Sunday 17th July and Insch is having its usual glorious Summer flying weather - winds from every point of the compass and the standard bone-jarring turbulence putting the bash into circuit bashing. Ron and I had half-planned to fly up to Rovie Farm, home of Stan Moody and his remarkable 447 Goldwing, but had decided to leave it for a better day. Airborne and heading over the hill towards the Alford basin to try a few circuits in a friendly farmer's field, who should we hear on the radio but Stan himself calling in from a couple of miles Huntly-wards of the strip, flying in company with Martin from Inverness in his purple metal-flake Flash.

We continued with our planned circuits of the aforementioned field, which involved approaches over the Alford road under the scrutiny of a couple of bored traffic cops lurking in wait for speeding motorists. Having sufficiently entertained the cows in the neighbouring pasture, we returned to the strip - me trailing large quantities of freshly cut crop of some sort on the back wires - where we found Stan and Martin unwinding after what had been a lengthy and not entirely turbulence-free trip down from Dornoch against the prevailing Southerly wind. I had every intention of packing it in for the day at this stage, but somehow got talked into accompanying Stan and Martin back to Dornoch with Ron. So it was in with the long range tank, put the 1/2 mil chart in the coke bottles (don't ask!) and head off.

Heading towards Huntly, we climbed towards 4,000' in an effort to get above the turbulence and for a while it seemed we had been successful. Delta Bravo's 447 struggled to keep up with the two 582-powered trikes, while Stan had to slow the efficient Goldwing right down to allow us all to keep up. Eventually reaching 4,000' just S. of Huntly, I could see the distinctive shape of the Goldwing being rocked in turbulence which became steadily worse while we passed under some dark cumulus as we neared Fochabers. It was round about here that Martin got a fright when the bar was suddenly smashed back into his chest then jerked forwards to the front strut. Although I didn't experience anything quite that bad, I joined him in a descent in search of quieter air.

Once we got out over the coastal plain, skirting the twin MATZs of Lossiemouth and Kinross, it was smooth, blue-sky flying. I was down to 2,500', and so it was time to punish the engine some more and climb back up to 4,000' for the crossing of the Moray Firth. Passing 3,500' I had Nairn to port as I flew past the town a few hundred yards offshore. Reaching 4,000' I turned North towards the Black Isle just before reaching the construction yard at Ardersier. At 4,000' the 3-mile crossing was not traumatic, and I could take the time to admire the view. To the left I could see Inverness and the Kessock Bridge, while ahead lay the green tapestry of the Black Isle and beyond it the line of stacked rigs stretching for miles down the centre of the Cromarty Firth. In the far north-west I could just make out the misty, outlandish silhouettes of Suilven and Stac Polly. One thing I couldn't see, however, was the other aircraft, as I had fallen behind them while climbing to my safety altitude for the crossing. Martin radioed that he was waiting for me, circling over 'the gap'. I couldn't see him, but eventually I realised that he meant the Cromarty Firth, the stretch of water between Cromarty and Nigg, and not the gap I was currently crossing! He circled back as I performed the tricky task of switching fuel tanks, then I followed him over the third water crossing and down towards the airstrip on the sandy Northern shore of the Dornoch Firth. Spiralling down into the circuit over sparkling blue water and golden sand made a joyous finale to the journey, leaving only the 10-knot 70º crosswind across runway 10 to deal with. The long, smooth grass strip gave time to sort it out, and I detriked after a memorable hour and thirty minutes. Stan ran us all into town for an excellent fish supper, then Ron and I refuelled and 'phoned home.

Quantum, Flash and Raven at Dingwall

After being on the ground for an hour and fifteen minutes it was time to say good-bye to Stan and Martin. I took off first, circled to 800' then climbed out over the firth. In a smooth cloudless sky Ron came alongside for a photo session, then we climbed to four thousand for the crossing to Ardersier. Ron was well to my left and higher, and about half way over I lost visual contact with him. Although we exchanged positions on the radio and were within three miles of each other most of the way back I only caught a brief glimpse shortly after Nairn, when we mutually identified the rape field Ron was over.

Ron & the Quantum over the Black Isle

The flight back was smooth most of the way at 3,000', so it was with some dismay that I heard Ken calling Ron up and offering to chase the cows out of the field if the crosswind was too much. By the time I was over Leslie at 3,000ft Ron was safely on the ground, and I started to spiral down towards a long final. Below three thousand I was flung all over the place by some quite frightening lumps of air, eventually powering in towards 13 with 45º of drift on to a half-decent landing. One hour forty-five, four high-quality hours in total for the day.