Miscellaneous photos


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Miscellaneous photos

This page holds photos that do not belong in any of the other categories. At least, none that I could think of at the time.


Parachuting

Photo of a parachutist in 1982

Ripcord


I took this photo from beside the landing target at Thruxton airfield; a small sand pit. I do not know the parachutist’s identity. I recommend parachuting as a simple aviation activity.

Note the un-aerodynamic simple geometry of the ’round’ parachute canopy. Modern parachutes are rectangular and they resemble paragliders. (Paragliders were developed from ‘square’ gliding parachutes.) These round parachutes were, according to my instructors, originally emergency aircrew parachutes left over from the Korean War. You steered them by pulling on ‘toggles’ that distorted the two L-shaped slots in the canopy.


Parachuting drawting highlited with Tippex (or Snopake) about 1979

Drawing highlighted with Tippex (or Snopake) about 1979

I made most of my parachute drops, including my first, from a Cessna 206 – a fairly beefy single-engine monoplane with a high wing. Parachute lift modifications include removal of all the seats except the pilot’s seat and also the big cargo/passenger side door is absent. As a parachutist, while holding one hand over the deployment handle (rip chord) of your emergency reserve ‘chute to prevent its deployment handle snagging on anything, you climb aboard and kneel on the floor. Your main parachute, if you are a beginner like me, does not have a deployment handle. It has a chord connected to a shackle on the floor of the aircraft so it opens automatically when you are a fixed distance away.

Cessna 206 photo from Wikimedia Commons

Cessna 206 photo from Wikimedia Commons

I made my first jump at Shobdon airfield, Hereford, in 1979. It was the inaugural jump of the Polytechnic of Wales (now Glamorgan University) Parachute Club, which I founded. I did more parachuting at Thruxton in Hampshire in 1982.

For my first drop at one of those fields, I do not recall whether at Shobdon or Thruxton, I and my fellow parachutists were treated to the sight of the blue flashing lights of an ambulance, which show up really well at dusk, picking up someone with a broken leg!

The thought of crawling out onto the wing, through a hurricane of wind, clinging on to struts and wires hundreds of feet above the earth, and then giving up even that tenuous hold of safety and substance, left in me a feeling of anticipation mixed with dread, of confidence restrained by caution, of courage salted through with fear.

— from The Spirit of St. Louis, 1953, by Charles A. Lindbergh, first to fly solo across the Atlantic

The airplane lifts off in a roar of cold air and that big space of nothing by my right side where the cargo door would normally be and, at 300 feet above the ground, the jump master (next to the pilot) holds up three fingers and yells “Three hundred feet!” which you cannot hear because of the din. Below that, if the aircraft suffers a dire emergency, you stay with it because it is too low to jump safely. Above that, if the wings break off or something similar happens, you dive out the side. (See this video of just that happening.) Anyway, the kneeling position is OK for the first couple of minutes or so, but after the climb to over 2,000 feet and after several high-G turns, which the airplane has to do to get into position for the next person to jump, it is excruciating. (However, after a few jump lifts, I found I no longer noticed it.)

Fortunately, for my first jump, I was the nearest the door, that is, where the door would normally be, and therefore the first to jump. I could not wait to get out and relieve the pain in my knees. We had made a couple of high-G turns already while the jump master tossed out streamers to gauge the wind, which if too strong or variable could cause him to cancel the jump.

One bright morning at Thruxton, which occupies a slight rise in the landscape, the land around was covered in fog, although the airfield was clear. Tree tops and church spires protruded up out of the sunlit white layer, like something in a fanciful postcard. Only, a postcard is less exciting and does not cause your ears to pop with the reducing air pressure as the airplane climbs.

Here is a snippet from my still un-published novel:

Grassland, some of it flat, surrounded two thin grey lines crossing at an obtuse angle with tiny buildings clustered near them–the latter bearing no obvious relation to the enormous hangars and other structures that had surrounded him on the airfield–and white frost in the deeper hollows shone in morning sunlight. As best he could with the 5mph forward speed afforded by the old round parachute, he steered towards the target, a windsock in a sand pit with an army truck standing beside it. One moment he was slowly descending towards a flat expanse of pale green and the next moment frosty grass rushed up and he hit hard. His legs absorbed most of the energy of the impact – he missed the sand pit – and he rolled on the ground.

On another light airplane flight (not parachuting) again in sunshine, we climbed into haze, which momentarily thickened around us and we were flying by instruments because of ‘white out’ – we were climbing towards a low winter afternoon sun. Suddenly we broke out into the clear and in front of us and all around was an alternative universe consisting of an infinite sheet of rippled snow. As we climbed above it, it became translucent grey and, looking down, you could see the green and winter brown-grey semi-urban landscape of Surrey below.

