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By Ray Ordorica
How about a 1:1-scale “model”?
(see photos below)
Twenty years ago, living in Alaska, I built a 1/6-scale model of the Dalotel DM 165. It was scratch-built, roughly following the Model Airplane News plans but with a built-up wing instead of foam, and I used a photo of the full-size airplane to get some details just right. My model had fixed gear and flew exceptionally well with a 0.46-inch 4-stroke Enya. I sold it when I left Alaska, and as is common with radio-control modelers, I got out of the hobby for a spell. That spell turned out to be two decades. Recently, I reacquired an interest in RC model building, looking for a project to occupy my mind during a cold winter after I lost my best friend of 13 years, my beloved dog Birdie.
Back in Alaska 20 years ago, I had been not only an avid RC flier but had also developed the ability to scratch-build pretty much any airplane, given a 3-view image or just a good set of photos. I wrote up how I learned all this in the October 1991 R/C Modeler magazine, the story entitled “R/C Model Building Class.” I had taken the college-level class, assisted the instructor during a second term and then taught it myself the third.
Now it was time for me to build another Dalotel, this one to be the ultimate model of what I consider to be the best-looking airplane in the world. Back in Alaska, I had begun assembly of a 1/4-scale Bridi-kit Dalotel, but it was just too big. It took a huge Quadra engine and would need lots of servos, lots of time, effort and money, plus a big flying field. A 1/5-scale model was what I had in mind this time, and it would have retracts, just like the real thing.
I went looking on the Internet for a decent set of photos, or a good 3-view drawing. I found some excellent detailed drawings of the real Dalotel from top, bottom and sides. I also found photos of it I had never seen before. I had previously seen only one photo of this airplane, which Dick Hansen had shown me. These fresh drawings and photos would have helped me build a really fine, super-accurate model. But I found something else, which changed the path of my life.
There, in a tiny Internet advertisement out of England, was a notice that the real airplane, the one and only Dalotel, was for sale.
When I saw that ad, I am quite sure my heart stopped. The airplane was offered as a “project.” The airplane had suffered a forced landing in England in 1983 and been badly damaged. The DM 165 sat in storage for 23 years until the owner decided to sell it. The price was posted, so I—laughingly—played with some numbers in my head. If I sold my old Purdey shotgun, I could actually afford the thing. Hah, I thought, this ad has been on the Net a few weeks; by now, the airplane is long gone. And even if it’s still for sale, there’d be the immense cost of transportation from England to the mountains of Idaho, and that would involve packing the airplane into an ocean-going container; and then there would be customs, import duty and dozens of other immense expenses as well as railway, trucking, trials and tribulations, not to mention the cost of the rebuild. Where would I rebuild it? Do I have the knowledge? Could I find a company to import it? I don’t even have a pilot’s license. But, wow! What a lark it would be to own and rebuild the one, the only airplane in the world that I truly love, the Dalotel DM 165.
All this flew through my head in the first few minutes after I found that ad. Tongue firmly in cheek, I sent off an email inquiring about the availability of the airplane, knowing full well that thousands of knowledgeable and “airworthy” folk around the world would have already seen the ad and some lucky fellow would have already snapped it up. I fully expected a disappointing—though quieting— answer.
Here is the exact message I received back from the English fellow who was acting as the broker, now my good friend, William Moore:
“Ray,
Thank you for your email. The aircraft is still for sale. It is
currently based near to Hungerford, Berkshire, UK. I attach some
photographs.”
Good grief, it was still there! For the next few days, sleep was nearly impossible as I wrangled with my options. With the photos of the damaged aircraft at hand, I searched my soul and evaluated my abilities. I would have to make new wings. They’re all wood, covered with wood and fabric, and that’s just like a model airplane. I have a world-class wood shop, which I call the "Old Cranky Workshop," with apologies to Norm Abram, so the wings would pose no apparent problems. The fuselage was tube-and-rag: steel tubing covered with fabric. If the tubes were not mangled—I had been assured they were not—all it would need was new fabric. I had never done that, so I got an estimate with a phone call.
