Being strapped into an ejection seat of a Mig-29 in a former secret Soviet airbase, lots of things start to go through your mind, like “Am I really here?” “Why is this dream so vivid?” and “What happens if this rocket ejection seat goes off on the ground while the canopy is raised?” Would my Goose literally be cooked and my wife waving at me with a nervous smile be accompanying a charred parcel home?
I had won a promotional competition at this year’s Farnborough air show in a contest organised by the famous Russian fighter firm, MiG. They wanted a new name for one of the unbelievable manoeuvres that their thrust-vectoring MiG-29OVT and I had obliged them by plucking the name “Cossack Powerslide” out of my noggin.
The prize: a trip to Moscow and a backseat ride in the ultimate piece of Cold War hardware and dogfighter par excellence the MiG-29 – an aviation buff’s dream come true.
And writing a lot about aviation, defence and fighter combat, (and flying online with the EAF) I was also intrigued to finally find out – what is it really like to be in a front-line fighter?
The day of my flight dawned bright and clear with high clouds. On the way to Zhukovsky Air Base south-east of Mosocw in a minibus with my wife, Sharon and two MiG PR representatives it was unreal – I still really didn’t believe I’d be going flying. To add to my surprise I found out that my pilot for the day would be Pavel Vlasov, Chief Test Pilot of MiG, Hero of the Russian Federation, and Head of the Flight Test Centre – one of Russia’s most experienced pilots and the pilot who earlier this summer, had stunned audiences at Farnborough and RIAT with somersaults in the MiG-29OVT.
We got to Zhukovsky Air Base and after a brief delay were waved through security – very Cold War!. Parts of the airbase seemed very rundown, but the building we were ushered into was modern and clean inside.
Here in a office we met the Russian aviation media that MiG had invited and Pavel strode in and we shook hands. He then sat down and proceeded to give the briefing. As he didn’t really know my job background (or the fact I’m a flight sim nut) he kept it as simple as possible and stressed that being airborne in the MiG would just be like flying in an airliner (minus the in-flight drinks!). He warned me not to worry too much about the ‘bitching betty’ audio warning going off as that did not necessarily mean an emergency. Finally he outlined our programme – a climb to 11,000m (34,000ft) followed by a dash to Mach 1.5, then descent to a training area where we could do aerobatics. Fantastic!
With that I went upstairs and was issued with flight suit, boots, G-trousers, helmet, helmet liner, and gloves. It took a while to fit the speed jeans as you are literally ‘laced’ into them by a technician with a metal eyelet hook tool.
After I was suitably dressed – the oxygen mask was fitted tightly and Pavel returned to slap a MiG patch on my shoulder “Identification friend or foe” he said. He then went to get changed himself and we waited for the ground crews to prepare the jet.
After about 20-30mins we were ready and we both walked out to the flight line, passing other interesting stuff in MiG’s bit of Zhukovsky (it is a flight test centre for all Russain design bureaus) such as the MiG-29OVT, and a Mig-29K naval prototype.
Our jet was Bort 90- a two seat UB version. I must admit all of a sudden it looked very small. The guy on top of the aircraft with what looked like a theolodite looking at the tailfins(!) also made me think… However the rest of the crew looked on the ball and extremely professional and the aircraft looked clean and well-maintained.
I climbed into the cockpit and as one of the technicians strapped me in, Pavel went over the cockpit layout and functions. He seemed pleased that I quickly identified the gauges – little did he know I‘d been practicing with Lock-On! In the rear seat however, visibility is limited. You are sat quite low down and while I was pleased that there was room for a tall bugger like myself, view directly ahead was non-existent. There is therefore a HUD repeater where the radar is and a periscope mirror contraption folds down from the canopy when the wheels are down so the rear pilot can see what is happening. I risked a question about the ejection seat as the technican armed the seat “Is it command ejection or what?” “Do not worry” Said Pavel “I will get us out if need be – but we are not going to lose this aircraft today.”
Minutes later he had climbed in. While I took in the cockpit and surroundings and adjusted my mask, he went through the cockpit checks and started the engines. The intercockpit comms were surprisingly clear and beats TeamSpeak! With taxi clearance given we lurched forward – I waved to my wife and photographers and we headed to the runway.
