ackerfurche zum Stillstand. Dabei knickte das Bugfahrwerk ein, sodass das Flugzeug leicht beschädigt wurde. Der Pilot und die Passagierin blieben unverletzt. Quelle: ‚SUST‚.

Landeanflug bei Nebel war riskant

Am Donnerstag, 18. Februar, stürzte ein zweimotoriges Flugzeug bei Staad in den Bodensee ab. Nun soll das Wrack geborgen werden – was gar nicht so einfach ist. Nach dem Absturz klären Polizeitaucher und ein Flugunfall-Spezialist derzeit ab, wie das Wrack vom Seegrund geborgen werden kann. Das Ziel sei eine Bergung des Flugzeugs, das in 87 Metern Tiefe auf dem Seegrund liegen dürfte, sagte Kantonspolizeisprecher Florian Schneider am Freitag auf Anfrage der Nachrichtenagentur Keystone-SDA. «Die Tiefe macht die Bergung nicht einfach», erklärte Schneider. Bereits am Donnerstag seien Polizeitaucher aufgeboten worden. Bis jetzt habe aber noch niemand das Wrack auf dem Seegrund gesichtet. Ein Tauchgang in diese Tiefe brauche eine sorgfältige Vorbereitung. Die Bergung könnte daher noch einige Zeit beanspruchen. Der 70jährige Pilot hatte den Absturz bei Nebel am Donnerstag überlebt. Zu seinem Gesundheitszustand konnte der Polizeisprecher nichts Neues sagen.

Rettung mit Fischerboot
Der deutsche Pilot, der im Kanton Tessin wohnt, war am Donnerstag von Locarno aus allein mit seiner zweimotorigen Maschine gestartet. Kurz vor der Landung in Altenrhein SG verschwand das Flugzeug bei dichtem Nebel vom Radar. Der Flugplatz schlug kurz nach 11.30 Uhr Alarm. Feuerwehr, Polizei und Rettungskräfte starteten eine Suche. Der Pilot konnte sich nach dem Absturz aus dem Flugzeug befreien. Die Feuerwehr schickte ein Fischerboot zur Absturzstelle, die einige Hundert Meter vom Ufer entfernt liegt. Der Pilot wurde mit dem Boot ans Ufer gebracht und ins Spital eingeliefert. Der Mann war ansprechbar, aber unterkühlt. Das Flugzeug jedoch versank im See. Zur Sicherung der Unfallstelle und zur Aufnahme des Unfallgeschehens wurde die Schweizerische Sicherheitsuntersuchungsstelle (Sust) beigezogen. Ein Experte der Sust war am Freitag vor Ort, um zusammen mit Polizeitauchern die Bergung des Flugzeugs vorzubereiten.

Landeanflug im Nebel
Die Bedingungen für einen Landeanflug auf Altenrhein waren am Donnerstag wegen des Nebels nicht optimal. Laut Flughafen-Chef Thomas Krutzler wurden am Vormittag zahlreiche geplante Flüge abgesagt. Der Deutsche sei der einzige Pilot gewesen, der sich für einen Landeanflug entschieden habe, sagte Krutzler dem «Blick». Der Anflug auf die Piste des Flughafens Altenrhein führt kurz vor der Landung über den Bodensee bei Staad SG. Laut der St. Galler Kantonspolizei war dort der Nebel am Donnerstag so dicht, dass die Unfallstelle vom Ufer aus nicht sichtbar war. Quelle: ‚‚.

Heiß geliebter Oldie der Lüfte

Nur fliegen ist schöner, sagt man oft, wenn man ein ultimatives Erlebnis beschreiben will. Noch schöner allerdings ist das Fliegen in einer Piper Cub. Diesen Eindruck kann bekommen, wer sich mit Hans Peukert über die Fliegerei unterhält. Er ist Mitglied im Luftsportclub Bad Homburg, und in dessen Hangar auf dem Flugplatz bei Obernhain steht seine Piper Cub D-EJQO. Peukert ist einer ihrer beiden Halter. Rückblick: „Die Cub kam 1972 als Schul- und Schleppflugzeug zum LSC. Dann hat sie 1978 eine private Haltergemeinschaft übernommen, nachdem sie von moderne Schleppmaschinen abgelöst wurde“, erklärte der Neu-Anspacher Sportflieger. Fliegerkamerad Thomas Wienecke habe damals den Anteil seines Vaters übernommen und Peukert 2006 die Anteile von Otto Schwarzer.

