Vegas & The Aftermath - Diary

[tikay]

I must admit Tikay, you are a bit of a spoilsport.

I have tried to engage you in a number of dust ups, but you just won't play along.

Such restraint is only to be admired.

Maybe in the New Year.

Happy Christmas. Have a good one.

Ha, thank you. I think.

I'm a turn the other cheek man, when my self-discipline holds.

Hope you are having a lovely Xmas, too.

[tikay]

Found this via Twitter this morning.

http://gizmodo.com/the-sr-71-blackbird-took-its-first-flight-50-years-ago-1674153018/all

Click to see full-size image.

"The Fastest Guys Out There" — Written by Brian Schul

There were a lot of things we couldn't do in an SR-71, but we were the fastest guys on the block and loved reminding our fellow aviators of this fact. People often asked us if, because of this fact, it was fun to fly the jet. Fun would not be the first word I would use to describe flying this plane. Intense, maybe. Even cerebral. But there was one day in our Sled experience when we would have to say that it was pure fun to be the fastest guys out there, at least for a moment.

It occurred when Walt and I were flying our final training sortie. We needed 100 hours in the jet to complete our training and attain Mission Ready status. Somewhere over Colorado we had passed the century mark. We had made the turn in Arizona and the jet was performing flawlessly. My gauges were wired in the front seat and we were starting to feel pretty good about ourselves, not only because we would soon be flying real missions but because we had gained a great deal of confidence in the plane in the past ten months. Ripping across the barren deserts 80,000 feet below us, I could already see the coast of California from the Arizona border. I was, finally, after many humbling months of simulators and study, ahead of the jet.

I was beginning to feel a bit sorry for Walter in the back seat. There he was, with no really good view of the incredible sights before us, tasked with monitoring four different radios. This was good practice for him for when we began flying real missions, when a priority transmission from headquarters could be vital. It had been difficult, too, for me to relinquish control of the radios, as during my entire flying career I had controlled my own transmissions. But it was part of the division of duties in this plane and I had adjusted to it. I still insisted on talking on the radio while we were on the ground, however. Walt was so good at many things, but he couldn't match my expertise at sounding smooth on the radios, a skill that had been honed sharply with years in fighter squadrons where the slightest radio miscue was grounds for beheading. He understood that and allowed me that luxury. Just to get a sense of what Walt had to contend with, I pulled the radio toggle switches and monitored the frequencies along with him. The predominant radio chatter was from Los Angeles Center, far below us, controlling daily traffic in their sector. While they had us on their scope (albeit briefly), we were in uncontrolled airspace and normally would not talk to them unless we needed to descend into their airspace. We listened as the shaky voice of a lone Cessna pilot asked Center for a readout of his ground speed. Center replied: November Charlie 175, I'm showing you at ninety knots on the ground. Now the thing to understand about Center controllers, was that whether they were talking to a rookie pilot in a Cessna, or to Air Force One, they always spoke in the exact same, calm, deep, professional, tone that made one feel important. I referred to it as the " HoustonCentervoice." I have always felt that after years of seeing documentaries on this country's space program and listening to the calm and distinct voice of the Houstoncontrollers, that all other controllers since then wanted to sound like that… and that they basically did. And it didn't matter what sector of the country we would be flying in, it always seemed like the same guy was talking. Over the years that tone of voice had become somewhat of a comforting sound to pilots everywhere. Conversely, over the years, pilots always wanted to ensure that, when transmitting, they sounded like Chuck Yeager, or at least like John Wayne. Better to die than sound bad on the radios.

