Call Aeromega on 01223 294488. (UK)

I’ll be in touch.

If you need more information at this stage, my phone number is 07725 750103.

In the meantime, enjoy the video above!

Tim

Learn to fly helicopters with Tim.

I’ll be in touch with options and prices to help you choose a helicopter experience that’s perfect for you.

If you need more information at this stage, my phone number is 07725 750103.

In the meantime, enjoy the video above!

Tim

(Or click here to go back to the helicopter trial lessons experience day page).

Landing area selected when directly overhead, followed by airspeed reduction to zero, then spiral descent, then a little airspeed for the flare. Throttle not closed, as not worth the risk in such an isolated location.

Note the clues as to wind direction given by the birds taking off when helicopter is on short finals.

Well worth practising engine failure drills, as rare it may be but it’s happened to me for real. In my opinion, arriving accurately at a suitable spot, at the right height, preferably into wind, and without too much forward speed is the most important bit.

Robinson R44 Astro. Pilot Tim Gilbert.

Learn to fly helicopters with Tim.

The first beach we came to seemed just about wide enough, and we landed, leaving the engine running for long enough to check that we were alone. The helicopter sank deep into the glassy sand, leaving the tail within inches of a swirl of brilliant white shells.

Slowly and carefully, we transferred the fuel from the barrels of fuel from Waingapu. Either the island was deserted, or the locals here were more timid. There were all sorts of eerie crackling noises in the bushes that came down close to the edge of the beach, but no actual sign of anyone.

I was just waiting for a dart from a blowpipe in my back.

It was hot, humid, and oddly quiet. The helicopter’s engine ticked quietly as it cooled down, and the sea shells rattled occasionally as the gentle waves melted onto them. I took some video, and we left quickly.

Learn to fly helicopters with Tim.

I couldn’t help reflecting that we were again being forced to confront increasing and cumulative levels of risk. We were flying, exhausted, in total darkness, over a sea with no rescue cover, into a headwind, running on totally unsuitable fuel, navigating with a map faxed from England, towards a tiny airfield surrounded by volcanoes of unknown height, and out of radio contact. How long could our luck last, I wondered?

With another 30 minutes to run, our eyes had got their night vision but we could still not see land, and it was very lonely. We were tense, quiet and apprehensive, Martin concentrating on the instruments, lit now by torchlight. I was peering outside in case I had made some huge navigational error using the faxed maps and we were about to crash into a volcano or run out of fuel in the middle of the sea, miles from land. But it was hard to see outside, because the torchlight was reflected in the Perspex of the windscreen, making outside seem even more absurdly dark.

With about 15 minutes to run there was a faint glimmer of yellow light in the distance, which turned out to be Kupang town, and we tried to raise Kupang airfield on the radio. Silence.

Learn to fly helicopters with Tim.

At that time, Kupang airport had a busy life acting as the supply centre for the Non Governmental Organisations dealing with the East Timor refugee problem, and the place was littered with clapped out buses and trucks to prove it. Even so, the airport management had dealt fairly and efficiently with us, and we thanked them for having put the airport lights on for us.

“Your English very hard to understand on radio” the controller had explained gravely, as if suggesting that I take some further training. “My English I use a lot for UN planes arrival”.

“Your English very good” I assured him “and you save our lives last night”.

He smiled in gratitude, and shook my hand in farewell.

We got away quickly, climbed over a small hill at the edge of the airport, and headed south-south-east over the sea. The drone of the engine was even and familiar to us, and we settled down for the hours ahead of us. We spent ten minutes chasing a group of sharks to get photographs, only to conclude that they were in fact dolphins.

We rehearsed slowly and carefully the procedures to adopt if we had engine failure; who was to get out first, what forward and vertical speeds we should try and touch the water at, should we open the passenger door on the way down or later, should we launch one liferaft or two, how could we remember to take our radio beacon and some water with us.

Learn to fly helicopters with Tim.

Suddenly, we woke up to the significance of the fact that the sun was indeed touching the horizon behind us. We were going east, and we were more than 20 degrees farther south than when we started out from home, so it got dark much earlier than we were used to in the UK. And because we were much closer to the tropics the days were ending more suddenly, without much in the way of twilight. We should have taken all this into account, and kept going, rather than wasting time drinking Coca-cola in the lonely desert.

Learn to fly helicopters with Tim.