Gliding At Squires Gate

by Gordon Bleasdale

Jack Aked had watched with great interest his father's attempts to form a Gliding Club in the thirties. Jack confided in later years that he thought the main reason that the original club failed was because his father was a strict teetotaller. Without a bar, around which members could gather and inspire each other to greater enthusiasm, he maintained that any club was doomed to failure. Also, as a member of Motor Clubs in the Fylde, he had obtained a keen appreciation of how bar profits could be used in the interests of both the proprietor and the members.

Hence, when contemplating a Gliding Club, Jack was determined to avoid his father's mistakes and he set about building up a drinking club, first and foremost, with gliding aspirations as a secondary goal. In this he was extremely successful. The club opened in August 1950 in a small building that formed the end of the disused grandstand at Squires Gate airport. Jack christened it the "Kite Club" after the glider in which he had achieved his five hour duration flight in 1948 as the first leg towards his "Silver C" badge. By the time that the club held its first dinner and dance three months later at Squires Gate Holiday camp, membership had topped the 100 mark.

Gordon Bleasdale arrived in the Fylde in August 1950 to work at Warton as an aerodynamicist in charge of the High Speed Wind Tunnel. He immediately joined the Kite Club. Gordon had first learned to glide on a week's course with the A.T.C. in 1944, when he obtained his "A" certificate, by doing a 35 second flight in a Kirby Cadet after 18 preliminary ground slides and low hops. (Two-seater gliders were extremely rare birds in those days, your first solo was your first flight !)

After obtaining his "wings" as an R.A.F. pilot during National Service, Gordon obtained his "B" and "C" certificates as a member of the College of Aeronautics Gliding Club at Cranfield. He first became acquainted with Jack Aked in July 1950 at the Long Mynd (Midland Gliding Club) where the College Club had taken their Kirby Tutor for a week's hill soaring.

Although the Kite Club was primarily a social club in its first year, Jack designated Thursday nights as "Gliding Nights" and anyone who had any interest at all in gliding was encouraged to turn up and talk about flying, over a pint or two. By the time the club's first anniversary came round, Jack announced one Thursday night that the club had made enough profit in its first year to afford its first glider. This was proudly unveiled by Jack on the 7th October 1951 as a nacelled Dagling in which Jack and Gordon demonstrated ground slides. Jack provided the motive power for this by donating to the club a 1928 Austin 16 which his garage in St. Annes had converted into a pick-up truck.

Jack said that, regretfully, it was impossible to obtain a Certificate of Airworthiness for the Daglig, as it had a cracked main spar. However he promised that by the time members were proficient enough at ground sliding to be able to progress to low hops he would have obtained for them a flyable glider. A flying committee was formed with Jack as Secretary and C.F.I., and Gordon Bleasdale as Chairman, a position he held for the next 15 years.

On Sunday afternoons, throughout the winter of 1951 - 2, hardy members could be found trundling happily up and down Squires Gate airfield behind the Austin 16, vainly trying to stop their wingtips from dragging on the ground, their enthusiasm maintained by Jack's promise that when they had become really proficient at ground-sliding, the bar profits would buy them a real flyable glider with a C. of A. This promise came true on the 3rd February 1952 when a Kirby Cadet arrived at the club. Jack and Gordon proceeded to demonstrate low hops up to about 15 feet behind the Austin 16. The serious business of teaching members to actually fly then began in earnest.

By this time several members were quite proficient in aileron control and as soon as they could demonstrate two ground slides the full length of the airfield, without touching a wingtip on the ground, in the Dagling, they converted to the Cadet. At this point Jack rigged up a hand throttle and a seat on the back of the Austin so that he could control its speed whilst shouting instructions to the pilot in the glider. The job of the "driver" in the Austin cab was to accelerate through the gears as quickly as possible up to about 30 m.p.h. at which point his control over the accelerator would disappear. From then on his sole object in life was to steer as straight a course as possible across the airfield. It tended to be a somewhat nerve-wracking experience to try to steer what was to all intents and purposes a runaway car at 30 m.p.h. across a grass pot-holed field, as the springs were very hard and the shock absorbers of the almost non-existent friction type.