Just moments after the Cessna's inquiry, a Twin Beech piped up on frequency, in a rather superior tone, asking for his groundspeed. Twin Beach, I have you at one hundred and twenty-five knots of ground speed. Boy, I thought, the Beechcraft really must think he is dazzling his Cessna brethren. Then out of the blue, a navy F-18 pilot out of NAS Lemoore came up on frequency. You knew right away it was a Navy jock because he sounded very cool on the radios. Center, Dusty 52 ground speed check. Before Center could reply, I'm thinking to myself, hey, Dusty 52 has a ground speed indicator in that million-dollar cockpit, so why is he asking Center for a readout? Then I got it, ol' Dusty here is making sure that every bug smasher from Mount Whitney to the Mojave knows what true speed is. He's the fastest dude in the valley today, and he just wants everyone to know how much fun he is having in his new Hornet. And the reply, always with that same, calm, voice, with more distinct alliteration than emotion: Dusty 52, Center, we have you at 620 on the ground. And I thought to myself, is this a ripe situation, or what? As my hand instinctively reached for the mic button, I had to remind myself that Walt was in control of the radios. Still, I thought, it must be done – in mere seconds we'll be out of the sector and the opportunity will be lost. That Hornet must die, and die now. I thought about all of our Sim training and how important it was that we developed well as a crew and knew that to jump in on the radios now would destroy the integrity of all that we had worked toward becoming. I was torn. Somewhere, 13 miles above Arizona, there was a pilot screaming inside his space helmet. Then, I heard it. The click of the mic button from the back seat. That was the very moment that I knew Walter and I had become a crew. Very professionally, and with no emotion, Walter spoke: Los Angeles Center, Aspen 20, can you give us a ground speed check? There was no hesitation, and the replay came as if was an everyday request. Aspen 20, I show you at one thousand eight hundred and forty-two knots, across the ground. I think it was the forty-two knots that I liked the best, so accurate and proud was Center to deliver that information without hesitation, and you just knew he was smiling. But the precise point at which I knew that Walt and I were going to be really good friends for a long time was when he keyed the mic once again to say, in his most fighter-pilot-like voice: Ah, Center, much thanks, We're showing closer to nineteen hundred on the money. For a moment Walter was a god. And we finally heard a little crack in the armor of the HoustonCentervoice, when L.A.came back with: Roger that Aspen, Your equipment is probably more accurate than ours. You boys have a good one.

It all had lasted for just moments, but in that short, memorable sprint across the southwest, the Navy had been flamed, all mortal airplanes on freq were forced to bow before the King of Speed, and more importantly, Walter and I had crossed the threshold of being a crew. A fine day's work. We never heard another transmission on that frequency all the way to the coast. For just one day, it truly was fun being the fastest guys out there.

What a GREAT story, I was not expecting that.

Thank you.


I show you at one thousand eight hundred and forty-two knots, across the ground.

[tikay]

I really thought longines excellent Blackbird SR-71 story was going to be something else altogether.

They were notorious for leaking fuel whilst on the ground, but oddly, this was almost designed in. At the speeds they flew, the airframe & all components  had to be able to expand, so when on the ground, nothing really fitted very well. The thing flew so damn fast that the cockpit windscreen externsal temperature was quoted at 600 degrees.

32 were built, 12 crashed, & the rest are in Museums now, apparently.

Click to see full-size image.

Click to see full-size image.

Quite a piece of kit in the air, though, almost the sort of futuristic thing we saw  in "The Eagle" Comic as kids. "The Eagle" was a SERIOUS comic, for grown up kids, proper stuff in that.

[tikay]

Hi Tikay,
Did you know it costs a whole £1 now to cross the Clifton suspension bridge !
Still better than what ze French charge for the Severn i guess  

Yes, it used to be ten bob, but they doubled that in April this year.

Pedestrians & cyclists are still fre, though, which is a shame really, as the Bridge is a "popular" suicide location, hundreds have plunged to their death. Can't help but think that if they had to pay a quid, they may not bother. Georgie Fame's wife committed suicide from it, I believe.

It recently celebrated it's 150th Birthday. Extraordinary that something built so long ago, & for far less vehicle traffic, remains perfectly serviceable even now, it's had no structural alterations or beefing up.

What a graceful view it represents. Practical, functional, & fit for purpose.

Click to see full-size image.

Click to see full-size image.

[tikay]

My ears are burning

About time you showed up! Good to see you here.

How good do you run - already booked to arrive in Vegas May 29th, which turns out to coincide with that wonderful WSOP $575 "Colussus" thing?

Hope you have a great Vegas, & this trip turns out rather better than the last one, which was so ill-fated.