The perimeter track of Thruxton airfield is the famous motorcycle racing circuit. It was then used for racing about one day a week. However, glider towing, light aircraft and helicopter training were all carried out at the same time as parachute training. Some years later a woman parachutist was killed there by the rotors of a manoeuvring helicopter.


Scenery

Mudeford and Highcliffe from Hengistbury Head in 1983 or '84

Mudeford and Highcliffe from Hengistbury Head in 1983 or ’84

These photos are of low quality because I used a compact 110 format film camera.

Christchurch from Hengistbury Head in 1984 or '85

Christchurch from Hengistbury Head in 1984 or ’85

The hill in the distance (behind the priory) in the second photo is where I taught myself to fly my kit-built standard Rogallo hang glider in 1974. The other side of that hill is Bournemouth airport…


The Barbican, London, in 1988

The Barbican, London, in 1988

In the summer of 1987, after a long period of unemployment, I started work (computer programming again) in central London. Travelling home to the south coast on Friday after work, if the weather was clear, I walked from whichever tube station to Waterloo main railway station. My route took me through the Barbican.

Boat moored on the river Avon

Boat moored on the river Avon


A week after I started work in London, my mother suffered a semi paralysing stroke (a blood clot in the brain). She was unable to walk or to speak properly thereafter. I spent my Saturday and Sunday afternoons (and holidays) wheeling her around the local area. I took this photo of a vintage boat with a 110 format camera that I carried with me.

Harbour-side track

This harbour-side track is a few minutes away from the nursing home where my mother lived in 1988

Catamaran at the Run, Christchurch, Dorset, in 1988 or '89

Catamaran at the Run, Christchurch, Dorset, in 1988 or ’89

Testing a camera prior to going overseas for the first time in January 1989

Testing my remote shutter release prior to going overseas for the first time in January 1989

Camp site at Ager, Catalonia, Spain, September 1989

The old camp site at Ager, Catalonia, northern Spain, in September 1989


The 3000 ft high ridge at Ager, Catalonia, Spain, creates its own weather. There is a plateau at the 2000 ft level used for paraglider training. CIVL is the hang gliding committee of the international aviation federation, but the abbreviation here is that adopted by the local hang gliding business.


Photo of boat lift at Port Solent in 1990

Port Solent on the Hampshire coast in October 1990


I worked as a contract developer of computer-based training for a navy software house near Port Solent during the first Gulf war.


DH Sea Vixen static display MFI 1998

De Haviland Sea Vixen static display

This De Haviland Sea Vixen, on display outside Revvo Castors (previously the De Haviland factory) in Christchurch was eventually vandalised and moved into safer accommodation.

When we moved to the south coast in about 1964, Christchurch airfield was still in use and I experienced my first flight from there. I was in the observer’s seat in an Auster light observation aircraft, used for ‘artillery spotting’ in World War 2. It was a grass field and I still recall the undulations of the aircraft on its take-off roll over the smooth but slightly humpy ground. As we climbed out, my young eyes were unaccustomed to the third dimension on that scale and my new perspective above the ground caused a curious optical illusion.

Rather than having any sensation of climbing I felt that the ground was sinking away from the airplane and a new landscape invisible from below was spreading out around us.

— from The Sky Beyond by Sir Gordon Taylor, 1963

Elkie Brooks, Rona Web, and others on Lanzarote in January or February 1993

Singer Elkie Brooks, hang gliding instructor Rona Web, and others on Lanzarote, Canary Islands, in January or February 1993

The photo of Elkie, Rona, and others is of poor quality because light leaked in to the camera. It was my hang gliding wing-mounted camera and it impacted the ground one too many times. Elkie’s husband and sound engineer Trevor Jordan is a master hang glider pilot. See the Elkie Brooks web site.


After another attempt at self employment failed (see Aviation computer-based training) I obtained temporary work programming hydraulic rams on a ‘simulator ride’ to be used in a marketing scheme for a pharmaceutical company. It seemed to me (and still seems to me) that the effort could have been more profitably directed at flying training. However, my definition of profit doubtless differs from the economic definition.

Computer programmer working in a barn in 1994

Working in a barn in 1994

I worked with a computer set up in a barn. When it rained, not only did I get wet, so did the computer. We moved into a drier office soon after.


Hang glider art

Everard Cunion in March 1997

Me in March 1997

Unlike Mark Stucky, who also started hang gliding in 1974, I never became an astronaut.