As the far boundary of the perimeter track approached, one hoped that Jack would relinquish his hold on the throttle, in time for the car to slow down before it was crossed. On the rare occasions when he became so absorbed in his instructing that he forgot, the only thing to do was to declutch and allow the engine to race whilst applying the brakes hard. As these too were almost non-existent, and only worked on the back wheels anyway, the car finished up bouncing over the edge of the peri track. Since this had the effect of causing Jack to lose momentary contact with his precarious seat on the back, he was discouraged from doing it too often.

The most proficient pupils were towed across the airfield in the Cadet at just above stalling speed, so that, whenever the glider hit a bump, it would leap a couple of feet into the air. If the stick was held just aft of central, the glider would then "fly" for several yards before "landing" again. Any attempt to climb was quickly countered by Jack closing the throttle, and the remainder of the"flight" reverted to a ground slide. Pupils quickly learnt that, if they wanted to "fly", there was a very narrow band of fore and aft stick movement that would allow this. Too much backward movement and Jack would close the throttle; too much forward movement and the ground came up and clouted the skid.

After several of these airborne slides, pupils soon found the small amount of stick movement required to keep the glider airborne, just above the ground, over the whole length of the run. Following this, Jack would gradually increase the height at which he would allow them to "fly" until they were traversing the airfield at a dizzy height of 10 to 12 feet. After several of these low hops Jack would announce that they were ready for the "Big One". The length of cable was increased to 600 feet, and after a lengthy briefing, the pupil was allowed to climb to the enormous height of 150 feet, at which point Jack would close the throttle, the pupil released the cable and for the first time was in free flight. Should this flight last more than 30 seconds, the

pupil became eligible for the "A" certificate This certificate and badge were ceremoniously presented at one of the Thursday gliding evenings at the Kite Club, together with the customary pints all round, of course.

Every Sunday that the weather was suitable, flying training continued throughout 1952, and by the end of the year at the third annual dinner dance, Jack was able to announce that several members had obtained their "A" badges, and a few their "B". This required the pilot to do left and right turns through at least 90 degrees, during a 45 second free flight. As the Squires Gate authorities would not allow the club to do circuits, this was a more difficult feat than it sounds. Air Traffic Control would not allow gliders to cross the runway in use, and Jack would not allow members to fly outside the peritrack, so flying was restricted to a narrow strip on the "dead" side of the runway.

The "B" test thus involved a fairly steep 180 degree turn away from the runway in use, followed immediately by another 180 degree turn in the opposite direction in order to line up for the landing. When you consider the difficulty our present members have in recovering from a cable break at 300 feet, this was no mean achievement, particularly in view of the fact that all turns were self-taught by trial and error. You had to wait until you were back on the ground before the instructor could tell you what he thought you were doing wrong. Also your height judgment had to be pretty accurate as the Cadet did not possess spoilers or dive brakes.

The club annual subscription in those days was one guinea (£1.05) and all glider flights were free. Since the price of drinks in the bar was also a little below pub prices, all members agreed that they got extremely good value for their money. Jack Aked took his public relations duties very seriously and the club maintained extremely good relationships with the airport authorities. Jack never missed an oportunity of inviting the airport commandant or his staff over to the Kite Club, and their glasses were never allowed to become empty; in fact many of the airport staff were made honorary members of the club.

The flying clubs, however, regarded the club with suspicion and veiled hostility. The reasons for this never became apparent; the club's only "crime" was to provide alternative drinking facilities. As far as is known, no member of a flying club ever gave up flying and started gliding, and the gliding club never had any effect on the income from flying fees of the flying clubs. Even in later years, when the gliding club was allowed to do circuits, priority was always given to aircraft waiting to take off or land, and gliding was never allowed to interfere with aircraft in the circuit or on the ground.

