reims cessna fra150l reims

FLIGHT TESTReims Cessna FRA150L

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Nick Barnard has his heart and ‘muscle memories’ tugged by a beautifully restored Aerobat − a great little all-rounder, ideal

for stretching the student pilot’s boundaries with unusual attitudes and basic aerobatics. Photos Ed Hicks

Reims Cessna FRA150L

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Some time past, when I was just 17 and everything was possible − like now, really − I began the first of my many dangerous adventures. I passed my driving test,

bought a car, kissed school goodbye for the summer and set off for Ipswich to learn to fly. The year? 1975. How irrepressibly joyful it was to be so young in the middle of such a horribly groovy decade. I had the look too, including bell-bottoms, long(ish) hair and a clapped-out, late-sixties, metallic-blue mini van with extra wide wheels, MG engine, bucket seats and eight-track stereo stuck on the Doobie Brothers.

Swerving and speeding my way through London to East Anglia, I knew that my aeronautical destiny lay before me, and that a fleet of fab aeroplanes awaited my tender ab initio caress, and that, of course, I’d be the first on the course to go solo, first to get my licence and be right at the top of the testosterone table if any girls were about. All (male) pilots are genetically coded this way, regardless of age. And as for the aeroplanes, I was not disappointed. They were new, they were aerobatic and they had Rolls-Royce engines. Who cared that they were destined to be the fourth most widely produced

civilian aeroplane ever (the Toyota Corolla of the skies). They were designed in Kansas and built in France. Arranged for all the world like a row of Mach 2 Phantom jets, here was a line of brightly-coloured, checkerboard-painted Reims FRA150L. And, most delightfully, they were mine for a month at the expense of the RAF − and I was all theirs.

Which is why, 38 years later, when the chance came to fly a newly-renovated FRA150L, I did not scoff or laugh dismissively, or suggest that all such miserable,

underpowered, aerodynamically naive spamcans be crushed and/or burnt forthwith. In fact, I was rather curious. After all, I owe my first powered flying experiences, including my first solo, navigation and aerobatics, to a French-built Cessna 150 Aerobat. And as I’d not flown one since 1980, I wanted to feel just how many and how much of my old muscles memory remained intact.

Muscles memory? It’s what they teach you in an Unlimited aerobatics training school in the Ukraine. If you fly enough hours on one type, have sufficient capacity and an innate ability to learn, pretty soon you’ll be flying instinctively. Which is probably why I spotted G-AZOZ the moment I arrived at Henstridge on a very cold and bright spring day. I was catapulted back in time, primarily inspired by its gleaming, period colour scheme, and as I drew near I was not disappointed. The paint shone smooth and immaculate, the spinner was as pointy as an interceptor, the new matt-black prop was razor clean and sharp, and the interior spick-and-span as if fresh from the Reims factory.

Wizard tailThis is James Jones’ second Cessna. I don’t think he realised that he had a restoration project to look forward to when he purchased this 150 some two years ago. There’ll be many with fond memories of this particular aeroplane, when it was based at Southend, painted in a fetching

Nick and James admire an impressive restoration project.

The very petite panel is completely original and packed with sturdy old-world

instruments and equipment.

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purple scheme, complete with a wizard on the tail. Very seventies really.

James already knew that the 150 is an ideal, inexpensive hour-building machine for a budding airline pilot (which he is), so he lashed out about £10k on ‘OZ (the wizard of), and enjoyed some very frugal flying, for about three months. Then he discovered she’d had a prop strike at a flying school, so James found himself diving head first into a vortex of spending, as he overhauled the engine and the prop, commissioned a whole new paint scheme from bare metal, and then, to complete the restoration, ordered a new interior too. Little did he know how rare the parts are for the 130hp RR Continental, and that the seatbelts had to be made in America, at an eye-watering cost. Yes, the restoration took a lot, lot longer, and cost a lot, lot more than he had bargained for. Welcome to aviation, James. But the result? A very pretty little aeroplane that now looks just right.

Little? I had forgotten just how small a 150 is. It’s dinky. Like my Cessna 180, as you walk around, it’s easy to bang your head on the trailing-edge, but unlike my 180 I can also crack it on the leading-edge of a 150.

Trembling in the wind, she’s light, petite and easy to manhandle on the ground. Looking at her in 2013, the 150 is really more a retro-ULM than a 70s’ trainer. Which is why, stepping up to a Piper Cherokee from a 150 as a student pilot is like graduating to a Cadillac after a stint in a Mini.

