Geek's Guide

Yet Filton display shows it's among the world's best-loved aircraft

GEEK'S GUIDE TO BRITAIN For a generation that never heard the sonic boom as Concorde broke the sound barrier overhead, the iconic white arrow-shaped aircraft dubbed "The Rocket" by British Airways is just a story our parents told.

Before we travel to the museum in Filton, Gloucestershire, that houses it, let's take a trip back in time.

Aérospatiale/BAC's Concorde – a joint Anglo-French effort – was first put into operation in 1976 and was retired in 2003, although its characteristic sonic boom was no longer heard above populated areas by the 1990s in the wake of complaints from those whose windows had been shattered. Concern from various governments meant the Concorde's flights were later limited to mostly over water rather than land.

Way back when, though, Concorde was the future: a symbol of an aspirational age, a supersonic jet that smacked of luxury, flying the rich and famous across the Atlantic on a diet of free champagne and lobster. It halved your flying time over the pond.

The Concorde was more than just a faster vehicle for the post-WWII jet set, it pushed boundaries and still holds the record for a commercial transatlantic flight – two hours, 52 minutes and 59 seconds from New York to London.

When you consider a Norwegian Airways Boeing 787-9 Dreamliner set a new subsonic record of five hours and 13 minutes in January – thanks largely to a 325kph (202mph) tailwind – Concorde's achievement is put in perspective.

Concorde's ability to travel at twice the speed of sound (Mach 2 - 2,447kph, 1,522mph) certainly set it apart but it was ambitious, too, daring and distinctive – a customised delta wing shape sculpted from metal and a distinctive drop-down nose.

This was an aircraft that flew so high, at 60,000 feet, you could see the curvature of the Earth, and so fast that the airframe stretched, gaining between 15.24 and 25.4cm (6-10 inches) during flight thanks to the in-flight temperatures.

It was the first commercial aircraft to "fly by wire", a system of electronic signals sent to the hydraulic flight controls. It had one of the most advanced onboard computers and autopilot systems of the time and faced challenges no other aircraft in history had encountered.

Conceived in an era of need and optimism, it wasn't the first – or the only – supersonic aircraft. Other nations worked on similar projects, notoriously the Soviet Union's suspiciously resonant Tu-144, nicknamed "Concordski".

Concorde, however, not was not only technologically superior to the accident-prone People's Plane – Concordski employed regular hydraulic controls instead of fly by wire, for example – it also enjoyed commercial service for much longer.

Not that it was all champagne and roses at 60,000 feet. Concorde was more prestige project than commercial success, a flag-waver that won our hearts but never quite delivered on the commercial vision. Twenty Concordes were built by the UK and French collaboration – 10 at Filton by the Bristol Aeroplane Company (BAC) that, through merger and nationalisation, became British Aerospace, and the rest in Toulouse, France.

The £19m Aerospace Bristol museum in Filton is now home to the last Concorde produced and flown – Alpha Foxtrot 216. The museum opened in late 2017, and with the 50th anniversary of the maiden flight of the Concorde approaching in 2019, it seemed the time had come for a visit.

Seeing the aircraft is one thing, though, but what of Filton – a suburban town outside Bristol. How did that play such a pivotal role in the international race to deliver the future of commercial travel?

Please fasten your seatbelts

Filton has been sheltering Concorde BOAF 216 since it landed on November 26, 2003, bringing the era of supersonic passenger travel to what's looking like a temporary end. Nine years later BAE Systems pulled the plug on the airfield itself, selling it in 2015 to Malaysian property developer YTL.

For the moment at least, you can get a sense of the airfield, despite the wire fencing and the overgrown concrete. Filton is important: it was home to BAC and it was from their airfield that each UK-built Concorde took off.

A Rolls-Royce engine factory and Airbus campus are what remains of the Filton aircraft industry and it's at one of the Airbus gates that our journey begins.

Bordering the runway's start is an ornate double gate flanked by two stone pillars topped with orbs – the Sir Stanley White Gate. This is the entrance to Filton House, which can be seen across the circular driveway. Filton House was a farmhouse when George White founded BAC with his son and brother as directors in 1910.

While flying grounds were established in 1911 in nearby fields, the aerodrome itself was created in 1915 for the sole use of the Royal Flying Corps. The company grew rapidly during the First World War, developing the Bristol Scout, a single-seat fighter, and later the Beaufighter for WWII.

