The Non-Type Certified/Grassroots Aeroplane Revolution

During my more than 38 years as a pilot, I have had limited exposure to non-type certified aircraft (NTCA). I once had a part-share in a 3-axis microlight for a couple of years, but that was about 30 years ago and I have not flown one since. I have flown a few hours on RV4s, 6s and 7s – mainly for the purposes of helping owners get aerobatic ratings – and I have also flown a few different Sling types, but other than that I have not had much exposure to NTCA or experimental airplanes. So, take what I say in this article with a huge pinch of salt.

By Elton Bondi

I must confess that my impressions of the NTCA or experimental genre have not always been favourable, for one key reason. When I started flying 38 years ago, experimental or homebuilt aircraft were not as reliable or refined as they are today. 

As a highly impressionable 17-year-old student pilot, I remember watching with macabre fascination a friend perform a wheels-up landing in a KR1 due to a gear failure. The event turned out fine and the damaged aircraft was soon repaired, but in those few moments that pilot attained legendary status in our eyes, and all homebuilt flying machines were immediately relegated to “I’ll never touch one of those” status.

Impressing the girl

I did not, however, stick to my “I’ll never touch one of those” rule. Financial constraints and the desire to fly cheaply overruled my haughty self-imposed censure. And so, about six or so years later, I bought into an aircraft syndicate. And had a small share in a high time, somewhat battered and tatty 3-axis microlight powered by an early and still crude two-cylinder, two-stroke Rotax 503 engine. 

I remember taking my then girlfriend (today wife) for a flip in (or rather on) it. When she first saw the plane she asked – “surely you should finish building the airplane before we fly it?”. I told her mom that I was taking her daughter for an aeroplane ride in my very own craft. When I admitted to her it was a private propeller plane, she assumed it was something like a King Air, and I did little to change her false impression.

I relished the exposed open cockpit flying of a microlight and I did not mind that the handling was awful. Poor handling was an understatement – in fact, the aircraft was barely controllable in anything above 15 knots, making this plane an early morning or late afternoon only flyer. But I still loved the uncomplicated freedom of flying from an unmanned grass airfield. This was a far cry from the regimented quasi-military rules-based flying school environment where I had recently been serving as a flying instructor.

But this grassroots swashbuckling and rudimentary world had its downsides – I was soon to experience two total engine failures and at least half a dozen rough running episodes, when I had to limp back to base with a spluttering engine.  

Swinging spanners

But I was not too fazed, as I was happy to be in the air at an all-in cost of just R50 an hour and I didn’t mind spending weekends in oily overalls, swinging spanners, decoking cylinder heads and calibrating carburetors. All this greasy toil was fun and more than made up for by the cheap flying and the incredible camaraderie of the microlight fraternity where impromptu flour bombing contests were the norm.  

Importantly, the ability to tinker with and configure the aircraft was a huge upside and source of great enjoyment. I remember using a sophisticated computer program to lay out the ideal design of the instrument panel, comprising just four basic instruments, but to me it felt like I was designing a panel for the space shuttle. And I also remember experimenting with the design and fitment of an extended fuel tank. Although I understood weight and balance calculations and fluid dynamics, I had little knowledge of the load-bearing qualities of different materials, making this type of experimentation foolhardy, but it worked and was the fun part of the term “experimental”.

Whenever I drove to our active little field it was not difficult to feel like one of those early goggles, scarf and helmet barnstorming pioneers of flight depicted in romantic old movies such as Those Magnificent Men in their Flying Machines or The Great Waldo Pepper.

Back to type certified

After about two years of blissfully flying the microlight, I learnt that the old Transvaal Aeroplane Club, or TAC, at Rand Airport was renting out a Piper J3 Cub at a modest rate. My salary had grown a bit and I could afford to fly two hours a month in that aircraft. Before buying into the microlight, I had accumulated about 500hrs instructing on Cubs, so I was super keen to fly one again. Boy was that a mistake.

That vintage little taildragger Cub with its basic tube and fabric construction and humble 65hp felt like a modern jet fighter compared to the microlight. It seemed so solid and stable in the air and, compared to the microlight, seemed like the most controllable and responsive aircraft ever built.   

The power to weight ratio of the 50hp microlight was superior to the 65hp Cub but the Cub felt more robust and higher performing – it cruised at a blistering 75mph compared to the microlight’s 55mph. The contrast between the two planes was so great that I soon felt exposed, unsafe and not in control flying the microlight, like a leaf in a strong breeze. Nothing changed with that aeroplane, it was simply the contrast with the Cub. And so I was happy to sell it to a very keen buyer and to again return to my old mantra “I’ll never fly one of those things”.

And as the years rolled by, I was able to partner with people to buy shares in aircraft such as Aeronca Cubs and, later, a de Havilland Chipmunk. Never looking back or considering a homebuilt plane again.  

ZU on the comeback

My negative biases were, of course, irrelevant to reality, and the experimental/homebuilt/kit plane industry blossomed. Super high-performance machines such as Lancairs and Glasairs were exciting and the new genre of grassroots flyers such as Kitfox and Bush Babies was intriguing.

Over time, more and more of my friends were buying and flying various RV types and, while these looked great and my friends all seemed super happy with them, I felt that perhaps they were exaggerating their virtues too much. And while I could not ignore the appeal of their performance stats, I still had no great desire to fly them.

And then one day a friend started an aeroplane factory and built a series of aircraft called the Sling. He generously offered me the opportunity to fly every type in the collection, even a few of the prototypes while they were still in the research and development phase. I was blown away. The Rotax engine had come a long way from the unreliable and cantankerous Rotax 503 that I flew all those years ago. And the handling was exceptional, equal to the very best certified planes and superior to most. As to the performance – you have to be impressed by a plane that can carry four large men for six hours at 152ktas IAS. And suddenly I was hooked on the NTCA genre, it suddenly all made sense to me. They are not (yet?) perfect, and there are things to watch out for (subject of my next article) but any recreational or private flyer must look at this class of aircraft. I’ll tell you why in the next issue.