A Concorde Close Call — Not!
One of the great things about doing a month of guest posts is that I get to talk to interesting people and ask if I can share their work with you. Mike Riley is the perfect example.
Mike Riley went from soloing a glider at 16 to flying the Concorde until his retirement in 1997. Some might be interested to know that like Rudy, he was a member of the Tiger Club, where he learned aerobatics and ended up competing in world championships and as the chief judge in the World Aerobatic Championships in 1990. After ending his time as a Concorde training captain, he shifted to paragliding until he retired six years ago at age 76.
He was kind enough to give me my choice of his articles on FlyingThings and I thought you all would especially appreciate this story from his Concorde days.
A Concorde Close Call – Not!
It’s the daily New York/London late show, a routine dark arrival at London in time for a pint at the Peggy Bedford. Clear weather, everything as usual, and the airfield quiet – just ourselves following a BA 747 to the runway. The controller anticipated a late landing clearance due to this aircraft in front.
At night the relationship between airliner and air traffic control changes because less can be seen in the dark, rather like low cloud or fog, but not as serious. Although the jumbo ahead was in sight the man in the tower could not clear us to land until it had cleared the runway, unlike ‘decide for yourself’ in daylight. We watched it land and trundle, and continued our approach. Entitled to take its time before turning off, maybe more of it than usual, our situation started to look more critical as it passed the usual high speed turnoff abeam the central area. Perhaps it would turn off in time, perhaps not.
We continued at our 185mph landing speed. Experienced co-pilot Tony Heald was flying. ‘We can go from the flare, if you like’, I suggested, familiar with what is sometimes necessary while teaching Concorde beginners. At about 100 feet the controller – keen to encourage us to land rather than noisily power into the sky – said, hastily, ‘The-747’s-turning-off-you’re-cleared-to-land.’
He was not completely wrong. It was in the process of turning, but the 200-foot long machine’s floodlit tail, now swung out across the runway, had not even reached its centreline, and this aircraft moved with caution in the darkness of the airfield’s remote west. Tony decided that this encouragement to continue was not applicable, announced “Go-around”, and opened the throttles.
The Concorde has the simplest of Go-Around modes: the pilot’s throttle-hand thumb. This hand is routinely in place during an approach, monitoring autothrottle activity. The pitch and vertical flightpath influences sent to the brain are algorithmed by this complex organ, which simultaneously coordinates instructions to the other hand on the joystick. A child uses the same cerebral function when mastering Chopsticks on the piano. It doesn’t take long.
A simple press of the thumb cancels autothrottle, releasing total engine control to the pilot’s engine hand. The additional thrust required to reach full power for our old-school but beefed up V-bomber Olympus engines is available instantly. Even while flying downhill to land, the Concorde points skywards, and nothing else is needed to change a Concorde approach into an impressive climb. We roared briefly into the Heathrow night sky. What could be simpler?
Immediately, the steward from the front galley burst into the cockpit – shaking with shock. “What’s happening!?”
“Jumbo on the runway, be down in a few minutes.”
He was not reassured. “But this is not normal, what’s gone wrong?”
“Nothing, just one of those things.”
After the usual explanation to the cabin all seemed quiet. We completed a quick circuit and landed undisturbed by more jumbos, went home, and I thought no more about it.
Next morning I was phoned by Alan Harkness, our training manager. “Did you do a go-around at London last night?” One associates this civil transport term with bad weather, and I had to think about what he meant, at first. But how did he know about such a triviality? Is it possible that the spy-in-the-sky flight recorder playback had flagged up this ‘event’ already?
“Yes” I said. “Jumbo was slow to clear.”
“You’re supposed to do an incident report – going around below decision height.”
He was officially correct, although this decision height business – ‘decide’, then a choice of land or go-around statements etc – is usually associated with cloud or fog (blind flying). This circumstance was nothing like that. Then he asked whether I had seen today’s Daily Mail. I hadn’t. “Go and get a copy, You’re on the front page.”
I eagerly did so, even though this required a brief country lanes motor to the village shop. I don’t think the heroic crew were named, so I was on the front page in spirit only. The only person mentioned was alarmed passenger Dave Stewart of Eurythmics, currently toing and froing between London and New York, and possibly the London source of the late night hold-the-front-page big writing. But it was a typical piece of bigging up the trivial for a sensational story. The item began:
Landing Concorde misses Jumbo by Inches
“While landing at London’s Heathrow airport last night a Concorde was just inches from the ground when the pilots spotted a jumbo jet on the runway and narrowly missed it by taking off again.”
(By Jove, Carruthers, isn’t that a jumbo on the runway? Good Lord, you’re right, skipper! Better keep your eyes peeled in case there’s another of the blighters out there).
Passengers described the terrifying experience …’
I don’t have a copy of the related edition, but you get the idea. If readers wish to research the story, first reports of the spectacular event appeared on May 23rd 1988. There are no pictures, and the Daily Mirror was more restrained:
The story spread via the superfast world news grapevine. Sandwell Evening Mail West Bromwich had this to say.
But closer to home is this report from the Staines and Ashford News of May 26th. It’s wonderful what 3 days mental struggle over the writer’s desk can do. I sense the original Topgun experience here – ‘Tom gets to fly the Concorde, Yee-Hah!’ Love it.
Later that morning I met author, journalist and pilot David Moreau (More Wrestling than Dancing) at the West London Aero club. When I explained the reality of this Daily Mail shocker, he wrote a substantial Evening Standard article that afternoon, critical of this eye-catching nonsense for the people. As an acquaintance I might have got a mention here as informant and the sage voice of reason. I think I did. Fame at last.