You'll be sad to know we don't have any "JimRiddle" sorts here, in fact there's barely a riggie on blonde, so far as I can recall. Trusting souls, here. They generally trust poker sites here, but not so much bookies. Strange, really, especially given that most of them share platforms these days. Generally, it's just people who can't take losing as a grown-up should. I have a theory that many of them were an "only child" or were spoilt as children. Probably bollox, but there has to be a reason.

[Longines]

There is a SR-71 at Duxford, the only one outside the USA apparently. Went there about 10 years ago with my son's cub scout group not knowing what exhibits they had - turned out to be a fantastic museum.

[tikay]

There is a SR-71 at Duxford, the only one outside the USA apparently. Went there about 10 years ago with my son's cub scout group not knowing what exhibits they had - turned out to be a fantastic museum.

Well worth a visit. I went there a few years ago with three old biffers, (Red-Dog, Karabiner & Simon Trumper) & we had a wonderful day.

No idea how they got that SR-71 to land there, mind - the thing needs a vey long runway, & even then it has to use a parachute to help reduce the speed.

They have a B-52 Stratofortress there, one of the most awe-inspiring aircraft I've ever seen. Worth the visit to see that alone.

Click to see full-size image.

Click to see full-size image.

Click to see full-size image.

[DaveShoelace]

Thought this would be up your street, National Geographic photo contest:

http://photography.nationalgeographic.com/photography/photo-contest/2014/

Click to see full-size image.

This is the winner. Tech addiction. Very apt.

Click to see full-size image.

Click to see full-size image.

Great stuff Barry, thank you. It's that time of the year all the sites put up "Best of" Galleries, which I love.

I could stare at photos for ages, & often do.

In that photo, it says so much about how society has changed since the internet began, &, latterly, "SmartPhones".

I don't travel much in London these days, but it's quite something too see such a large % of people walking along, staring at their 'phones, as the content can't wait - presumably - until they arrive.

On trains, it used to be that most of us read newspapers & books, or did the Crossword. Now everyone is busy scrolling on their dog. Same thing, I suppose.

I'm as guilty as most, but I'm trying to crack the addiction.

Go play poker, & there we are, all sat staring at our i-Pads or whatever.

Back in the day, Axeman used to sit there doing his crossword, Steve Jelenik with a book, I even saw a lady at one table doing her knitting, which is how I learned to knit. That's knit, not nit.


Over under through round, that's "pearl", see?

Back in the day, just before smartphones, I saw a young lad doing a rubix cube super fast while playing at an EPT.

Regarding tech addiction I have taken some quite strict measures to curb my own tendencies. I have a 'no technology an hour before bed' rule which I usually stick to (reading my kindle doesnt count as tech as it looks and feels like a book). Also have a 'dont check email before 10am' rule so that I can get my most important task of the day done before I get distracted.

I've also disabled email and safari from my phone so that I cant habitually check email whenever I want to fill a 30 second silence.

Got a few programmes on my computer which disables Facebook etc at certain times so I cant check it when Im working.

I long aqo abandoned Facebook, Barry. Only belatedly realised it was a time sponge, & gave me nothing meaningful back in exchange for my time when I could be doing more useful things. It's fine, whatever takes your fancy, but I'll never go down that road again.

My "tech addiction" is a problem to me though, & I'm trying to address it. Am up to an hour of Nature TV Docs, & an hour of reading, every day without fail, & that's working. I just need to double that now.

It's part of my job, though, so there's a limit.

I know we share a fixation with the psychology of internet use & users, so if time permits, I'll tell you a story shortly, which happened to me 2 or 3 days ago. There was a dreadful, terrible, disaster, the worst thing ever ever - Sky Poker went "down" for an hour. An HOUR. It was like the end of the world. The aftermath was, I thought, really quite interesting, as to how different people react, or even cope with such a tragedy. 

I'll catch up on replies first, then try & tell the tale. The varying reactions, by players & Business alike, were fascinating. 

You and I may be the only ones who find such a story fascinating, please please do share.

Had a funny one over the holidays myself. We drove from Sheffield to Norfolk on Crimbo Day, nice 2.5 hour drive. The missus and I were talking about 80s movies and I could not remember the name of the director of such classics as The Breakfast Club, Home Alone and Planes Trains and Automobiles. I knew it was John, but John Who?

