UP, UP AND AWAY!
KEvIN CRUMPLIN slides open a pair of huge hangar doors and there, in pristine condition, rebuilt from scratch, are four Tiger Moths. He plans to take me up in one. If I show a modicum of common sense, he’ll even let me take control of the stick — albeit briefly and on the understanding he will be able to over-ride any move I make from the rear seat.
We’re at Henstridge Airfield, near Sherborne in Somerset, and the skies are clear. Kevin, 77, is probably the country’s leading authority when it comes to rebuilding these iconic biplanes that trained virtually every British pilot during World War II.
‘When I was 12, a Tiger was one of the first models I built. I’ve had a fascination with them ever since,’ he says.
It’s a fascination he is sharing with others, offering a rare opportunity to experience open cockpit flying.
‘These were the aircraft that helped this country win the war,’ says Kevin. ‘It is remarkable they are still flying.’
True, but these four are only still flying because Kevin puts in hours of his time and spends much of his precious resources on what he calls ‘real flying’.
He takes 12 months to rebuild a Tiger Moth. He bought the one I am about to fly in — G-ANFP — for £10,000 and spent a further £50,000 on it.
Occasionally, he will sell one of his restored planes to another enthusiast to replenish funds and in January 2013 he set up Tiger Moth Training at Henstridge with experienced pilots, Annabelle Burroughes and Clive Davidson.
Kevin shops for old instruments on eBay and goes to aero jumble sales in the hope of finding rare spare parts.
The planes look and fly exactly as they did in the Thirties. They didn’t have brakes because that would have added weight — and they still don’t.
Kevin and I wheel ours out on to the grass and consult an aviation map. Annabelle and a volunteer manoeuvre a second one into place because we are to do some formation flying at 1,200 ft. I won’t be at the controls for that.
In winter, we’d be wearing sheepskin flying jackets, but instead we pull on fire-resistant all-in- one suits, a leather flying helmet with sewn-in headphones and ‘Biggles’ goggles.
After a friend of Kevin’s swings the propeller to start the engine, we wait four minutes to warm up the engine oil. Then it’s ‘chocks away’.
The take- off speed is 65 mph, which means we travel only 100 yards before lifting into the air.
There might be a steel fuselage, but it feels like balsa wood. There doesn’t seem to be much of a wind, but we bob up and down like washing on the line.
Kevin has stressed that if the engine fails, ‘you can land a Tiger anywhere’. That’s good.
We’re cruising at 80 mph. At times, the two planes’ wings are not much more than 20 ft apart. When we go up, the other plane goes down and vice-versa. Then we bank together. It’s almost acrobatic. Below us, Somerset shimmers. We flutter over the villages of Sturminster Newton, Marnhull, Hinton St Mary. Exhilaration whistles through the cockpit. It’s tempting to stretch a hand back to Kevin like Robert Redford did with Meryl Streep in Out Of Africa. Not sure what he would make of that. Suddenly, Kevin’s voice booms through my headphones: ‘Can you hear me?’ ‘You bet.’ ‘Are you ready to fly this thing?’ ‘Of course, I am.’
‘Then take hold of the stick gently in your right hand and move it slowly to the left.’
I do and the plane starts to move to the left, guided by the rudder at the tail. We do the same thing to the right, but not for long because the wind gets up alarmingly and I lose my nerve.
WE DO another circle over fields of stubble. Occasionally I lean out for a blast of fresh, warm air. On the approach to the airfield we cut our speed and touch down doing a mere 60 mph. It’s a gracious landing befitting the grand dame of aviation. The grass brings us to a gentle halt.
‘ That was boisterous,’ says Kevin, as we clamber out. That’s how he likes it, I suspect.
Tiger Moths are the ultimate biplanes. Designed by Geoffrey de Havilland in the Thirties, they remained in service until being replaced by the de Havilland Chipmunk in 1952. Nearly 9,000 were built, of which 400 around the world remain airworthy. The plane was known as ‘The Trainer of the Empire’.
Kevin grew up near Johannesburg and left South Africa aged 20 to come to Britain.
Fittingly, when he joined the Royal Navy’s Fleet Air Arm in 1960, he did his pilot training in Tiger Moths. After six years, he left for a career in personnel.
‘Few people understand these planes better than Kevin,’ says Stuart McKay, who runs the de Havilland Moth Club. ‘And to fly with him when he knows every nut and bolt of the plane is one of life’s great thrills.’
I can vouch for that.
TRAVEL FACTS
FLIGHTS with Tiger Moth Training at Henstridge Airfield ( tigermothtraining.co.uk, 07789 324319) cost from £140 for 20 minutes.