A Tale of Two Gyroplane Flights

To wrap up five days’ worth of coverage of the Bensen Days fly-in in Wauchula, Florida, I took two gyroplane flights in two entirely different machines. Over the past 10 years, I observed that there now exists a great divide in the gyroplane community. About 10 years ago, the vast majority of gyroplanes on the ramp at Bensen Days could be readily identified with their spiritual father, the Bensen Gyrocopter. They all had open frames and they were all built at home. They were certainly cheaper to build and own than almost any other form of aviation.

Then came the new wave—often Europeans—who added composite bodies, plush interiors, and, dare I say, a little uptown class to gyroplanes. The power went up, the speeds went up (just a little), and, of course, the price went way up. The differences are stark. The legacy machines look like little hot rods, and the Euro machines look like Italian sports cars. Although both types of gyroplanes employ the same aerodynamic principles of pushing a teetering two-rotor-blade system forward with a pusher propeller, their flight characteristics are quite different.

For my first flight, I went right to the top, snagging a ride in a Magni M24 with Jason Wilkinson, chief of Sunstate Magni, out of Sebring, Florida. Stepping into the beautiful blue M24 was made fairly easy with its sizable door. Settling into the plush seat and clipping in made me think that this was a machine that my sweet wife would probably enjoy flying in. Although the cabin is necessarily small, the ergonomics felt just right. Magni avoids the cramped feeling of touching shoulders by staggering the seats slightly.

The glass panel in the Magni would have held its own with any Lancair or Van’s RV. The Dynon pilot’s flight display was flanked by enough switchology to shame a 727. Jason went through a steady flow to start the Rotax 915 engine, and we taxied to the end of the runway for a run-up. Again, Jason’s practiced flow made me think more of a certified cruiser than a sport gyroplane. He pointed out that the Rotax has both redundant ignition systems, Lane A and Lane B, and redundant fuel pumps.

Now, the takeoff procedure for gyroplanes is considerably more complicated than fixed-wing aircraft, and even helicopters. One cannot simply cob the throttle, keep it straight on the runway, and then just haul back on the stick. The care and feeding of the freewheeling rotor overhead requires skill and judgment. Before the takeoff roll begins, the rotor is “prerotated” by the engine to spin it up to about 75% of takeoff rpm. Then, the prerotator is disconnected, and the aircraft proceeds forward on the runway. Counterintuitively, the takeoff roll is commenced at a slower than maximum pace. The pilot pulls back on the stick to gradually feed forward airspeed into the rotor, speeding it up. When the rotor rpm reaches the acceptable level, the pilot then moves the stick forward to gain airspeed. Only when the right airspeed and rpm are achieved does rotation and climb-out occur.

Having said all of that, experiencing takeoff in the Magni made it difficult to even discern all of those steps. The M24’s powerful Rotax blew us through all of those stages with alacrity, avoiding 90% of the takeoff drama of lesser-powered machines. We were soon cruising at 700 feet above Central Florida’s beautiful farmland with a stellar view out of the spacious canopy windows. While cross-country flight is certainly reasonable in this enclosed cabin, it is readily apparent that the highest and best use is sightseeing. The Magni flies magnificently low and slow, changing direction in impossibly tight radius turns and even slowing to a virtual stop when an impossibly beautiful earthly feature comes into view. The gyroplane is almost as nimble as a helicopter.

I had the opportunity to fly the M24 under Jason’s tutelage and found it to be stable and easy to control. Although the stick was heavier than expected, it did not take long to master. Rolling into steep and tight turns was a delight. Airspeed and altitude control were a little more challenging than fixed-wing flight, but not by much. Landing the Magni was a joyful event. One can make a slow approach and tack on a generous flare at the end to result in a double-digit rollout. I think ours was about 30 feet. It’s hard not to grin after that.

The next day, I had the privilege of flying the back seat of Ray Barkley’s open-cockpit, open-frame (open everything) two-seater Dominator. The aforementioned two seats are perched on top of a narrow beam fuselage with the rotor mast and the engine behind the back seat. Mounting the back seat was a bit of a climb, and I had to be careful to keep feet and hands from entangling control cables. Once strapped in, I felt snug but exposed. Exposed in a good way, open to all of the senses and elements. On startup, Ray went through the same flows that Jason used to wake up the Rotax (this one a 912 with a big-bore kit). Taxiing to the end of the runway and prerotation was also similar, but I was not isolated from all of the sound and fury of the engine and the rotor whirling overhead.

This takeoff was certainly different than the one in the Magni. Remember all of those steps described in a gyroplane takeoff? Ray attentively and expertly went through each and every one of them. You could tell when he was carefully feeding in the power, when he was balancing the aircraft on the main wheels, and when he finally made the determination that the airspeed and rotor rpm were right on leading to a graceful liftoff. What followed was exhilarating. Our whole flight lasted only about 0.3 hours. We took off, turned crosswind, turned downwind, and then left the pattern to the west to fly over cattle ranches, wildlife ponds, and agricultural fields. Flying at only 500 feet AGL, you could see everything, and even smell the fresh grass below. The view from each side, and even under your feet, is completely unobstructed.

You know those times you have dreamed that you were flying without an airplane, when you just spread out your arms and lifted into the air? That was this feeling. The only difference was that the furious sound and buffeting of the slipstream (worse in the back seat than up front behind the windscreen) was immersive. For a moment, I felt as though I was in a Huey with the doors off. It had the same cacophony, the same shove of the wind on your face and, I swear, the exact same whop-whop of the two-blade rotor. I will have to admit that it was all a little emotional. I did not have a stick in the back. I did not actually control Ray’s beautiful aircraft, but I certainly flew. I have a little over 1,000 hours at the controls of various aircraft, from gliders to helicopters to 1.2 hours at the wheel of a B-17. I cannot think of any of those hours being more fun or emotional than the 0.3 hours I spent with Ray in his Dominator. I know I will be back for more.