I refused to google it. I've been reading a lot about how the internet has fundamentally changed our memories - we know everything, yet we know nothing. I probably spent eight hours randomly shouting out 'John' and random surnames hoping one would fit. I also kept announcing 'Breakfast Club director John.......' in the hope my unconscious memory would fill in the blank.

Eventually my wife googled it, I asked her 'was it at least John?' and she said yes, and then suddenly I just said 'John Hughes'. Bizarre how that prompted the memory.

[Royal Flush]

Found this via Twitter this morning.

http://gizmodo.com/the-sr-71-blackbird-took-its-first-flight-50-years-ago-1674153018/all

Click to see full-size image.

"The Fastest Guys Out There" — Written by Brian Schul

There were a lot of things we couldn't do in an SR-71, but we were the fastest guys on the block and loved reminding our fellow aviators of this fact. People often asked us if, because of this fact, it was fun to fly the jet. Fun would not be the first word I would use to describe flying this plane. Intense, maybe. Even cerebral. But there was one day in our Sled experience when we would have to say that it was pure fun to be the fastest guys out there, at least for a moment.

It occurred when Walt and I were flying our final training sortie. We needed 100 hours in the jet to complete our training and attain Mission Ready status. Somewhere over Colorado we had passed the century mark. We had made the turn in Arizona and the jet was performing flawlessly. My gauges were wired in the front seat and we were starting to feel pretty good about ourselves, not only because we would soon be flying real missions but because we had gained a great deal of confidence in the plane in the past ten months. Ripping across the barren deserts 80,000 feet below us, I could already see the coast of California from the Arizona border. I was, finally, after many humbling months of simulators and study, ahead of the jet.

I was beginning to feel a bit sorry for Walter in the back seat. There he was, with no really good view of the incredible sights before us, tasked with monitoring four different radios. This was good practice for him for when we began flying real missions, when a priority transmission from headquarters could be vital. It had been difficult, too, for me to relinquish control of the radios, as during my entire flying career I had controlled my own transmissions. But it was part of the division of duties in this plane and I had adjusted to it. I still insisted on talking on the radio while we were on the ground, however. Walt was so good at many things, but he couldn't match my expertise at sounding smooth on the radios, a skill that had been honed sharply with years in fighter squadrons where the slightest radio miscue was grounds for beheading. He understood that and allowed me that luxury. Just to get a sense of what Walt had to contend with, I pulled the radio toggle switches and monitored the frequencies along with him. The predominant radio chatter was from Los Angeles Center, far below us, controlling daily traffic in their sector. While they had us on their scope (albeit briefly), we were in uncontrolled airspace and normally would not talk to them unless we needed to descend into their airspace. We listened as the shaky voice of a lone Cessna pilot asked Center for a readout of his ground speed. Center replied: November Charlie 175, I'm showing you at ninety knots on the ground. Now the thing to understand about Center controllers, was that whether they were talking to a rookie pilot in a Cessna, or to Air Force One, they always spoke in the exact same, calm, deep, professional, tone that made one feel important. I referred to it as the " HoustonCentervoice." I have always felt that after years of seeing documentaries on this country's space program and listening to the calm and distinct voice of the Houstoncontrollers, that all other controllers since then wanted to sound like that… and that they basically did. And it didn't matter what sector of the country we would be flying in, it always seemed like the same guy was talking. Over the years that tone of voice had become somewhat of a comforting sound to pilots everywhere. Conversely, over the years, pilots always wanted to ensure that, when transmitting, they sounded like Chuck Yeager, or at least like John Wayne. Better to die than sound bad on the radios.