Between the wars, a rapid increase in orders for aircraft, engines and prototype designs for the Air Ministry's rearmament programme led to the building in 1936 of a new headquarters – the Grade II-listed art-deco New Filton House, or Pegasus House as it was later called. It was renovated and reopened in 2013 and is part of the Airbus UK campus.

Arriving at the airfield, you can just make out the mounds and vents of air-raid shelters covered in grass despite the fencing.

Filton was severely bombed on September 25, 1940, killing more than 200 people. As a result, 504 Squadron, flying Hawker Hurricane fighters, was moved here the following day. On September 27 the Luftwaffe returned but were shot down and dispersed.

A triple-span hangar that dates back to 1918, first used by the Royal Flying Corps and then taken over by BAC, welcomes visitors to the Aerospace Bristol museum.

The galleries feature a chronological history of aircraft, including the Bristol Scout, a Beaufighter fuselage, a Sea Harrier jump jet, Bloodhound missile and an Airbus A320 cockpit simulator.

Supersonic or bust

"If God meant aeroplanes to fly he meant them to be this shape," said Morien Morgan in a 1964 BBC documentary about Concorde. As you enter the purpose-built hangar you get a sense of what he meant. It's a sleek, attractive aircraft.

Alpha Foxtrot 216, which was assembled on the other side of the runway in the Brabazon Hangar, is the centrepiece of a museum that received £4.7m in lottery funding.

The 216 was the last Concorde to be built, in 1978, and the last to fly. Its first flight was 20 April 1979, the last 26 November 2003. During that time 216 completed a total of 18,257 hours.

But this supersonic dream could have crashed and burned long before 2003. Born in an era of optimism, Concorde faced plenty of challenges.

The British commercial aerospace industry was under serious threat and needed big ideas just as the concept of supersonic commercial flight was gaining currency abroad in the US, USSR and France. Britain's politicians and planners spied an opportunity.

Concorde was not really borne out of any individual or idea but its origins date back to 1954 when Arnold Hall, director of the government's R&D organisation Royal Aircraft Establishment (RAE), asked one of its aeronautical engineers – Morien Morgan – to form a committee to study the concept of supersonic transport. Morgan was an influential figure throughout Concorde's development and is often referred to as the "father of Concorde".

The Supersonic Transport Advisory Committee (STAC) was created in 1956. Morgan, who headed the committee in Farnborough, drafted in an array of engineers and scientists including two German émigrés Johanna Weber, a mathematician, and Dietrich Küchemann, an aerodynamicist. They came up with the idea of the Ogive delta wing – although at this stage an M-wing was still being considered. Three years later STAC delivered a report on the commercial viability of a long-range supersonic aircraft (you can now obtain copies of reports from the National Archives).

Two designs were put forward, which led the government to commission feasibility studies from two UK manufacturers – Hawker Siddeley and BAC. The contract was eventually awarded to BAC, based primarily on the design work of Ted Talbot. Ironically, Concorde was to be the last hurrah of a business that had been making aircraft since 1910.

BAC had a long and distinguished history: founder White, chairman of what had been the Bristol Tramways and Carriage Company, was inspired to start aeroplane design and manufacture after a chance meeting with aviation pioneer Wilbur Wright in France in 1909. A year later he had produced the Bristol Boxkite biplane, which was flown for the first time by Maurice Tétard and Henri Jullerot in front of thousands at the Sea Walls area of Clifton Downs in Bristol. BAC had been working on supersonic travel since the 1950s, with a Type 198 aircraft based on several different designs that included a rather Thunderbirdsy M-wing with six engines.

This was the start of Filton's future as a centre for aircraft manufacture.

BAC went on to be pushed and squeezed into new shapes by the nationalising government of the time – forced together with English Electric Aviation, Vickers Armstrong and Hunting Aircraft to form the British Aircraft Corporation before becoming British Aerospace (BAe).

More money...

But supersonic flight was not cheap or risk free and it took funding at the national-government level. The British initially sought to share the burden with US manufacturers Lockheed and Boeing but that came to nothing. Next, it was the turn of the French. President Charles de Gaulle saw it as symbol of European partnership and chance to challenge US aircraft manufacturers' dominance. Britain was negotiating its first attempt to join the European Economic Community. More than fraternity, Concorde was a chance to reap the glory while sharing the costs and risks of the project.

