Windproof? My arse!

Actually, my arse isn't that windproof. I think that has been proven.

Zippo lighters. Allegedly windproof. Not in Yorkshire, they're not. Not on the edge of my favorite photogenic airfield, trying to light a sneaky log to warm the cockles of my lungs, coz I'm not allowed to let that shite anywhere near my heart anymore. Actually, not that pleasant a location either; Leeming airfield is a wonderful photogenic place, but not the Yorkshire Water "treatment plant" for which read sewage, but that's where the smart photos are taken if they're using runway 34, once assuming the old maxim of "abandon the spotters car park if you want to know where the REALLY juicy pics are". And of course, if you're really weird you can photograph the frequent tanker lorries full of what my late grandfather called "stinko". Today's bait, Norwegian F-16's, American designed hot rods, never been too common in any part of the world I've ever resided in, so worth a trip on the last day of their deployment. A long drive, a service station breakfast eaten on the hoof, a failed attempt at a surreptitious log and the opportunity to practise on the local based Hawks with the Bigma, still haven't got the settings right for that. Then, two flights of jets, five in total mean that the Norwegians have come back from where they've been playing for the morning; a straightforward run and break, and then some very nice landing shots although some swine's stuck a tree right in the middle of the approach, as far as the the photographer is concerned. I guess that's not a design feature of most shite farms.

Was it worth the trip? I thought so. A bit of a beasty. And there were five of 'em flying. The phrase "woo" springs to mind, if this sort of thing is what floats your boat. Anyway's up. No sooner had the last one got in, then I thought that as I'd got what I'd come for, I'd mosey off around the airfield and try to find some locations for different shots. As I walked up to where I'd left the car, I spotted a twin engined propellor plane on the approach... dismissed it as another of the RAF training planes that had been bothereing the runway like bothersome insects all morning, but for the sheer arse of it, focussed the telephoto on it anyway... "hang on, that's a radome on the roof" and as recognition quickly dawned, "SHIT, HAWKEYE!!!" and once again, the quality of Hull's NHS surgeons in the field of big-boring the human heart was proven as I turned tail and legged it back from whence I'd came, with six tons of heavy camera around my neck and big boots on. For the uninitiated, there's been a Hawkeye early warning plane from the French Navy knocking about the UK all week; think of it it as an AWACS plane that can land on a carrier. But they're as rare as hens teeth. And sure enough, that was it roaring over to land.

Which was nice. Never did find that magic bullet for takeoff shots, and reverted to the spotters carpark, but at least there were people there with working airband radios - mine is still in bits - which gave me some idea when the Norwegians were going home, AND what the Hawkeye was doing which turned out to be a refuel with it's engines still running and a quick bugger-off, which just added to the entertainment. Soon after, or as long as it takes to refuel a bunch of F-16's, the Norsk lads departed North Yorkshire in style, a proper afterburner take off which doesn't happen as often as it did; fuel restrictions, cost, noise limitations, anything the bottom inspectors can throw at us to stop all fun. Bastards. They're no fun, these accountants and tree huggers. Jollification of the aeronautical kind. Hooray!

Was tempted to pay the birdies at Thirsk a visit, but instead and for a bit of variety I headed south towards Linton on Ouse, where the Tucano training planes live. Not much to see there apart from vast amounts of black painted turboprops but there's still a few I've not seen, and it's a really nice airfield. Off the A1 at the York turn, and another left past Kirk Hammerton; through the ridiculous toll bridge at Aldwark and up and down twisty roads that are probably good fun on the bike, if you don't mind going splat into the grill of a lorry coming the other way and taking the bend too fast. And Yorkshire showed me it's worst face; what is it about Linton that it attracts such pissy weather? The rain was in sheets. Most unattractive. Soaked my telescope too. Bah. And for the way home, I can affirm that the bow-wash from an oncoming lorry on a small lane hitting your windscreen is damned un-nerving. And don't talk to me about Ikea ! God, they make them ugly, loud and disruptive in Leeds....