Low level …

London’s 6600 metre long Red Bull Air Race course was established by pairs of inflatable conical pylons on barges moored along Bugsby’s Reach, between Blackwall and the Greenwich Marshes, to the east of central London. These pylons formed 20m high gates through which the racers twisted and turned at breathtaking speeds up to 200kt, while spectators watched from grandstands on either side of the track.

My task was flying four minutes of simple aerobatics up and down that course to keep the massing crowds amused, starting at an appropriate height and finishing when I ran out of energy, precisely 240 seconds later, and not below 300ft above the grey and uninviting water. This timing precision is required because, as race director Australian Drew Searle explained, this is not a normal airshow, but rather a TV program with aeroplanes, so our start, finish and display duration had to be millisecond perfect.

Unfortunately, the weather wasn’t kind.

There was scudding low cloud, its base varying between 2000 and 1000ft with sharp showers increasing in frequency and intensity as each day wore on. Worse, a strong wind blew from the southwest, directly across that stretch of the Thames, so a moment’s inattention would result in my slow little aeroplane being blown over the crowd – a certain way to ensure I never flew aerobatics in public again.

That prohibition of single engined aeroplanes over London is of course because forced landing options are virtually non-existent. My Fournier lacks carburettor heat, dual ignition or electrics (and therefore a starter motor) nor has it any inverted fuel or oil system, while its Volkswagen engine is generally regarded as a notorious ice-generator (although rarely in this installation).

Those facts, combined with the propensity of my propeller to stop whenever I bungle an upward manoeuvre, meant I had to give more careful consideration than usual to what I should do in the event of a cessation of activity under the cowlings.

Being clean and efficient, the Fournier has a 20:1 power-off glide angle. This means that, from 300ft, I should float just over a mile. That was the distance of Red Bull’s temporary runway at London City Airport and, since it was downwind, I stood a fair chance of making it. Nevertheless, I had to consider the possibility of ditching. We had been told frogmen on jet skis were strategically positionedThose facts, combined with the propensity of my propeller to stop whenever I bungle an upward manoeuvre, meant I had to give more careful consideration than usual to what I should do in the event of a cessation of activity under the cowlings. around the course, each with canopycutting kit and two scuba units, one for him, and another for submerged pilots.

These were backed up by paramedics, heavy lifting equipment and a helicopter.

My aeroplane is little more than a wooden canoe with wings, stalling at below 40kt and with a retractable mainwheel, so I joked to my kids that if needed, I would just land on the river and paddle ashore.

Because there was so little space between the river banks, I amended my usual three dimensional display to become a simple, mostly linear sequence up and down the X-axis. Also, I normally begin my routine flying into wind, but we all had to enter this venue from the southeast, which meant a downwind start and a last minute reordering of my manoeuvres.

In the event, with lots of mental rehearsal and a little determined practice, I was able to remember and complete my amended sequence without error.

Nevertheless, I did have to modify it a bit towards the end, as I found myself running out of energy a trifle early.

That was probably because, rather than concentrating on the accuracy of my flying, I have to admit to relaxing and enjoying the moment, letting my little aeroplane wheel itself around the sky while I savoured the scene and the venue, as we aerobatted back and forth over London.

Believe, me, you get a whole new perspective on the British capital from upside down over the river and below the top of O2 (formerly the Millennium Dome) – especially if you’ve spent the past 33 years of your working life mostly above 30,000ft, and ensuring your bank angle never exceeded 25 degrees.

For me, it was a lifetime’s ambition fulfilled, and the culmination of nearly five years of mostly solitary hard work, first teaching myself how to fly reasonably shaped aerobatic figures in this slow rolling, low powered little aeroplane, and then progressively bringing my aerobatics down to a height where they could be seen and appreciated. I feel very proud to have been invited, and have subsequently been warmed and almost embarrassed by praise from friends and acquaintances, both within our aviation world and among the British public.

One of my most rewarding conversations was with the British aerobatic champion who asked how I got the gig. The answer was, of course, that my simple, gentle, flowing aerobatics with twin, orange smoke trails provide a good contrast with the rest of the weekend’s high power, max G performers. It just shows that, if you want something enough, and work sufficiently hard at it, you can achieve your dream, however old you may be. o To see on-board footage of this event from Bob’s viewpoint, go to YouTube and search for ‘FournierBob’.