„Wie ein VW Käfer“, sagte Peukert, als er die Motorhaube aufklappte und darunter die Zylinderköpfe des 90-PS-Motors zum Vorschein kamen. In der Tat, wie ein alter Käfer Motor, ohne technischen Schnickschnack, robust und unverwüstlich, trotz der Patina, die man beim Automotor vielleicht als Rost bezeichnen würde. „Der VW läuft und läuft und läuft“, lautete damals der Slogan, aber ob ein Käfer Baujahr 1953 immer noch laufen würde, sei dahin gestellt, die Cub jedenfalls fliegt und fliegt und fliegt. Das liegt nicht zuletzt an der akribischen Wartung der beiden Flieger: „Wir machen alles selbst“, so Peukert. Einmal im Jahr gehe es dann zu einer Werft im Sauerland, wo das Flugzeug überprüft werde, eine Art „TÜV“.

Das schöne sei, dass alles mechanisch beziehungsweise analog funktioniert, vom iPad abgesehen, auf dem die Flugkarten abrufbar sind. Zusätzlich stecken ein paar zusammengefaltete Papier-Karten im Cockpit. Einige „Uhren“ mit Nadelzeiger zeigen unter anderem Tankfüllung, Drehzahl und Flughöhe an, letztere mit einem „guten alten“ Dosenbarometer. Peukert erklärte weitere Details: „D-EJQO“ lautet die Kennung der Piper Cub PA-18 L 18 C. „D“ stehe für Deutschland, „L“ für „Liason“ und damit werde ein Verbindungsflugzeug bezeichnet. Als Verbindungs- und Aufklärungsflugzeug tat die Obernhainer Cub einst in der belgischen Armee ihren Dienst. Der gleiche Typ sei vom amerikanischen Hersteller Piper Aircraft auch an die bundesdeutsche Luftwaffe geliefert worden. Als Militärflugzeug war auch die LSC Maschine ursprünglich mit Tarnfarbe angestrichen.

Landung braucht viel Erfahrung
Ursprünglich seien die Flügel mit Baumwollstoff bespannt gewesen, der aber wurde bei einer Grundüberholung durch ein Kunstfaserstoff ersetzt, dabei waren blinde Passagiere aufgeflogen: „Mäuse hatten sich im Stoff ein Nest gebaut“, nannte Peukert augenzwinkernd einen weiteren Grund der Aktion. Scheibenbremsen statt Trommelbremsen, einige Kleinigkeiten wurden umgerüstet, aber sonst sei alles original. 10,80 Meter beträgt die Spannweite, die Länge 6,85 Meter und die Steigleistung 180 Meter pro Minute. Zwei Piloten haben in der Kanzel Platz, und die Reichweite beträgt 480 Kilometer. „Bei der Reichweite schlagen mich die Segelflug-Cracks an guten Tagen um Längen“, gibt der Motorflieger zu. „Ich fliege am liebsten mit 120 Kilometern pro Stunde“, so Peukerts Vorliebe für gemütliche Runden, obwohl es die Cub es auf 180 Kilometer pro Stunde bringt.

Wenn er einmal im Jahr mit seiner Frau zur Bienenfarm nach Berlin fliegt, gibt er schon mal etwas mehr Gas. Die Bienenfarm ist ein Oldtimerflugplatz. Die Piper-Cub-Gemeinde trifft sich auch an anderen Orten, in Gelnhausen beispielsweise. Und noch ein Kriterium ist bei der Piper Cub von Bedeutung: Die Cub ist ein Spornradflugzeug im Gegensatz zu einem Bugradflugzeug. „Bei einem Spornradflugzeug ist der Flug erst zu Ende, wenn der Flieger wieder in der Halle steht“, sagte Peukert und erläutert die Tücken: „Die Cub hat keine Landeklappen. Wie beim Doppeldecker muss sie beim Landen mit hängender Fläche, geslipped, angeflogen werden“. Außerdem mache sich die seitenwindempfindliche Maschine schnell selbstständig. Hans Peukert hat seine Liebe zur Cub und Spornradfliegerei auf einem Wasserflugzeugtyp auf dem Coloradoriver in Arizona entdeckt. Peukert fliegt aber gerne über die Taunus-Winterlandschaft: „Jetzt kann man den Limes und andere Objekte ganz deutlich sehen“.