The big question was the engine. Was it damaged? The engine had not been running when it struck the ground, so there was a good chance the crank was not bent, but there was no way of checking it. I’m a capable engine mechanic, so I could personally look into it, at least if the airplane could become an “Experimental.” The FAA would help me decide that, as it turned out.
Then I got help. My old friend Ken Weyand from my RC days in Alaska had just retired from a 36-year career of teaching (full-scale) aviation technology at the highest level. He knew me and my abilities well enough to give his opinion as to whether I could tackle the project and also provided insight into what I could expect along the way. I talked with Ken at great length while trying to decide what to do and how to do it. William Moore and I exchanged more emails as I came up with more questions. After sleepless nights and many hours of introspection, I sent the following message to England: “Please consider the Dalotel sold.”
And so I became the owner of the Dalotel DM 165.
The details took many months. There was the financial transaction, finding and securing a carrier, crating, transportation, insurance, customs brokerage, trucking and arranging many other steps. There were hoops to jump through, fees to pay, etc., along the way. Nearly everything was done via email. As noted, I became good friends with the broker, William Moore, who is the brains behind the British FlyMap (flymap.co.uk) airborne navigation systems. I also became acquainted with the former owner, Robs Lamplough, who collects aircraft and flies Mustangs, Spitfires, etc., for the British movie industry. He told me how the forced landing came about and some of the reasons for it.
WHAT HAPPENED
Michel Dalotel was not able to raise the money needed to build subsequent aircraft, and eventually the company that financed and built it, Poulet, Pere et Fils, sold it. The airplane was bought by Robs Lamplough, who registered it in England with G-BILA, replacing the original French F-PPZE markings. When Robs picked up the airplane, Dalotel basically said, “Here’s your airplane. Goodbye.” (In French; Dalotel speaks no English.) There was no walk-around, no manual of operating limitations, nothing. It was easy to see why Monsieur Dalotel’s efforts at selling his airplane ideas went for naught, based on Robs’ and my experiences with him. Michel Dalotel has been of no help at all in my restoration project. But that’s a story for another day.
Robs had extensive experience with a large variety of aircraft and was able to fly it home without incident. He told me he wanted to fly it inverted across the Channel, but thought better of it. Over the next year or so, he put a few hours on it over England and told me it was a wonderful flying machine, one of the best he has experienced. The fuel tank setup is tricky, as I found when I disassembled it, and its controls ended up being mislabeled. Accordingly, while flying it one day, Robs inadvertently shut off the fuel supply and was unable to restart the engine. The subsequent forced landing in a cornfield badly damaged the wings, bent the gear, tore up the fabric on the fuselage, broke the prop and shattered the canopy when the airplane nosed over. That he survived was no thanks to Michel Dalotel. This forced landing occurred in 1983. The aircraft sat in storage in England 23 years, until the owner decided to sell it, and I found that tiny ad.
ARRIVAL IN IDAHO
After what seemed like several decades of waiting, the truck arrived, and I finally laid eyes on the airplane of my heart. We brought the fuselage and engine into my living room, where they currently reside. The wings were stored here and there, and the rest of the bits and pieces went into various outbuildings on my little Idaho ranch. The Dalotel had come home.
Then came the huge task of determining what exactly it was that I had bought. More than two years later, that task is ongoing. There are mysteries to this airplane that could be clarified if the designer would turn loose the plans, or simply answer my letters and emails. He answered a few, and then quit when he learned I had minimal desire to pursue his dream of getting the airplane type-certified in the U.S. He doesn’t realize the most important step is to get the airplane flying again. While RC modelers are familiar with the Dalotel name, no one—not a soul—in the full-size airplane world has heard of it. That’s easy to figure when you realize the Dalotel has been grounded for over one-quarter of the entire history of aviation. I made a few phone calls to find out if there was interest in certifying or even kitting it as a home-built airplane, but got no good answers. There could be some interest in a set of plans, and I may pursue that. Monsieur Dalotel doesn’t realize he’s living in the foggy past.