The following example illustrates this hostility. One day, when the wind was quite strong, Jack was allowing the more experienced members to do slides and low hops. Gordon suggested to Jack that this was a good day to see just how high the Cadet would go on our length of cable. Jack agreed, and Gordon did a "pole-bender" reaching 500 feet in a few seconds. The wind was so strong at this height that Gordon found that if he flew just above the stalling speed and a few degrees out of wind he could travel backwards over the ground. When he reached the airfield boundary he put the nose down and spot-landed at the point from which he had taken off.

The last part of the flight was observed by an instructor in a flying club aircraft that was landing at the same time. The flying club wrote a letter to the airport commandant, stating that they had observed the gliding club doing circuits, and demanding that the gliding club should be banned from using the airfield. Fortunately Gordon's flight had been observed by an air traffic controller who could vouch for the fact that, during the whole flight, the glider had been pointing in more or less the same direction parallel to the runway.

During the very early days much time was lost and shoe leather expended by retrieving the Dagling from the end of a ground slide at a walking pace with the previous pupil holding the wing tip. In the clubhouse this problem was discussed over many a pint of beer. The obvious solution seemed to be to have some form of detachable wheel on the wing tip, but Jack vetoed this as he said it would put too much strain on the cracked main spar. In the final solution Jack revived a method he had used successfully with the A.T.C. A piece of exhaust tubing was welded across the towing car chassis behind the cab with one end hammered flat. Into the other end was slipped a 20 foot length of smaller exhaust tubing. This was stabilised by guy cables to the front of the car. In use, the nose hook of the glider was attached to the outer end of the tubing by a very short length of cable, and the "pilot" sat on the back of the retrieving vehicle holding the wing tip. This enabled retrieves to be done at 20 mph and increased enormously the number of "flights" per day.

Unfortunately it also increased the wear and tear on the grass surface of the airfield, and the club was asked to rest it during the winter of 1952 / 3. Flying training resumed at Easter 1953 and continued every suitable Sunday throughout the summer. Enthusiasm was so great that sufficient people were available to fly on many Wednesday evenings as well. After a day at work and an evening manipulating gliders over the airfield, it was extremely pleasant to relax in the club bar with a pint of beer, and watch the sun set over the airfield. As the bar was on the first floor, of all the buildings on the airfield, only the Control Tower had a better view.

However this increased activity and a very dry summer took its toll on the airport grass. The airport authorities were very concerned about this. The "topsoil" of the airfield was mostly sand, and without the grass to stabilise it, erosion of the surface during Blackpool's frequent gales was a strong possibility. Hence the club was asked to rest it again over the winter. By the following spring the grass was still looking decidedly poorly, and the club was asked to hold back a little longer.

However every cloud has a silver lining, and Jack, with his public relations hat on, had been working overtime on the airport commandant. Having proved over three years that the club members were a responsible body who could be trusted to behave sensibly, Jack finally won a concession that we would be allowed to fly circuits, if we bought a two-seater glider and a winch. By using the peri track to travel from the launch point to the winch, the cable retrieve vehicle would halve its trips over the grass. A few weeks and several phone calls later, Jack announced that he had successfully located both a T.21B two-seat glider and a winch. The glider, winch and an ex-army armoured car to tow the winch all duly arrived at Squires Gate, and on the 3rd October 1954 Jack and Gordon made two successful inaugural circuits. From that moment the club has gone from strength to strength.

Jack Aked has been criticised for being over-cautious, but, throughout the 14 years of gliding operations at Squires Gate, there was only one instance of any injury to a club member. To comprehend the circumstances surrounding it, the mode of operation at the time needs to be understood. All flying at Squires Gate was controlled by the Flying Control caravan at the end of the duty runway, and was mostly by red and green Aldis lamps, as most club aircraft did not have radio. When a glider was ready for launching, this fact was signalled to the control caravan by holding a single bat above the signallers head. A red light signified that we should wait, as an aircraft was expected to land or take off in the near future. However on receipt of a green light, the signaller would wave one bat up and down to indicate "take up slack". The controller would pass this instruction to the winch driver by a flashing green light. "All out" was given by waving two bats up and down, and passed to the winch driver by a steady green from the caravan. On this occasion a flying club instructor had decided to send his pupil solo, and to save time, instead of taxying back to the apron, had got out of the aircraft at the end of the landing run halfway down the runway. He then stood at the side of the runway watching his pupil backtrack down the runway. The controller assumed that the instructor was waiting to cross the runway, and gave him a steady green.

