Airtest – Rallye Tobago

Mention Rallye to your average Australian-based pilot and he’ll immediately conjure up visions of STOL performance, a not-too-brilliant cruise performance and an aircraft that was labelled (unfairly) a bit of a gimmick for Aussie.

Aerospatiale’s Tobago is a brilliant design from all angles, put together by SOCATA and a formidable competitor to 180 hp types like the Sundowner and Tiger, not to mention the Archer II.

According to AADR’s intelligence, production of the new Tobago has topped the 150 mark and the type is selling more than well in what is an unusually quiet European market.

And now for Australia; the first Tobago arrived recently for a look-see tour – and according to Aerospatiale’s Middle-EastAsia-Pacific area manager, Michel Wausort, to arrange for an Australian distributor.

The Tobago was also on its way to Melbourne for a Transport Australia certification, flown by nuggety little chief demonstration pilot Maurice Seree.

Michel and Maurice brought with them exciting news; the 235 hp version of the lovely Tobago – to be named, we believe, the Trinidad and fitted with folding legs – should be rolled out of the Le Bourget factory in June this year, and a model could be in Australia by January 1982.

This model will surely set the GA market by its ears, if its smaller confrere, the Tobago, is any criterion.

So what’s all this about the Rallye Tobago?

Styling, for starters; the Tobago has enough style about its design and finish to mark it as a leader for some time to come, light aircraft cosmetics notwithstanding:

It bears only the remotest superficial resemblance to the old 90-horse Rallye seen spasmodically in our part of the flying world.

At first glance it looks all curves – rather like something one sees, if one is very lucky, high-heeling it down the Rue St Honore on a summer afternoon.

Despite the slim lines, the Tobago’s cabin was measured at 50 in at its widest point, surely the widest cabin of anything in its class.

Unmistakably Gallic, the aircraft has that thoroughbred air about it, that je ne sais quoi that stamps it as something extra special. Back in the factory, the aircraft is put together from five basic packages – engine bay and instrument array, main fuselage component, wing and main wheels, tail assembly and cabin top.

The result is a blending of lines, borne aloft by a simple yet graceful constant chord wing and balanced by an equally slimline stabilator.

The aircraft we tested, the 18th off the factory line and bearing French registration letters F-GBHH, came equipped to Australian IFR standard, complete with a Century 1118 autopilot and a long list of extras.

How much? Michel Wausort guesstimated the evaluation Tobago would be yours for between $46,000 and $47,000. When lines of supply and other logistics are set up, the idea is to containerise the Tobagos to Australia and assemble them locally, he adds.

Our team eyeballed Bravo Hotel Hotel from its big, bold and beautiful cowling to its tailbone, noting above-average finish and a genuine eye for detail in all respects. We found only two things that could provide a morsel for critics to chew on – the large amount of unshaded cockpit canopy which could cause heat and coaming cracking in our fierce Australian summer, and a brace of up-and-out opening doors which, although controlled by rams, wouldn’t stand much of a chance in a blustery paddock.

The third possible snag could be the unusual size of the aft cargo door – almost a triangular hole through which some suitcases and other square loads might have a job fitting.

But, ma fois, she’s beautiful, this Tobago. And inside she’s even more voluptuous!

Space-age seating, with room for three smallies on the rear squab if needed, sets off the superbly-compartmented instrument modules.

These modules frame flight instruments, radios and auto-pilot, and engine gauges, in the IFR configuration. If you’re flying a VFR type, one of the modules is replaced by a space for anything from pate de foie gras to spare WAC charts and chewing gum.

The panel also contains annunciator symbols, back-lit, while the centre console accommodates engine controls, a trimmer and a flap manipulator to get those big slotted doors down to 30 degrees when needed.

Our test team felt very much at home in this aircraft, right from posture support to precise track measurement from shoulder to a semi-ram’s horn control column. Visibility was good enough to be magnificent, with extra low side sills enhancing an already panoramic vista.

Our back-seat passengers settled in with approving noises while we went about firing up the Lycoming 0-360-A1AD 180-horse motor, which in turn energised the big 1.88-metre Hartzell.

Visibility from the back seats almost rivalled the front-seat panorama during AADR’s evaluation sortie from Bankstown. Although there was moderate chop about during our flight, cool and restful colour schemes inside the spacious cabin did a lot to allay that uneasy feeling that often comes when pilots have to take a back seat in choppy weather and watch some other idiot fly the aircraft.

With doors closed and two separate latches on each door checked before engaging the main lock, noise levels were very low. They stayed that way through most of the flight – we fear the back-seat occupants overheard Maurice’s muttered but enthusiastic utterances of “Encore!” when we racked BHH into a fairly tight turn at one stage!

En route to the holding point for Runway 29 Right, we looked again at the Tobago’s super-slim wing; it seemed hard to realise that the sleekness was only skin-deep – beneath that silky exterior dwelt a very solid milled spar.

Ground ride was ladylike, turning circle more than satisfactory. With four on board, half-fuel in the port tank and quarter-fuel in the starboard tank, we were about 203 lb under gross as we rolled on to 29R. While lining up, we fleetingly recalled that this wouldn’t be among Tobago’s strong suit, this long-range Australian flying business.

