Håkon_Rognlien
Hi-Fi freak
Det gjeller å ha riktig utstyr....
Artig!!
Kjenner igjen de karene der, det er nok spilt inn kort etter at jeg selv sluttet på 336 for å bli tekniker i Braathen.
Herlige bilder.
Mvh
Håkon Rognlien
Det gjeller å ha riktig utstyr....
Antakelig både det vakreste synet du kunne tenke deg og svaret på mange bønner om du var GI Joe i Vietnam og "Charlie" presset på!Denne boksen er vel en av de gromme med bare en proppæll...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1F23RciUwDE
As a former SR-71 pilot, and a professional keynote speaker, the question I'm most often asked is "How fast would that SR-71 fly?" I can be assured of hearing that question several times at any event I attend. It's an interesting question, given the aircraft's proclivity for speed, but there really isn't one number to give, as the jet would always give you a little more speed if you wanted it to. It was common to see 35 miles a minute. Because we flew a programmed Mach number on most missions, and never wanted to harm the plane in any way, we never let it run out to any limits of temperature or speed. Thus, each SR-71 pilot had his own individual “high” speed that he saw at some point on some mission. I saw mine over Libya when Khadafy fired two missiles my way, and max power was in order. Let’s just say that the plane truly loved speed and effortlessly took us to Mach numbers we hadn’t previously seen.
So it was with great surprise, when at the end of one of my presentations, someone asked, “what was the slowest you ever flew the Blackbird?” This was a first. After giving it some thought, I was reminded of a story that I had never shared before, and relayed the following. I was flying the SR-71 out of RAF Mildenhall, England , with my back-seater, Walt Watson; we were returning from a mission over Europe and the Iron Curtain when we received a radio transmission from home base. As we scooted across Denmark in three minutes, we learned that a small RAF base in the English countryside had requested an SR-71 fly-past. The air cadet commander there was a former Blackbird pilot, and thought it would be a motivating moment for the young lads to see the mighty SR-71 perform a low approach. No problem, we were happy to do it.
After a quick aerial refueling over the North Sea , we proceeded to find the small airfield. Walter had a myriad of sophisticated navigation equipment in the back seat, and began to vector me toward the field. Descending to subsonic speeds, we found ourselves over a densely wooded area in a slight haze. Like most former WWII British airfields, the one we were looking for had a small tower and little surrounding infrastructure. Walter told me we were close and that I should be able to see the field, but I saw nothing. Nothing but trees as far as I could see in the haze. We got a little lower, and I pulled the throttles back from 325 knots we were at. With the gear up, anything under 275 was just uncomfortable. Walt said we were practically over the field—yet; there was nothing in my windscreen. I banked the jet and started a gentle circling maneuver in hopes of picking up anything that looked like a field. Meanwhile, below, the cadet commander had taken the cadets up on the catwalk of the tower in order to get a prime view of the fly-past. It was a quiet, still day with no wind and partial gray overcast. Walter continued to give me indications that the field should be below us but in the overcast and haze, I couldn't see it.. The longer we continued to peer out the window and circle, the slower we got. With our power back, the awaiting cadets heard nothing. I must have had good instructors in my flying career, as something told me I better cross-check the gauges.
As I noticed the airspeed indicator slide below 160 knots, my heart stopped and my adrenalin-filled left hand pushed two throttles full forward. At this point we weren't really flying, but were falling in a slight bank. Just at the moment that both afterburners lit with a thunderous roar of flame (and what a joyous feeling that was) the aircraft fell into full view of the shocked observers on the tower. Shattering the still quiet of that morning, they now had 107 feet of fire-breathing titanium in their face as the plane leveled and accelerated, in full burner, on the tower side of the infield, closer than expected, maintaining what could only be described as some sort of ultimate knife-edge pass.
Quickly reaching the field boundary, we proceeded back to Mildenhall without incident. We didn't say a word for those next 14 minutes. After landing, our commander greeted us, and we were both certain he was reaching for our wings. Instead, he heartily shook our hands and said the commander had told him it was the greatest SR-71 fly-past he had ever seen, especially how we had surprised them with such a precise maneuver that could only be described as breathtaking. He said that some of the cadet’s hats were blown off and the sight of the plan form of the plane in full afterburner dropping right in front of them was unbelievable. Walt and I both understood the concept of “breathtaking” very well that morning, and sheepishly replied that they were just excited to see our low approach.
As we retired to the equipment room to change from space suits to flight suits, we just sat there-we hadn't spoken a word since “the pass.” Finally, Walter looked at me and said, “One hundred fifty-six knots. What did you see?” Trying to find my voice, I stammered, “One hundred fifty-two.” We sat in silence for a moment. Then Walt said, “Don’t ever do that to me again!” And I never did.
