Covering the wings themselves was straightfoward. The nacelles were trickier and the u/c doors just very fiddly.
This picture shows the rather unsightly aerial routing needed to overcome the range problem. I hope to begin the conversion to 2.4GHz later this year or early next so hopefully this is only a temporary eyesore.
Once the markings were sorted, there was nothing left but to tackle the exhaust stubs. Never having done anything like this before, I took advice and clubmate Ken recommended carving them from balsa as a batch, so that is what I did. . .
First a slab of 6mm balsa was glued to a 1/64in ply backing sheet and marked out for four banks of 6 stubs.
Although Ken had mentioned using Dremel tools for the shaping, I found I was more comfortable with handtools for most of the work.
As I sawed and sanded the second set of grooves (left picture), it felt more like I was making a bar of chocolate than anything else!
Now though it was time for the really fiddly work on each of the 24 stubs.
To be honest, I eventually ran out of patience and reached for the sanding sealer - and then the dreaded paintbrush!
Although, close up, the resemblance to a row of coconuts is a bit disconcerting, from a distance, the overall look isn't too bad and certainly serves to break up the expanse of grey on those long nacelles.
At the field, the aeroplane is easy to manage, perhaps the hardest task being to persuade the ESCs and wiring to lay down neatly so that the top hatch can be fitted!
I understand that the word Welkin is a poetic term for the vault of heaven or sub-stratosphere, and was presumably chosen because of the aircraft's intended high altitude role (and Westland's penchant for names beginning with W!)
Whatever the reason, this flying shot seems to be an appropriate one with which to conclude this diary.
(hmm.... maybe I should have made that tailwheel retractable. . .)