Debbie Milliken in November 1997

Debs Milliken in November 1997

Debs, the sister of one of my hang gliding friends, suffered from multiple sclerosis. She ended her own life in 2014. For more, see this Daily Echo report on 8th November 2014.

Sywell aerodrome, April 2003

Sywell aerodrome, April 2003


In 2003, I bought my first new hang glider since 1974. It was made by Aeros, originally part of Antonov, in the Ukraine. I collected it from Sywell aerodrome, home of Flylight.

Photo of drawings for hang glider sail artwork

The star was easy, but the red edging was more involved.

Photo of hang glider sail artwork under construction

Red Star in Orbit


In this photo the red star is almost complete: Made of sticky-back sailcloth from a sailboat chandler, the result of this effort on my Aeros Discus was dramatic. It had a plain white upper surface and leading edge and a plain red under-surface.

Photo of a hang glider rigged in a garden

Me and my Aeros Discus

Everard flying the Discus over the sea at Ringstead

Discus over the sea at Ringstead

I had previously added pre-WW2 US stars to my UP TRX 160.


More scenery

Photo of buildings at sunset

Sunset at my weekday accommodation about 2005


Insect

Insect

This insect, photographed in 2009, had a 25 millimetre span and was 14 mm long. (I do not recall how I measured it.)

Sunset in September 2011

Sunset in September 2011


Dragonfly

Dragonfly


This monster was in the back garden in July 2012. I thought at first it was a prank by one of my hang gliding friends who also flies radio control helicopters…

After it landed on the fence, I took this photo from a safe distance. Likely it is a Southern Hawker (judging by this dragonfly identification web site). I assume that any hawk it encounters dies of fright on the spot.

Snow in Christchurch, Dorset, England January 2013

Snow in January 2013

We rarely have snow settle this near the south coast of England.

Snow in Christchurch, Dorset, England, in January 2013

Snow in January 2013


Photo of the moon

Destination Moon


I took this pic of the moon with a Fuji Finepix HS 30 EXR through a break in cloud cover during its close approach on August 11th, 2014.

Film crew from Holland, December, 2014

Film crew from Holland, December, 2014

Anoushka, in fur coat and hat, is a life-size doll made in Vladivostok, Russia, in 2010.

Flower poking up over the yard fence in 2019

Flower poking up over the yard fence in 2019

Late afternoon sunshine in February 2019 illuminated this flower poking up over the yard fence.

Brownsea Island from Poole Quay in May 2019

Brownsea Island from Poole Quay in May 2019

Christchurch Priory from Hengistbury Head in May 2019

Christchurch Priory from Hengistbury Head in May 2019

I obtained the idea for the photo of Christchurch Priory from Hengistbury Head from a photo by Roger Hollman, whose photo from the same spot on a clear sunrise must be seen. The Priory is about two miles from the camera and St. Catherine’s hill is three miles farther than that.

I taught myself to fly a hang glider from the north-east slope (the far side) of the hill in 1974. In early 1975, after being discovered by Bournemouth air traffic control, I reached an agreement with them that I could continue to fly as long as I did not go higher than the anti-collision beacon towers (on the horizon in the photo).

Emily and Everard at Corfe Castle in May 2019

Emily and me at Corfe Castle in May 2019

Emily and David, from North Carolina, were fascinated by the historic buildings and landscape of this part of the Dorset coast when they visited me in May 2019.


Vintage motocross

Scale model Vintage motocross bike with rider with print of wine bottles painting

Vintage motocross

Here, the models look smaller than they really are because Raymond Campbell paints his wine bottle scenes larger than life, or at least these prints are larger than life. Note that the apparent inner wooden frames, on which the shadows of overhanging cheese and bottle opener are cast, are part of the paintings.

See my page Motocross in miniature, Building Joël Robert’s Suzuki motocross bike in 1/12th scale, and Mr Moto Cross, My Revell 1/12th scale Husqvarna motocross bike.

Scale model Vintage motocross bike with rider with print of wine bottles painting

Vintage motocross 2

I have the light coming from the wrong side to match that in the paintings. Oh, well…


Vintage Spitfire

Tamiya 1/48th scale Spitfire and wine bottle art by Raymond Campbell

Tamiya 1/48th scale Spitfire and wine bottle art by Raymond Campbell

Here, the Spitfire looks more like 1/72nd scale than 1/48th only because Raymond Campbell paints his wine bottle art larger than life, or at least these prints are larger than life.

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2 Responses to Miscellaneous photos

  1. Emily says:

    Those last two photographs of Brownsea Island and Christchurch priory are quite bright and beautiful…I feel as though I could be standing right there! 😉

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