A year later, Walter and I were having lunch in the Mildenhall Officer’s club, and overheard an officer talking to some cadets about an SR-71 fly-past that he had seen one day. Of course, by now the story included kids falling off the tower and screaming as the heat of the jet singed their eyebrows. Noticing our HABU patches, as we stood there with lunch trays in our hands, he asked us to verify to the cadets that such a thing had occurred. Walt just shook his head and said, “It was probably just a routine low approach; they're pretty impressive in that plane.” Impressive indeed.
Little did I realize after relaying this experience to my audience that day that it would become one of the most popular and most requested stories. It’s ironic that people are interested in how slow the world’s fastest jet can fly. Regardless of your speed, however, it’s always a good idea to keep that cross-check up…and keep your Mach up, too.
Mer av det samme flyet:Endelig i lufta igjen:
Sjekk den rå air-to-air-videoen av F-104 Starfighter - Flynytt.no
Husker en gammelonkel av meg som jobbet på Bodø Hovedflystasjon hadde mange historier om dette.
Jeg så Antonov'en lette fra Schiphol for noen år siden. Sjekk vingene på beistet. Når flyet står i ro peker vingene nedover. Etter takeoff er vingene nesten vannrette. Vingene " letter" faktisk før flyet.Apropos saktegående fly..... jeg så denne jævelen ta av i Frankfurt, noe av det mest surrealistiske jeg har sett.
Så ut som om den sto stille i lufta. SYKT stor.
En av mine to absolutte sakteflyvende favoritter. Den andre er selvsagt Bleriot....
Da jeg for en mannsalder siden jobbet i tårnet på Værnes hadde vi i et par uker besøk av en skvadron Vulcan. Det var et utrolig fly. Den er bare sååå jævlig mye større enn hva man får inntrykk av når man ser den på bilder. En vanvittig svær flaggermus som har ytelser ( "performance" på fagspråket ) som tar pusten fra deg første gang du opplever det. jeg hadde en som dro av fra Værnes og stakk rett til værs, bokstavlig talt. Han passerte Gråkallen ( ved Trondheim ) i over 40.000 fot! Det er rimelig imponerende.Ganske så spektakulær Aero Vulkan også
Skikkelig badass.
Edit: Satte inn riktig film.
En fantastisk bragd. Det er vel kun britene som finner på slik galskap, og får det til.Denne er fin:
https://youtu.be/PBJ99bIhAVk
Da de måtte ta ut Avroen fra skraphaugen og sette både fly og mannskap på en skikkelig prøve.
Var vel eneste gangen de var i bruk.
Nei, jeg var bare en særdeles flyinteressert guttepjokk som bodde kun få meter unna flyplassen i General Fleischersgt.BeetleBug: jobbet du på Bodø Hovedflystasjon på sytti og evt åttitallet? Min grandonkel Arnfinn Lyngsnes jobbet der i de tider. Noen du kjente?
Vi fortsetter å kysse Natoræva (les USA) og besluttet å kjøpe jagerfly som både den sivilie og profesjonelle delegasjonen stemte nei til. Utrolig! Og nå truer en klovn i USA å degradrere hele alliansen.Jaja. dette har våre "kjære" regjeringer besluttet å legge ned, så kan heller milliardsluket F35 stå i telt på Ørlandet - i alle fall inntil videre...
som det heter på godt nordnorsk: "Vettet hefta de ikkje..."
Nå vet jeg ikke hvilken "delegasjon" du sikter til, men jeg var involvert i deler av prosessen som sivilt ansatt, og kan vel si så mye som at flyverne tilsynelatende hadde bestemt seg for F-35 fra starten av. Hvis du tror gutta flyboys ville vært happy med en Saab tror jeg du skulle snakket litt mer med dem. Det hadde selvsagt vært mulig for sivile myndigheter å tvinge gjennom et annet utfall, men det ville blitt mye oppstyr.Vi fortsetter å kysse Natoræva (les USA) og besluttet å kjøpe jagerfly som både den sivilie og profesjonelle delegasjonen stemte nei til. Utrolig! Og nå truer en klovn i USA å degradrere hele alliansen.
Resultatet var gitt allerede fra starten av og det hadde vært "ett fett" hva både den sivilie og profesjonelle delegasjonen hadde konkludert med.Likevel er det interessant å huske at Eurofighter trakk seg fra hele greia, da de mente at resultatet allerede var gitt....
Kunne du forklare hva denne "delegasjonen" er for noe?Resultatet var gitt allerede fra starten av og det hadde vært "ett fett" hva både den sivilie og profesjonelle delegasjonen hadde konkludert med.