The winch driver, who had been day dreaming, suddenly woke up to see a steady green light, assumed that the glider had been pushed back to take up all the cable slack, engaged third gear, and proceeded to reel in the cable at high speed. At the launch end there were shouts of alarm as the cable snaked its way through people in front of the glider as they scattered. One member, Tony Cole, was not quite quick enough, and the Ottfur ring on the end of the cable dealt him a sharp blow on the ankle. Fortunately an X-ray at Blackpool hospital showed only a cracked bone, and it did not take long to heal.

Also in all those 14 years, on only one occasion did a glider make an unscheduled landing outside the airfield. Jack, with a pupil in the T.21, had encountered a weak thermal on the downwind leg, and circled twice in it. He then discovered that the thermal had very little "up" in it, but quite a lot of "down" between him and the launch point, with the result that he had to land on the Old Links golf course next to the airfield. As this was before the club possessed a trailer, the club members were faced with the prospect of dismantling the glider, and carrying the pieces over a mile round the airfield. After a long discussion through the chain link fence, it was decided to bring the winch near to the fence, pass the cable over, and winch the glider out of the golf course. To everyone's relief this was accomplished safely, the only damage was to Jack's ego, and the top strand of the airfield fence.

Although there were several heavy landings in the Cadet and Eon Baby, resulting in minor damage, careful control of our operations meant that we never caused any damage to anyone else's equipment at Squires Gate. However, there was one occasion that nearly gave the winch driver heart failure. The duty runway was NW, so powered aircraft were expected to to use the eastern peritrack and SW runway to reach the take-off point. However, as this could take several minutes, if the aircraft had radio, they could request permission to back-track down the duty runway. The winch had been positioned as close to the airfield boundary as possible, to give the maximum cable run, with the cable running across the western peritrack and parallel to the western edge of the runway in use.

The winch driver had watched several aircraft taxy towards him, and turn down the duty runway, and as this meant that no other aircraft was landing or taking off, the Duty Controller saw no reason why a glider should not take off whilst an aircraft was back-tracking down the runway. Hence the winch driver was not concerned to receive a "Take up slack" signal as an Auster aircraft taxied on to the peritrack to his left. On receiving the "All out" he concentrated on watching the initial climb of the glider, when out of the corner of his eye, to his horror, he realised that the aircraft had not turned down the runway, but was about to taxy underneath his cable. For about two seconds he contemplated dumping the glider, but realised that loops of cable dropped across the peritrack could get caught in the propeller. He crossed every available finger and toe, and continued pulling the glider. The aircraft pilot, oblivious to everything outside the cockpit, calmly taxied underneath the cable and never knew that about five seconds later, the glider pilot dropped 2000 feet of cable about 15 feet behind him. From then onwards we sacrificed the last 100 feet of launch height, and positioned the winch inside the peritrack.

Squires Gate, being right on the coast line, was never going to produce much in the way of thermals and hence extended flights. In spite of this we did achieve several "C" badges. One day, when the base leg was in front of a large hangar, Gordon and Shirley Clapham in the T.21 were surprised to arrive at the turning point for final approach about 150 feet higher than they had expected from their position on the downwind leg. As Jack tended to frown on sideslips in the T.21, they turned back in front of the hangar and then S-turned back on to a new base leg from which they did a lower final approach. Talking about it afterwards, it was decided that they must have been the first (and probably the only ones) to do two beats of hill-soaring at Squires Gate.

By the time we left Squires Gate finally, the club duration record stood at 27 minutes, achieved by Gordon Bleasdale in the Eon Baby in May 1959, by using weak wave lift generated by a NE wind. We also had a hard core of enthusiastic members and keen instructors who were prepared to leave the relatively safe security of Squires Gate for the stepping stone of Samlesbury, and to form the nucleus of our present club at Cock Hill.

( Here endeth the Gospel According To Gordon Bleasdale. )