With 65 per cent setting at max AUW, one could expect about 580 nautical miles to slip beneath those elegant wings before thirsty noises began emanating from the Lycoming.

Testing controls for full and “correct” operation, we found there was only about 45 degrees’ travel on either side of the centre, which meant a delicately-operated aileron.

We lowered 10 degrees of flap for take-off, which was accomplished in less than the booked 1180 ft despite a highish outside air temperature of +27°C, climbing out strongly at around 75-80 knots. We pegged the VSI at one stage at better than the carded 790 fpm, while getting out of the circuit and getting up to 4000 ft in controlled steps.

It was at once apparent that the Tobago does a lot of the work for the pilot; there was only moderate right foot pressure needed to keep the test aircraft on the straight and narrow, with sustained pressure needed while power was applied for a steep climb.

The rest was a matter of balancing Tobago. Elevator trimming is for some a rather finger-and-thumb affair, rather than the palm of the hand gently stroking the wheel back or forth. There’s a pretty coarse gearing on the trim which could take some getting used to.

At 4000 ft and at Maurice’s gentle insistence we set up the 75 per cent 25/2500 setting, trimmed for cruise and watched the airspeed build up gradually but very definitely. After a soupcon of trimming we managed to get exactly the book figure of 127 knots true airspeed, despite the efforts of a growing chop in the upper atmosphere being spawned by the Blue Mountains.

Noise levels were rechecked in both front and rear offices, and a Top rating was given for both compartments.

A high-speed run produced a shade over the 133 knots carded for max gross, while 65 per cent settings gave us a knot or two bonus over the Manual’s 119 knots TAS. The Tobago’s rock-steady progression was apparent at all stages, while yaw corrections in hands-off mode endorsed the dynamic stability claims given in Aerospatiale’s coloured blurbs.

At the slow-speed end of the scale, Rallye’s Tobago behaves like the perfect lady she is. Of course, if you pinch her bottom, figuratively speaking, she’ll turn round and clout you with her handbag.

But handled gently she’ll do almost anything reasonable – even a climbing turn with full flap on, a remote-sounding electric doorbell doing the duty of a stall warning device.

In a clean stall, one can work up a decent sink rate approaching the 1500 fpm mark, after a period of fore and aft pitching at the booked 60 knots figure.

Dirty, the test aircraft dropped her left shoulder as the carded 52 knots figure was passed en route to the 50 mark There was almost full control throughout clean and dirty stalls, and infinitely controllable pitch change when one dropped the full 30 degrees at one go.

The Tobago’s right-at-the-back elevators ensured delicate placement during landings, control being possible right down to touch. We found 60-65 knots indicated on finals to be enough to counter a brisk crosswind at Haxton Park, yet still had enough surplus speed to float longer than planned.

Maurice preferred to make his circuit entry at 100 knots on the clock, come back to 90 on base and throw out the full 30 degrees on finals, coming over the fence with speed shedding almost briskly through 70 to 60 indicated.

The glide angle he used was as shallow as the Big Boys’ three-degree approach angle of dangle.

Further evaluation during AADR’s sortie produced no negative surprises; true, there is a certain above-average force needed to operate the ailerons, but that old heavy-as-whatever stick force one found on the old Rallyes in certain configurations wasn’t there.

A once-again check on noise levels produced 1 O out of 10 from the front and back compartments. If the occupants of F-GBHH had had to sit in the aircraft for the full five-plus hours claimed endurance at best economy settings, they wouldn’t have minded a bit, such is the positive care taken in cabin and seat design.

That five-and-a-bit hour would take you 580 nm and leave you with normal reserve, plus allowing for climb and descent consumption, says the book.

The Tobago is indeed a surprise, especially when one considers that there are only 180 horses hanging on the front end. If Aerospatiale’s hopes of getting an Australian distributor eventuate and a really worthwhile inventory of spares and other logistic necessities are built up in this country, it’s a pound to a pinch of snuff that many potential buyers will look hard, long and favourably at the Tobago and its coming big brother, the Trinidad.

One item that surprised us was the fact that the Rallye people have never had an Australian distributor, according to area manager Wausort.

Years ago we had occasion to talk to – a certain person – who assured us that he was the Rallye distributor in Australia, and in fact, he operated a Rallye which worked after a fashion, although it eventually developed a sudden total electrics failure over a nonpopulated part of north-west Australia on one occasion.

This only goes to show that one can’t believe all the people all the time …

But coming back to Tobago, the Trinidad and other types Aerospatiale confidently anticipate selling and marketing in Australasia; it must be emphasised that the Tobago we checked isn’t a long-distance machine – in fact, the recommended range in ISA conditions is around the 525 nautical miles mark, using 24/2400 as a datum. This should give one a fuel consumption around the nine gallons/hour mark and a TAS nudging 124 knots.

That means you’ll be sitting in your luxurious Tobago for a little more than four hours.

It’s always an academic point whether one should go for a light aircraft with mammoth endurance and range, in our sprawling nation where cities are separated by considerable distances. We personally feel that four hours in a lighter – unless there’s an extremely good and valid operational reason – is quite enough, thank you.