As I examined this pristine aeroplane, I revel in a jumble of memories and comparisons − admiring the workmanlike simplicity of the design

with all its weaknesses and strengths: the tightly-cowled engine, complete with combined dipstick and oil filler cap; a rather spindly and fragile nosewheel; the blunt aerofoil section; the massive Fowler flaps; the long, thin ailerons; and then, down the back, the swept tail with its relatively small rudder and elevator. Overall it’s a very spare design – there’s no added flesh or fluff on this machine.

Ducking under the wing to open the door, with a flick of the familiar door catch, I find myself laughing − the cabin is not just small, it’s intimate. There’s no gap between the seats and once you’ve folded and unfolded yourself into the cabin you feel as though you’re sitting on the floor. Looking around from inside, of all my memories of this design, the seating position was the most surprising, as I’d completely forgotten that you’re entirely buried underneath and in the midst of the wing. Yes, I remember that there are two slit windows above, but they’re narrow slit windows, and completely useless for taking in the view upwards to either side. Which is why my instructor of yore used to tap (more like clout perhaps) my hand on the controls frequently, reminding me to lift the wing up to see if the skies were clear above that roof-like slab of an aerofoil, before allowing me to drop the wing into a turn.

The views to the sides and rear are terrific, and there’s also a handy mirror, which my instructor used for grooming purposes only. The coaming is set low so the view over the nose is suitably panoramic, and as the panel is also compact, it’s chock-a-block with instruments and avionics, switches, levers, circuit breakers and knobs, all of the most original kind. To me this is heavenly. The more the fiddly bits and the longer the checklist, the happier I am – and this baby also has electric flaps, jettisoning doors and an aerobatic harness. And in case you forget you’re in charge of a stunt aeroplane, there’s a super-cool C150 Aerobat logo emblazoned across its brow and embossed on the yoke. Ah, I forgot to mention the yoke? This didn’t do it for me then either. A yoke – they’re for the big boys.

Before you do this, that thorough prefight (below) becomes even more important.


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You can see more photos from this feature on the iPad edition of FLYER and on the Editorial Extras section of the FLYER forum at forums.flyer.co.uk

“Stable and predictable, and not at all complex, the 150 is a more than adequate platform for teaching good

habits, such as spatial awareness and anticipation.”


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Me, an airline pilot? No way. I was going to be a test pilot, and that didn’t include airliners, or anything sensible.

Kiss the sodFresh from its overhaul, the Rolls-Royce Continental catches first time, and feels smooth and willing from the start. Quiet too. I remember flying 150s and 152s in the US using a hand-held mike and the cockpit loudspeaker only, and without any problem at all. Taxying? A doddle. The combination of the excellent view forward with the effective toe-brakes, and the direct and instant steering from the rudder pedals, means that she drives more like a compact hire car than an aeroplane, which I assume was intentional.

Lining up, I make one last pivot, push and pull of the yoke, prod the now-soggy pedals for a swish of the rudder, and let her rip. Accelerating with verve, we’re skywards sooner than I anticipate, and she’s very happy to climb at 70mph, showing a lusty ascent of between 650 and 700fpm. We use 10° of flap for take-off, and I leave this hanging out until settled and climbing strongly above 250ft.

Time to turn crosswind, and just as I’m about to make a right turn, the muscles memory arrives, and instinctively I drop the left wing, clear the sky

above and ease her around. Easing is the right word. She’s not got much bite when it comes to control harmonisation. The rudder pedals feel woolly and soft, which makes for a happy-go-lucky style, which belies its pedigree, but at least the long thin ailerons are lighter and more responsive than I remember. We complete a couple of circuits, and in no time ease back into the simple rhythm of the little trainer. Stable and predictable, and not at all complex, the 150 is a more than adequate platform for teaching good habits, such as spatial awareness and anticipation. And boy, do you need both. The side-by-side seating and their buried position ensure that the wing blanks out most of the planet from the left seat in a right-hand turn, so you had better make sure that you have been eyeballing the circuit pattern and the extended centreline with dogged thoroughness. Did I say ‘LOOK OUT’? No wonder my instructor repeated this like a stuck record. He was right, and I’ve never forgotten him.

On final, I take no more than 30° flap in a gusty crosswind, leaving the lift-killing 40° max setting for a calmer day. It was these highly-effective Fowler flaps that saved my GFT back then. I’d never flown with the CFI before, and his waxed moustache and silent glare must have unnerved me, as I ended up about 500ft too

high on final when making a simulated engine failure approach from high key. I really was not going to make it. Without thinking, I selected full-flap, stuffed the nose down and dropped precipitously. That woke him up. Especially when I just so happened to round out with unerring accuracy and kissed the sod effortlessly. First time lucky, as they say. He said so too, in a manner of speaking, and then signed me off.

