A pylon, or mark-tower, on the flying track
Air-racing, as made popular by the proprietors of the Hendon aerodrome, forms so fascinating a sight that, on a day of public holiday, as many as 50,000 people will assemble in the enclosures. To stand near one of the pylons—wooden towers which mark the turning-points of the course—and see the air-racers come rushing by, is to gain such an impression of speed as almost makes the watcher hold his breath. The pilot in a flying race has one chief aim: to fly the shortest way. Every fraction of a second is of importance; and if he can circle the pylons more skilfully than his rivals, he may win the race, even though his machine—in its actual speed—may be no faster than theirs.
Looping the loop
“Looping the loop,” which has made so great a sensation, has taught airmen one definite lesson; and it is this: no matter how their machines may be beaten and tossed by the wind, they need not fear a fall—provided they are high enough above ground. The movements of a machine, as it makes a series of “loops,” are shown in the figure. The pilot reaches a high speed before he rears up his machine to begin the “loop,” and this downward velocity is attained by diving; then, when he estimates his pace sufficient, he pulls his elevating-lever back and the machine leaps upward, rearing itself vertically towards the sky, turning over on its back, then diving again and coming right-side-up—thus achieving a complete somersault. A skilled trick-flyer, also, will allow his machine to drop sideways or tail first, deliberately working the controls so that it shall do so. Then, just as it seems to spectators that he is falling to destruction, he will dive or twist, regain the mastery of his machine, and descend in a normal glide.