Aber man erkenne auch die großen Waldschäden: „Die Borkenkäfer bedingt abgeholzten Flächen sehen jämmerlich aus“. Die Probleme werden aus der Vogelperspektive offensichtlich nicht kleiner. Mit an Bord ist auch immer ein Maskottchen: Ein kleiner Plüschbär mit Pilotenbrille, denn mit „Cub“ werden im Englischen auch kleine Bärenjunge bezeichnet. Quelle: ‚Frank Saltenberger in der Frankfurter Neuen Presse‚.

Wasserstoff in der Luftfahrt

Lange war Wasserstoff nur ein Forschungsthema, doch jetzt will die Branche das Gas ernsthaft zum Ersatz für Kerosin machen. Die Coronakrise könnte den grünen Wandel beschleunigen. Mitte Juni am britischen Flughafen Cranfield: Eine Gruppe Zuschauer in gelben Warnwesten steht auf dem Rasen, auch die Feuerwehr hat sich mit zwei Einsatzwagen an der Startbahn postiert. Langsam rollt sie los, die blaue Propellermaschine mit sechs Sitzen, auf zu ihrem ersten Testflug, auf in die Zukunft der Luftfahrt. Das Video vom gelungenen Debüt der Kleinmaschine vom Typ Piper Malibu wird später im Internet die Runde machen. Es ist ein wichtiger Erfolg für das britische Start-up ZeroAvia. Dessen Ingenieure haben der Maschine einen neuen Antriebsstrang verpasst: Statt Kerosin tankt sie Strom. Noch stammt der aus Akkus, aber schon beim nächsten großen Testflug im Herbst sollen ihn Brennstoffzellen aus Wasserstoff erzeugen. „Vor einem Jahr sprachen alle in der Branche noch von Batterien”, sagt Julian Renz, Projektmanager bei ZeroAvia. „Jetzt ist Wasserstoff Mittelpunkt der Diskussionen.” Weltweit investieren Staaten und Konzerne in die Massenproduktion des neuen Energieträgers. Allein Deutschland will neun Milliarden Euro in die Wasserstoff-Wirtschaft stecken, und nun hat auch die Europäische Union eine Wasserstoff-Offensive vorgestellt. Ziel dieser Initiativen ist es, das Gas zum Treibstoff des 21. Jahrhunderts zu machen. Erste Züge und Schiffe fahren schon damit, Stahlwerke und Düngemittelfabriken testen Wasserstoff als neuen Energieträger. „Wasserstoff könnte eine Möglichkeit sein, Luftfahrt emissionsfrei weiterzuführen”, sagt Jochen Kaiser, Leiter für visionäre Flugzeugkonzepte beim Münchner Luftfahrt-Think-Tank Bauhaus Luftfahrt. Quelle: ‚Wirtschaftswoche‚.

Entlebuch: Flugzeuge beinahe kollidiert

Im Entlebuch haben sich 2019 zwei Kleinflugzeuge auf 2100 Meter Höhe auf bis 80 Meter angenähert. Grund für die Beinahekollision war, dass die Maschinen nur unzureichend mit Kollisionswarngeräten ausgerüstet waren. Die Schweizerische Sicherheitsuntersuchungsstelle (Sust) hat ihren summarischen Untersuchungsbericht zu dem Vorfall publiziert, der sich am 14. September 2019 ereignet hat. Involviert waren zwei Flugzeuge der Hersteller Piper und Robin, die beide mit Passagieren private Rundflüge machten. Die Piper war in Triengen LU gestartet, wendete über dem Kanton Obwalden und wollte via Entlebuch zum Startort zurückfliegen. Beim Schimbrig wurde der Pilot, der die Maschine vom hinteren Sitz aus steuerte, von einem anderen Flugzeug überrascht. Dieses habe sein Sichtfeld durch das obere Fenster von vorne nach hinten binnen einer Sekunde und in geringem Abstand gekreuzt, schreibt die Sust. Dieses zweite Flugzeug, die Robin, war in Grenchen SO gestartet. Es war im Gegensatz zur Piper mit einem Kollisionswarngerät ausgerüstet. Der Pilot gab an, nichts von der gefährlichen Annäherung gemerkt zu haben. Die Sust schreibt, das Kollisionswarngerät habe das andere Flugzeug nicht erfassen können, da dieses nicht mit einem kompatiblen System ausgerüstet gewesen sei. Quelle: ‚‚.

