The CAA, today, special delivery, kindly sent me a licence to fly again!
Clearly, they have double checked that the report from Uncle Sam, causing immediate suspension of my licence, that I had been "engaged in criminal activity" and had landed on the road, right outside the gates of President Bush's Ranch in Texas, was quite erroneous. The Federal Aviation Authority confirm no aviation offence had occurred, when I had actually landed in a farmer's field, 5 miles from the ranch in a severe thunderstorm.
Now all I need is a US Visa, as quick as possible, in order to fly the wee cub onto Argentina and the British Falkand Islands.
That obtaining a visa is not going to be easy. I think I may need 'a little help from my friends', as the Beatles would say.
Meantime, tomorrow, it is up with the early birds to motor the bike down South and pick up another WW2 Piper Cub. I will fly her back, over the water, to South Wales for work on her for a proposed flight south for Cape Town, South Africa. Only Basking sharks to contend with, I hope!
L Klee [lloydklee@aviationsafety.co.nz] was put in the post, for me, the latest French distress beacon but with only 12 miles to cross, between England and Wales without a dinghy either, I'll risk it.
Some urgent ground work was needed today for her arrival. The afternoon was spent trying to get those damned horses to pay for their keep and eat down the rest of my 600 feet runway. I managed to erect two of the three wind socks vital for the landing, usually hampered with a cross wind from the prevailing westerly. The chain saw was at work as well, that Kirstie will no doubt notice in day light, my having lopped off the top of a tree a little for a slightly shallower approach. Every inch counts when handling a new lady.