Why Do They Call It A Yak?

“No one is forcing me to do this,” I told myself. Haven’t we all said this to ourselves before at one time or another? More than once for me, I admit, but then I am always glad I tried something new after making this statement. Of course, it could backfire someday, but unless one is content to experience the world from the safety of the sofa, there is always a chance of things going wrong.

This thought is in the back of my mind as I sit in the backseat of the Yak-52 as it is warming up on the end of a dirt runway. The nine cylinder Vedeneyev M-14P radial engine is turning the 94” prop smoothly as its exhaust gives off the expected, and somehow pleasing, sound of raw power. This is the same engine used in the Sukhoi Su-26, one of the hottest aerobatic planes on the circuit. Needless to say, this would be a hell of a ride.

Riding and flying in different types of planes was nothing new to me.  Learning to fly an airplane was almost a rite of passage on one side of my family.  Many uncles and cousins had completed this passage with one cousin being killed while piloting a helicopter.  So danger is never far from my mind, in this and other pursuits.  

My cousin, a crop sprayer by profession and aerobatic pilot by choice, is checking out the instruments which are identified by Russian markings, as are the insignias on the fuselage and wings.  We are strapped in securely and our headsets are on as we wait for the engine temperature to reach operating range.  This waiting is the cause for my earlier thoughts, but too late to back out now.

I had already completed my research on this beautiful little plane, and little it was compared to most I had flown in.  My cousin had bought the plane up north and flew it home in short hops.  This was necessary because the tank was small and only carried enough fuel for about 30 minutes of flight time.  This was intentional as the plane was used for training Russian pilots before they began learning to fly the Russian jets.  With only this short flying time, defections in the Yak was a very remote possibility.

When the Russian government collapsed many of its military machines were then sold to the highest bidders.  One could obtain one of these great little planes at what was considered a bargain on the American market.  The plane was well made and tough to boot. 

The landing gear did not fully retract into the wing because of the potential of crash landings by the novice pilots.  Even if the pilot forgot to put the landing gear down, the wheels kept everything but the prop from being damaged.  The wood or fiberglass prop used by the Russians could be replaced quickly and the plane was ready to fly again in a a few hours.

Many of these great little planes have appeared all across the country.  Some keep the Russian insignias and paint jobs as they draw quite a bit of attention at the local strips.  Others have their Yak-52's camoflauged or custom painted, but whatever the color design, it still looks great.

“I think it has warmed up enough” my cousin David said.  We suddenly began tearing down the grass strip at an amazing rate of acceleration, the cotton field along side becoming a blur of white and green.  I decided to tighten my belts a little more and was looking down as I did so. 

To this day I do not know exactly what David did, but when the airplane lifted off it apparently went almost straight up.  My head snapped back and I lost my radio headset as I tried to pull my head back down.

I finally managed to get the headset back on as David asked me if I was okay.  “No problem” I lied while giving him the thumbs up signal.  Bravado was expected on this side of the family also.  For the next 20 minutes we tried every aerobatic trick in the book, and some not listed I suspect. 

At one time we dove from a high altitude, pulling over 6 g’s in the process.  David was well used to the g-forces, but I wasn‘t.  Finally I had to give in and holler “uncle,” which David knew would be the end result anyway.  "I'll have you down in two minutes" David said.

In a matter of minutes we were safely down on the landing strip and I had finished my first fully aerobatic flying experience.  i found out one thing though,  it is a lot more fun to watch than fly in a fully aerobatic airplane. 

I manged to get in my truck and slowly drive back home, no bumps or swerves on the way.  The toll on my body was significant as I spent the rest of the afternoon lying on the sofa after all.  No, I never did throw up, even though I wanted to, but at least now I know why they call it a YAK!