I’d like to thank Mike for allowing me to share his work with you. If you enjoyed this, you’ll want to check out his website, Flying Things where you can browse his library of interesting articles and watch for the next one.
I also want to point out his book, “A Concorde in my Toybox.” It’s a wonderfully detailed journey through aviation history, from Tiger Moths to Concorde, filled with technical insights and entertaining asides. While it delves deep into airline training and the world of aerobatics, Mike’s warm humor and keen observations make it accessible even if you’ve never left the ground. You can buy it on the spot as an e-book on Amazon.
(PS: if you are looking for the perfect Christmas gift for your aviation-obsessed loved one, it is also available as a full-colour paperback.)
Went to Michael Riley’s blog and then sent the following message.
Just read your article on the Vulcan and Concorde flypast thanks to the heads up from FearOfLanding and it reminded me of the aftermath of an incident that I witnessed in my teens back in the 1960s in Gwelo, Southern Rhodesia.
Four (corrected from two after reading the article linked below) Vampire fighters of the RRAF were practicing a formation loop. The number four hit the tail plane of the leader, destroying it.
There was no ejection seat and the Vampire crashed in a field next to the suburb of Riverside.
One of its four cannons went through the bedroom wall of a nearby house knocking a cupboard onto a nightworker who was sleeping there
I cycled the few miles on my bike to see what caused the pillar of smoke that I witnessed from our house on the kopje.
https://www.flyingthings.org/flying-articles/vitpwwm18pfr4ekdyxj67241r1nssf
Found this description of the incident:
https://www.rhodesianforces.org/rhodesianforces.org/aircolingraves.html
It was actually in 1959 and I would have been 13 (Corrected from12) years old at the time.
BTW, I was also listening in on the airband when the Vulcan had a problem with its nose wheel at the Ayr (where I now live) Air Show in 2014. See a 10 minute video here – not mine):
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=zxshOMFTZdM
I guess some newspapers still believe in “If it bleeds, it leads” — especially if they can namecheck somebody famous. But the steward didn’t help; if he’d been calmer the passengers might not have splashed the story.
I’m a bit surprised the 747 wasn’t clear of the runway, given the additional clearance that is \supposed// to be allowed behind them to let wake turbulence clear. An incident report might have been useful as a way to wake up the controller who cleared the Concorde for landing under questionable circumstances (and may not have encouraged the BA flight to use one of the high-speed taxiways).
I’ve seen this a few times on ATC audio clips on youtube, e.g. on LAX, where controllers cut it close in an effort to shuffle movements perfectly as to waste as little time as possible. Most of the time it works out, if it doesn’t there’s a go-around—but otherwise someone would’ve been circling in the holding pattern. As long as everyone is aware where everyone else is, it works out.
I like that the journalists asked BA for comments and included their response. Breaking news (and especially social media nowadays) can be quite one-sided, leaving people confidently misinformed. Not everyone researches their facts as thoroughly as Sylvia does!
Had a go-around flying into LAX. I was way in the back of a somewhat worn-out MD80.
Unlike the Concorde (and, incidentally, the 747) those aircraft pointed their nose down on the way in. So it was rather dramatically noticeable when suddenly the nose went way up and the engines howled with power. I asked on the way out what that was all about, but got a brushoff, and since everyone wanted to get off and I was in the way, I never found out exactly why.
Journalists don’t give a gold darn about the truth if it stands in the way of a juicy bit of sensationalism. Unless it is a technical or scientific publication.
I can tell a nice little story about that, maybe I will later.
The level of press ignorance is amply illustrated by the fact that many, even including aviation experts, call the FDR and CVR “black boxes”. As we know, they are dayglow orange in colour, with reflective stripes.
It is quite possible that Mike and I met at Redhill. I am sure that he knew Neil Williams who used to hold court in the Tiger Club lounge.
As I confessed, I was a late and initially reluctant aspiring aerobatic pilot and Neil was not impressed. In my defence, I did not have the finances nor regular access to aerobatic aircraft, so my progress was very slow.
Mike may have known my first co-pilot on the Corvette, Paul Reid. My career was hampered by the lack of job opportunities. Paul had prepared his career path with military precision. He had worked as an instructor at Weston in Ireland, got a job as co-pilot on a Turbo Commander in Scotland, joined me as an F/O on the Corvette, returned to flying the Commander and then a King Air 200 in Scotland. He joined British Caledonian as F/O on the BAC 1-11. When this company was absorbed into British Airways he did quite well on the “seniority ladder”.
He had no strong ties with London when command positions came up with BA Scotland. Many more senior pilots had families, school going children and the property market was not favourable. Paul bid it and was promoted to command on the HS748, but right then the ATP was introduced and Paul moved right up to this, then state of the art, type.
Mike, the Concorde pilots must have been a small group. Paul ended up as an F/O on Concorde. Until he failed his medicals.
My instructor on the Corvette was an Aerospatiale test pilot and also involved with Concorde. He was French, Robert Briot.
His ATPL had only one type rating: ANY AIRCRAFT ! I have seen it.
A pity we never met, but maybe we did. Michael ran the Tiger Club in an age when there were very few rules. Or if they were, they could be broken. Norman Jones still flew into Croydon after its closure. Today the “Dawn to Dusk” would lead to licence suspensions.
The girl behind the desk was Philly and the engineer with the bad teeth and his collection of native American objects was Dev.
I still hear him saying: in his Cockney accent: “You ae not getting my baby again,” as he wiped the oil from the flanks of G-ACDC. Always blaming the pilots for “messing up his airplanes” before relenting.
He was a character.
I still have the Tiger Club mirror with ACDC. I wonder how many have survived the intervening 45 years.