Das fliegende Bärchen

Vor rund 80 Jahren entstand die Piper Cub, ein fliegender Oldtimer mit Kultstatus. In der Schweiz hat der Klassiker eine riesige Fangemeinde. Entstanden in seiner Urform ist das Flugzeug bereits Anfang der 1930er Jahre. Ab 1938 liefen die ersten Piper J-3C vom Band. Sie hatten vorwiegend Vierzylinder-Boxermotoren, deren Zylinder frei im Fahrtwind standen und so gut gekühlt wurden. Im Laufe der nächsten Jahrzehnte wurde das Konzept des zweisitzigen Hochdeckers aber immer weiter verfeinert und verbessert. Zudem ist die Cub ein sogenannter STOL-Flieger. Das ist die Abkürzung für Short Take-off and Landing und bedeutet Kurzstart- und landefähigkeit. Nicht mal 100 Meter brauchen die meisten Maschinen zum Abheben, das Landen geht noch kürzer. Die Cub ist ausserdem universell einsetzbar. Sie fliegt in der Schweiz mit normalen Rädern von Pisten oder auf Schwimmern etwa vom Vierwaldstädter- oder Zürichsee aus. Mit Skikufen geht es auf Schnee oder beispielsweise dem oft erwähnten Hüfi-Gletscher. Zudem eignet sich die Cub gut zum Hochschleppen von Segelflugzeugen. Anders als bei den meisten Flugzeugen sitzen die beiden Insassen nicht nebeneinander, sondern hintereinander. So hat der Pilot perfekte Sicht nach allen Seiten. Gleichzeitig ist die Cub auf Wunsch auch ein fliegendes Cabrio. Denn während des Flugs ist es möglich, die zweigeteilte Einstiegstüre aufzuklappen. Dann kommt zwar nicht von oben, aber zumindest von der Seite jede Menge Licht und Luft ins Cockpit. Gratis dazu gibt es einen ungestörten Blick nach unten auf die vorbeiziehende Landschaft. Quelle: ‚NZZ‚.

Nach Feierabend über der Weser fliegen

Bis abends ist Turgut Pencereci Anwalt. Danach hebt er ab. An zwei Tagen in der Woche leiht sich der 58-Jährige in seinem Verein, dem Bremer Verein für Luftfahrt (BVL), ein Flugzeug, um alles von oben zu sehen. Heute ist es ein Motorflugzeug, eine Piper PA-28, die Pencereci vor dem Hangar in die richtige Position schiebt. Sie ist leichter als ein Golf und hat vier Plätze. Pencereci macht routiniert zahlreiche Sicherheitschecks. Er bewegt die Flugzeugklappen, dreht den Propeller. „Niemals in Hetze fliegen“, mahnt er. Im Cockpit setzt er die typische Pilotensonnenbrille auf und studiert die Checkliste für den Flug, die auf seinen Knien liegt. Kaum startet der Freizeitpilot den Motor, der Piper wird, es in der engen Kabine ohrenbetäubend laut. Über die Kopfhörer meldet sich die näselnd klingende Stimme eines Fluglotsen vom Tower des Bremer Flughafens. Er und Pencereci funken auf Englisch. Mit drehendem Propeller rollt die Maschine schließlich Richtung November – Flugbahn N nach internationalem Funkalphabet. Nachdem ein Passagierflugzeug die Bahn verlassen hat, fährt Pencereci hinauf und wird schneller. Dabei scheint die Piper über die Flugbahn zu hüpfen. An ihren Fenstern saust der Bremer Flughafen vorbei. Sie hebt ab. Die Häuser der Neustadt werden kleiner, der Werdersee liegt dunkel daneben. Es ist ein bekanntes Bild für viele, die bereits in Bremen mit dem Flieger gestartet sind. Doch in der Kabine der Freizeitmaschine ist einiges anders: Selbst mit Kopfhörern hört man das laute Rasen des Propellers. Es ist kühl und etwas zugig. Außerdem fliegt die Piper nur bis unter die graue Wolkendecke. Passagierflugzeuge fliegen weiter hoch, meistens bis etwa auf eine Höhe von 10 000 Meter. Pencereci fliegt tiefer. Sehr tief. Bis 150 Meter darf er mit seiner Maschine über unbesiedelten Gebieten hinunterziehen. Wie sich das anfühlt, demonstriert er über saftig grünen Feldern im Bremer Norden. Immer tiefer fliegt die Piper und wird dabei immer häufiger von starken Windböen geschüttelt. Die Felder unter ihr sehen aus, als wären sie aus Filz oder Bastelmaterialien. Dann zieht Pencereci wieder in die Höhe. Mehr Informationen finden Sie im Originalbericht des ‚Weser-Kuriers‘.