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The Grumpy Gang

The Grumman Aircraft Pilots Association European Branch

Europe: Midden Zeeland

by Ni Thomas Milford-On-Sea, Hampshire, England

Sit back, close your eyes, and relax. Now, think deeply. Concentrate your grey cells on Europe. Focus in on the western shores of Europe. Is a picture of Holland coming into your scan? Can you focus in on a little grass airfield some 38 nm southwest of Rotterdam?

What image does that conjure up in your minds eye? Is it the glorious fields, full of colourful flowers, magnificent edifices of water management and civil engineering? Can you see visions of 24 Grummans sitting there on the green swathes of Midden Zeeland airfield? Are they basking in the sunshine? Are their pilots and passengers lying back amongst the daisies quaffing gallons of Dutch and Belgian beer? Does a hurricane form any part of your imagery?
Just stay relaxed as I tell you a story. This year's millennium gathering of the European AYA members took place over the weekend of the May 28 at the lovely grass airfield of Midden Zeeland. The event had been quietly but industriously organised by our illustrious Dutch member Arie Timmer and his lovely wife Beli.

All in all, about 24 Grummans made it to the event. They came from England, Scotland, Wales, Denmark, Germany, Belgium, and Holland. Heaven only knows where Paul "Mad Cow" Newton flew in from! Most flew in on the Friday afternoon, although some did taxi in on four-wheeled Grummans.
The weather wasn't too promising, but, as always, the intrepid spirit of AYA shone through, and much conviviality was to be had on the first evening, as people reacquainted themselves with old friends. Whilst I don't want to single out too many people by name, it was great to hear the dulcet tones of Helmut Rucker once again expounding his favourite phrase, "All is in the green sector!" He's been away too long. Saturday dawned with strong winds but much sunshine. One of the camping fraternity, a rather tired looking Richard North, survived the night--just! He had nearly lost his tent at some ungodly hour of the night, but a quick relocation saw him safely sheltered behind a protective hedge. The rest of us thought he was very brave and tried not to laugh in his presence!

For our accommodation they had obtained concessionary rates at the wait for it--the Badhotel. (Some hardy fools people elected to defy the forecasts and erected tents.) You can't judge a book by its cover, and the same can probably be said about hotels. At least that was the case about this hostelry. Suffice to state at this juncture that it proved decent shelter and its roof was securely glued (or whatever) onto the walls. The hotel was situated within 20 minutes walking distance from the airfield and right alongside a lovely lake, complete with windsurfers, ducks, and crabs.

For the evening, we were lucky. The rain held off until just before the barbecue eats had cooked! A windy, damp, and somewhat chilly evening was had, sheltering behind the airfield cafe screens, scoffing masses of goodies washed down with copious ales. Plucking kebabs off a skewer whilst holding onto a wayward umbrella is a newly found skill worthy of consideration for an AYA award alongside the flour bombing competition! As can be witnessed, the comradeship, built on adversity, was beginning to develop.

The wind wasn't conducive to flying, although one or two intrepid aviators did get in to land during lulls in the gusts and whilst the wind was catching its breath. The main event of the day was a trip for us all to view the massive flood barrier works across the Oosterschelde from aspects of both the land and sea. It consisted of a huge civil engineering enterprise, whose scale has to be seen to be appreciated. The boat trip element of the tour was, well, interesting. The wind was rising, the deck we'd chosen to inhabit was a trifle exposed, and the cost of a can of beer was exorbitant! I don't think we lost anybody overboard, but there again, I wasn't really counting.