The restoration of the Dalotel is a huge project, and I am doing it alone. I have, so far, stripped the old fabric off the fuselage and tail surfaces, taking hundreds of detailed photos along the way. I saved all the fabric with all the inscriptions and paint-design patterns on it. I disassembled the control linkages, firewall, the gas tank and fuel lines and removed all the old metric instruments. I tried to redesign the instrument panel, but got nowhere. I didn’t know what it really needed. Accordingly, I set out to get a pilot’s license, and in the course of achieving that goal, I learned precisely which instruments to use and where to put them. The Dalotel is flown from the back seat, and the rear instrument panel is tiny. There is also a front panel with redundant instruments for training. My redesigned rear panel will have modern, smaller instruments, still of the “steam gauge” type. After more than 23 years of working with computers, I well understand their limitations and don’t really want any “glass panel” instruments in my airplane. I took out all the wiring from the dash and made drawings of the electrics, which are complex because of the retractable gear.
I tore one wing fully apart and sliced its spar lengthwise to determine how it was built. Then I made a precise 1/4-scale drawing of the wing to determine the size and quantity of wood I’ll need to build a new wing. I found out how the electric retracts work, which is rather clever. I’ll have to build one wing completely but only partially rebuild the other, which has a good spar.
The restoration path is long and will include some new techniques and redesigns. Some things must change. The air brakes, so brilliantly constructed by Poulet, will go away. More on them later. The original fiberglass cowling was attached directly to the engine, another mistake. The cowling shook itself to pieces. It needs to be split horizontally and be mounted to the firewall, not to the engine. That little bubble on top of the engine cowling gave clearance for the oil dipstick, but there was no access door. Want to check the oil? Remove the entire cowling. I’ll add anti-collision lights and nav lights.
Although the Dalotel is kind of like a large model airplane, it all must be rebuilt in a manner on which you can bet your life. Not just any glue will do. I’m using West System epoxy for all the restoration. I’m using The Robar Companies' NP3 for anti-rust coating of the hinge brackets, control rods, nut plates, etc. The fin had come detached and had zero support at the front—before the forced landing—so the fin-attach system has been redesigned. I also redesigned the rudder construction. The old rudder had fallen apart because the original glue failed completely. The builder used non-waterproof glue. There were many mistakes made in the original design.
FOR THE RECORD
I’d like to set the record straight here because there’s a lot of baloney going around about MY airplane. First, it’s the Dalotel DM 165, serial number 01. The name is written just like you see it, a space between DM and 165, no hyphen. There is NO OTHER NAME attached to it. It is most emphatically NOT the Viking. The only place that name appeared was on the Certificate of Operating Limitations from 30 January 1968, well over a year before the airplane flew. This was emphatically crossed out on that document and signed by Michel Dalotel. The remaining name was as I gave it above. I suspect that Jane’s “Aircraft of the World” spies picked up the Viking moniker (they get into everything), and published a photo of the Dalotel with that name. But please understand, modelers, it is NOT the Viking any more than it’s the Cossack or the Fat Broad or the Dingus or any other gibberish some glue-sniffing modeler wants to stick onto it. I have all the drawings, notes and logbooks for the airplane and engine. I also have the promotional brochure for what was to be the complete line of three types of Dalotel, if they had gone into production. Throughout all those, and in the few letters I received from Michel Dalotel, the aircraft is always referred to as the Dalotel DM 165, serial number 01, nothing else.
This airplane is the only one of its kind in the world. It is the prototype of what was to have been a series of aircraft that would have made trainers, club, or personal aircraft that could have been used for anything up to and including aerobatic competition. Two of the planned versions had fixed gear, not retracts. These were the “Club DM 125” and “Club DM 160.” The Club versions were to have had 125hp or 160hp engines with fixed gear. The top-of-line “Professional DM 160” would have had retractable gear and a variable-pitch propeller (presumably a constant-speed). The 125hp engine version would have had a carburetor. The other two versions were designed for fuel injection. The Professional would be capable of unlimited inverted flight—just like my prototype. All three versions would have been rated (are you sitting down?) for plus and minus 14G. At maximum gross, the G-force limits were still over 9.
