BahrainLad

When British Airways flight BA002 touched down at London’s Heathrow airport in the early evening of October 24, it was the end of a dream that has spanned almost 50 years. From the humble post-war ventures into supersonic flight through to the technical masterpiece of Concorde, Britain and France cooperated to create an aircraft that has inspired millions.

Everything about Concorde screams “special”. At the exclusive check-in area at Heathrow’s Terminal 4, set off to one side away from prying eyes, the experience begins. At a time where air travel is increasingly fraught with delays, intrusive security and hostile staff, Concorde passengers are whisked through airport formalities with seemingly as much speed as they fly through the air.

In the Concorde experience, there is no such thing as a “lounge”. It is simply “The Concorde Room”. Perhaps this “room” sums up the aircraft itself: old-school British ambience with a dash of hyper modern style. It’s modelled on a traditional London club, with silver service and the finest vintage champagne. But the chairs are by Conran and the “ComBiz” centre showcases the latest in office technology for the executives for whom time really is money.

I receive my exclusive, muted-grey Concorde boarding pass. Seat number 24A, a window seat three rows from the rear. As this is Britain, there’s a hierarchy in seat numbers. The Queen gets row 1, as did Princess Diana. Sir David Frost, the famous broadcaster, insists on row 8 at the rear of the front cabin and reportedly sleeps the entire flight.

Despite my lowly position at the bottom of the supersonic food chain, Concorde experts swear blind that the back is the best place to sit, because of a simple fact: you’re closer to the engines.

Ah yes, the engines. Four Rolls-Royce Olympus 593 turbojets that are the most powerful pure-jet engines in service. The engines even have “reheat”, a system straight out of Top Gun that the Americans call “afterburner”. Designed in a time where there were no noise restrictions, they ensure that the residents of West London know exactly when Concorde arrives or departs.

At 1730, one hour before blast off, a ripple of excitement runs through the lounge. A Concorde is taxying in the distance. As it comes closer to Terminal 4, I have a sportsman’s bet with an American from Las Vegas as to whether this is the aircraft we’ll be travelling on. The number of passengers on once-in-a-lifetime tickets is evident by the crowd of people standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows taking photos.

At 1800, an announcement. Due to the limited space available on board, we must check our coats and large bags for retrieval in New York. The excitement is now intense. I suspect that the regular First Class passengers waiting for other flights are bemused….or maybe even jealous?

The frosted-glass doors open, and we are finally allowed to board Concorde “Alpha-Golf”. As I step through the aircraft’s door, I have to duck to avoid hitting my head (BA, thinking of everything, have provided a soft cushion just in case).

The first thing that hits you is the smell. Old. The scent of Bakelite and other sixties-era materials. Despite a number of refurbishments in her 27-year career, the aeroplane’s fixtures and fittings make her feel like a museum piece. The seating however, is bang up to date. The finest Connolly leather, again designed by Conran. And although the cabin is cramped with only four seats across and the legroom is only slightly more than economy, when seated you feel cocooned….like in an old, extremely fast sports car. It’s tight, but comfortable.

Captain John White comes over the loudspeakers. We’re running slightly late, but due to our flight above the weather, we’ll be able to make New York on schedule with a flight time of 3 hours and 20 minutes. A strong smell of aviation fuel fills the cabin as the engines are started one-by-one.

Soon we’re trundling across Heathrow’s expanse of tarmac, dodging the lesser subsonic beasts that clutter up the airfield. Particularly satisfying is the construction workers at the new Terminal 5 who down tools to watch our departure. After a quick brief from the First Officer (“I’m sure it’s a take-off you’re never going to forget”) and the departure of a Lufthansa Airbus, we’re clear to go.

And this is where the environmentalists have a collective coronary. Pumping pure fuel into a jet engine exhaust and then setting fire to it is never particularly economical but it’s essential for Concorde to get off the ground with her 100 passengers. We scream down Heathrow’s runway 9-left and at 250 miles per hour, lift-off.

Even in the cabin the noise is tremendous. We’re heading west, so at 100 feet above the ground, the First Officer eases us into a right turn to avoid disturbing the residents of Central London. The BA engineering base flashes past the right hand windows quicker than I’ve ever seen it and the look on the face of the young girl in 25D is a picture. But then the reheats are turned off and there is a noticeable reduction in acceleration and noise.

Concorde cannot fly supersonic over land so there’s a brief lull whilst menus and drinks are handed out. However, soon we’re approaching the Bristol Channel and our “acceleration point”. Again we hear from the First Officer, and he advises that we’ll feel two slight nudges as he re-engages the reheat in pairs, and then twelve seconds later we’ll see Mach 1 indicated on the displays at the front of each cabin. We feel the nudges, and a ripple of applause runs through the cabin as we break the sound barrier.

All the time accelerating, dinner is served. It is quite possibly the finest I have ever experienced in the air, washed down with the very best wines. Purely in the interests of research, I undertake to sample each on offer…..but decide to continue with the 1986 Pol Roger Cuvee Sir Winston Churchill, favoured champagne of the great man himself.

We pass Mach 1.7, and the reheats are disengaged. At this point Concorde becomes absolutely unique. No other aircraft, past or present, civil or military, can continue to climb and increase speed beyond Mach 1.7 without reheats/afterburners. No one can catch us now.

An hour out of London, and at 53,000 feet above the surface of the earth, we reach Mach 2. The outside air temperature is –63 centigrade, and we’re moving at 21 miles a minute, or 1280 miles an hour. But apart from the slightly increased noise, it’s identical to a normal aeroplane. You have to keep reminding yourself that you’re covering the ground two and a half times faster than the 747s and Airbus’s soldiering along 20,000 feet below you, all the while in an aeroplane that made its first flight in 1969.

As we speed across the ocean, the sun, at dusk in London, rises in the west and the sky gets brighter and brighter. We burn off fuel, lighten our load, and “float” up to 60,000 feet. At this height, the curvature of the earth is visible. The only people who fly higher are military pilots in pressure suits and oxygen masks, and they certainly aren’t drinking champagne……...

But the trade-off from the speed is that it’s all over too quickly. We decelerate abeam Long Island and drop 20,000 feet in 5 minutes to fit into JFK’s arrival pattern. A wide curving approach with a clear view of Manhattan…we touch down and there is a massive roar from the reverse thrust of the engines. Laughing, I have to throw my hand out to avoid hitting the seat in front. It’s 1745 local time, 45 minutes “before” we left London.

The immigration officer remarks: “You flew here for the day just to experience the Concorde?”

As I take my cab into the city, a large billboard advertises British Airways’ new flat-bed business class seats. But all the comforts, technology and service will never beat Concorde’s speed. Who needs a bed when you’ve chased the sun, been to the edge of space and flown higher and faster than most of the human race can ever imagine?