Today I have James in the right-hand seat to keep an eye on me, so we make a more sedate approach, and I enjoy immensely the controllability of the little 150 at the flare. Sitting so low in such a small aeroplane with a high wing, the ground feels intimately close and it’s no surprise that she’s an excellent spot-landing machine, and also has plenty of elevator authority at low speed to allow you to be rapped on the knuckles again if you don’t ease back and keep the weight off the nosewheel. This is another essential lesson. Anything you steer an aeroplane with – whether the nose or the tailwheel – was not designed to be landed on, so just don’t do it.

Unusual attitudesRetracting the flaps with one flip up of the flap switch, I power up and we’re airborne in a moment. Now for the serious stuff… some

Not a fully original 1970s’ Aerobat scheme, but in many ways a lot more striking.

Unusual attitude? It’s great fun barrel rolling an Aerobat...In a very small cockpit you get close and personal with your passenger.


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■ DIMENSIONSWingspan .............................................33ft 1in/10.1m Length .....................................................23ft 7in/7.2mHeight ........................................................8ft 6in/2.6m ■ WEIGHTS & LOADINGmtow ................................................. 1,650lb/748kgMax useful load (with full tanks) .......314lb/142kgFuel capacity ................................. 98 litres/25.9usg ■ PERFORMANCE Max cruise speed .......................... 122kt/226kmh Best rate of climb ......................846fpm/258mpmService ceiling ............................. 14,000ft/4,267mRange at max cruise .......................644km/348nmTake-off (to 50ft) ...............................1,036ft/316mLanding (from 50ft) ..........................1,076ft/328m ■ ENGINE Continental 0-240-A, 130hpProp McCauley 1A135/brm7150 ■ SEATING2

■ PRICE£15,000-£35,000 ■ CONTACT DETAILS www.cessna.org

TECH SPECCessna FRA150L

040 FLYER JULY 2013

stunts. This is an Aerobat after all, good for +6/-3g. We climb, which takes a while, and towards the top of the ascent we check the aircraft is secure and ready, and that all is clear above and below at our safe height.

Stalling first. Benign. There’s a trembling motion and a waffling wing-drop at about 55mph. Spinning is completely textbook and without vices, which is a good thing, as this was always the ultimate thrill when training – to dare to spin when solo – and I loved it. My instructor loved being sporty too, so we always ended every sortie with a round of ‘you show me an aero and then I’ll have a go too’. And what a laugh she is to throw about. I even remember the entry speeds – they’re not hard – as it’s 130mph for most everything and 145mph for a Cuban eight.

And what is most everything − when you’ve a yoke? Basic aerobatics. For any rolling, you need to stir the yoke around with gusto. Very entertaining and very predictable. Surprisingly, she gathers speed remarkably quickly as you dive, and so you’ll need to throttle back almost immediately to prevent overspeeding.

A hopeful glance…Looping is a big old haul back, a hopeful glance out through the slit windows above for anyone about and then pile on the power again as soon as you can in the climb, keep on pulling until you feel the yoke is about to come off, and then let her fly over the top, which is where the ceiling windows help a bit to make sure you have kept to a straight line on your ground reference. She’ll make a sort of ovalish loop without a care, and I reckon from 145mph a nice loopish shape will be easy.

The languid roll rate means that well-timed and balanced barrel rolls suit this aeroplane, and yet it’s also an ideal machine to learn the hard way that you must raise the nose well above 55° before rolling, or you’ll be going downhill very fast, upside down. Aileron rolls are a hoot. We used to compete to see just how fast we could the rotate the yoke to roll her round. Given her ability to speed up downhill, she also slows down almost immediately you pull up, so it’s best to start the aileron roll with about 20-25° nose-up. Rate of roll? Slow. But not pedestrian. I’m having so much fun I forget to time her.

It’s no wonder you need 145mph for the Cuban eight. She’s not equipped for negative g flight so you need plenty of energy to get over the top as fast as possible and then roll as soon you are on the downline. I realise this after my first attempt when slow, and manage a sort of autorotation recovery, which is remarkably accurate and controllable but not as intended.

Which reminds me, snap rolls… climb at 90mph, tug the yoke, bat in the rudder and whoosh, round she goes, with a lazy sense of haste. All perfectly safe and very rewarding to finesse. Which is why I am not going to say anything amusingly contemptuous about this stunningly restored example of a classic spamcan.

For a novice pilot, she’s a great platform for introducing really meaningful, unusual-attitude recovery, and a dose of simple aerobatics to spice up each lesson. True, she’s not a true aerobatics trainer, more of a little all-rounder with amusing aerobatic capabilities that are ideal for stretching one’s boundaries, safely. I loved learning to fly with that sense of freedom all those years ago, and I love it now. ■

Cheap and cheerful, effective and simple. Old Aerobat made new again.

reims cessna fra150l reims

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