Just moments after the Cessna's inquiry, a Twin Beech piped up on frequency, in a rather superior tone, asking for his groundspeed. Twin Beach, I have you at one hundred and twenty-five knots of ground speed. Boy, I thought, the Beechcraft really must think he is dazzling his Cessna brethren. Then out of the blue, a navy F-18 pilot out of NAS Lemoore came up on frequency. You knew right away it was a Navy jock because he sounded very cool on the radios. Center, Dusty 52 ground speed check. Before Center could reply, I'm thinking to myself, hey, Dusty 52 has a ground speed indicator in that million-dollar cockpit, so why is he asking Center for a readout? Then I got it, ol' Dusty here is making sure that every bug smasher from Mount Whitney to the Mojave knows what true speed is. He's the fastest dude in the valley today, and he just wants everyone to know how much fun he is having in his new Hornet. And the reply, always with that same, calm, voice, with more distinct alliteration than emotion: Dusty 52, Center, we have you at 620 on the ground. And I thought to myself, is this a ripe situation, or what? As my hand instinctively reached for the mic button, I had to remind myself that Walt was in control of the radios. Still, I thought, it must be done – in mere seconds we'll be out of the sector and the opportunity will be lost. That Hornet must die, and die now. I thought about all of our Sim training and how important it was that we developed well as a crew and knew that to jump in on the radios now would destroy the integrity of all that we had worked toward becoming. I was torn. Somewhere, 13 miles above Arizona, there was a pilot screaming inside his space helmet. Then, I heard it. The click of the mic button from the back seat. That was the very moment that I knew Walter and I had become a crew. Very professionally, and with no emotion, Walter spoke: Los Angeles Center, Aspen 20, can you give us a ground speed check? There was no hesitation, and the replay came as if was an everyday request. Aspen 20, I show you at one thousand eight hundred and forty-two knots, across the ground. I think it was the forty-two knots that I liked the best, so accurate and proud was Center to deliver that information without hesitation, and you just knew he was smiling. But the precise point at which I knew that Walt and I were going to be really good friends for a long time was when he keyed the mic once again to say, in his most fighter-pilot-like voice: Ah, Center, much thanks, We're showing closer to nineteen hundred on the money. For a moment Walter was a god. And we finally heard a little crack in the armor of the HoustonCentervoice, when L.A.came back with: Roger that Aspen, Your equipment is probably more accurate than ours. You boys have a good one.

It all had lasted for just moments, but in that short, memorable sprint across the southwest, the Navy had been flamed, all mortal airplanes on freq were forced to bow before the King of Speed, and more importantly, Walter and I had crossed the threshold of being a crew. A fine day's work. We never heard another transmission on that frequency all the way to the coast. For just one day, it truly was fun being the fastest guys out there.

What a GREAT story, I was not expecting that.

Thank you.


I show you at one thousand eight hundred and forty-two knots, across the ground.

Brilliant

[horseplayer]

 
Lou Macari
‏@LouMacari10


Spoke to Neil last night,has now watched Marvellous 22 times.

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[TightEnd]

Animal photos of the year 2014:  http://fw.to/AGnlr8Y 

Click to see full-size image.

Animal photos of the year 2014 - Part 2 http://fw.to/MSCLvN 

[DaveShoelace]

Animal photos of the year 2014:  http://fw.to/AGnlr8Y 

Click to see full-size image.

Animal photos of the year 2014 - Part 2 http://fw.to/MSCLvN 

Fantastic how those two dogs got them fellas to do that.

[DaveShoelace]

I'm always blown away when I go on the Sky Poker telly show and see how hard everyone works in that 'control room' behind the scenes. Looks a super stressful job.

So I thought you would appreciate this:

[Simon Galloway]

Someone tweeted that a girl was in tears at Ryanair check in because she was being charged extra for her emotional baggage.

[Mohican]

There is a SR-71 at Duxford, the only one outside the USA apparently. Went there about 10 years ago with my son's cub scout group not knowing what exhibits they had - turned out to be a fantastic museum.

Well worth a visit. I went there a few years ago with three old biffers, (Red-Dog, Karabiner & Simon Trumper) & we had a wonderful day.

No idea how they got that SR-71 to land there, mind - the thing needs a vey long runway, & even then it has to use a parachute to help reduce the speed.

They have a B-52 Stratofortress there, one of the most awe-inspiring aircraft I've ever seen. Worth the visit to see that alone.

Click to see full-size image.

Click to see full-size image.

Click to see full-size image.

Did it come in pieces on the back of several trucks.
I managed to get shown around one of these whilst I was in the mob.

pretty impressive even for a non spotter like me.