The Dalotel was designed in modular form, with many of the components to have been made in small specialized shops across France. Each wing is attached to the fuselage via a large aluminum knuckle that plugs into a channel in the side of the body. The tailplanes are similarly easily detachable. This would have made for rapid and easy maintenance, ideal for a training airplane.
The prototype, my airplane, has no flaps. Subsequent production aircraft were all to have had flaps. My airplane had air brakes, which is what those slat-like bits are on top and bottom of the wings. You may note, as I did, these are directly in front of the ailerons. My immediate thought when I learned what they were was that they would interfere with the ailerons. This was in fact confirmed by M. Dalotel in one of his few responses to me. (Well, duh...! If I could see that immediately, why didn’t he?) I will not put flaps on the rebuild. I’ll leave off the rather heavy air-brake mechanism, which Dalotel himself bolted shut after some of his earliest flights. My intent is to restore the airplane as closely as I can to the original design, including all the markings, including the French F-PPZE on the side. This requires an exhibition-class designation from the FAA.
The engine is a 165hp Continental IO-346A, purchased new from Rolls Royce, though assembled in the U.S. This is the same engine as used in the Beech Musketeer. The engine, which has only 300 hours on it, is fuel injected and has the oil system modified for endless inverted flight. It had a Regy prop, which was shattered in the forced landing. The gas tank holds 22 gallons, and you can burn it all whilst inverted. Sensenich (pronounced “...nick”) is working with me to create a suitable wood propeller for my elevation, 4,000 feet at the closest airport.
My airplane cruised at 170mph at 75 percent power. It stalled at 56mph. Top speed was 190mph. Climb was just under 1,100 feet per minute. The airplane was rather heavy, at 1,390 pounds empty. (I think I can beat that on the rebuild.) Gross was 1,850, so with 300 pounds of humans, it could carry a full load of 22 gallons of fuel and about 25 pounds baggage. With a half-hour reserve, you could fly at 75 percent power for 2.5 hours, which would give you just over 400 miles range. The cockpit is mighty cramped for a six-footer. I suspect that two hours in this airplane would result in the need for at least 22 hours rest. But of course, it’s designed for aerobatics, not touring comfort. And there, from all reports, this airplane excels—just like RC modelers have discovered about it over the years and as I did, long ago. My model was by far the best-handling RC airplane I had flown. I suspect the real one will be an eye-opener as well. Time will tell.
Ray Ordorica in Alaska with his .46-Enya powered Dalotel in 1990. It flew very well, but lacked dihedral and retracts.
The real Dalotel first flew in 1969, then sat forgotten for a quarter century following a forced landing in 1983 in England. The author bought it, imported it to the U.S., and has its restoration under way in Idaho. The restoration will retain all the original color and French markings.
Bachelorhood sometimes has its small advantages. Stripped of its fabric, the Dalotel's fuselage shows its steel-tube innards. All the bracing is incredibly strong and well done. The tubing was not damaged in the forced landing.
The author had to get his private pilot's license before he could redesign the tiny dashboard. The Dalotel is flown from the back seat. Note that the fuselage splays out at the bottom.
Author Ordorica cuts the fabric off one of the most famous rudders in aircraft history, at least as far as R/C modelers are concerned. He found failed glue joints from the use of non-waterproof glue. The rudder has been redesigned internally, but will look identical to the original in the restoration.
The fin and stabilizer are all flying surfaces, not simple by any stretch. The author copied and preserved all the markings and most of the fabric so the restoration will look identical to the original. The fin also had failed glue joints.
Looking just like a model airplane, only lots larger, the Dalotel's original elevator needs only some minor repair, bracing, regluing, and recovering. An electric trim-tab motor resides within the elevator.
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