Minister of Aviation Lord Amery pitched the idea to Parliament as Britain and France prepared to sign a deal in November 1962. "This aircraft," Amery told the House of Commons, "has every chance of securing a substantial part of the world market for supersonic airliners. This is a chance that will not return."

The idea was that from New York, Concorde would land routes to India and become so popular that BA's competitors Pan Am and TWA would be compelled to buy Concordes. Britain, France and the US would then work together on the next generation.

BAC/BAe and the French firm Aérospatiale were responsible for the airframe, while Britain's Rolls-Royce and France's SNECMA (Société Nationale d’Étude et de Construction de Moteurs d'Aviation) developed the jet engines.

The British spec was for a long-range craft – the Type 223 – for transatlantic routes, and Aérospatiale worked on a Super-Caravelle, for service by Air France to shorter routes in Europe an Africa.

The deal might have been signed but next came the political turbulence. De Gaulle vetoed Britain's bid to join the EEC less than a year later. Despite that, he stressed the Concorde project should continue. Next up, a private secretary briefing note to then Conservative Prime Minister Alec Douglas-Home from 1964 revealed the cooling of political will towards Concorde, preferring instead the idea of the Channel Tunnel. Then came the Labour Party, which had pledged to scrap Concorde in the lead up to the 1964 general election but reversed its promise in 1965 following a review.

In parallel to the politics were the technical challenges. Early on, in 1963, it was discovered that the plane as designed would not make the circa 5,580km (3,470 miles) to New York and upgrades were needed. As changes were introduced, Concorde became heavier and needed more powerful engines: the original Olympus engines were supposed to produce 30,610lbs of thrust but that increased to 38,050lbs. As the design and requirements changed, so did the costs, from the initial £95m estimated by STAC finally hitting £1.1bn, much to the chagrin of HM Treasury.

Concorde weathered these storms to make its maiden flight in Toulouse, France, on 2 March 1969 with the aircraft assembled in Britain taking off a month later on 9 April from Filton. The British Concorde had to make its maiden landing at RAF Fairford, 80km (50 miles) to the northeast, because the Filton runway was too small. Every Concorde constructed in the UK thereafter went on to make its maiden flight from Filton.

The US abandoned its own plans for a supersonic jet. Boeing cancelled its planned 2707 aircraft in 1971. The Soviets' Tu-144 programme did enjoy a modicum of success, taking to the air for a subsonic flight in 1968 and its first supersonic flight in October 1969.

The Tu-144, however, suffered two crashes: one in 1973 at the Paris Airshow, intended to show off the plane to potential buyers and the public, and then again in 1978. Bigger, heavier and louder than Concorde and lacking the sophisticated onboard computer systems, Concordski was considered too cramped and too noisy, while it flew over remote areas and was mostly used to haul cargo. Production was officially cancelled in 1982 after just 102 commercial flights – 55 with passengers. Seventeen were built, but were mostly scrapped with a few on display in Germany and Russia.

So, here we are then – Alpha Foxtrot

Walking underneath and around the plane gives a sense of its size. A wing span of 25.56m (83ft 10in), length of 62.10m (203ft 9in) and 11.30m (37ft 1in) tall. Teddington's National Physical Laboratory weighed Concorde in 1979 and found, empty, the airliner landed at 78,700kg.

For the kids (young or grownup) there is a table where you can test your paper aeroplane making skills. There are also information films projected on to the plane itself. Here you can see how the engines worked. The four Olympus 593s (built at Filton by Bristol Siddeley Engines, bought by Rolls-Royce in 1964) were advanced for the age – twin-spool turbojets with an internal cooling system. Two independent compressors made of titanium ensured they were light and strong to withstand potential damage but it was the power plant of the aircraft that enabled supersonic thrust. BAC had built the engines for the delta-winged Avro Vulcan V-Bomber, which was used to test the prototype Olympus engine in 1966.

Collaboration between BAC/Rolls-Royce, which developed the main engine, and SNECMA, which worked on the inlets, exhaust nozzles and afterburner, overcame a catalogue of challenges – not least how to keep the airflow intake at 350mph, regardless of the aircraft's speed. A series of ramps that could be angled to keep airflow consistent was devised by Ted Talbot, an aerodynamicist who became BAC's chief design engineer. The system created shockwaves so the engine could accept air for greater thrust. The result was something called supercruising, which could hit Mach 2.02, twice the speed of sound, without the need for afterburners. Concorde is still unique on this front. The ramps were controlled digitally, a first for aircraft. BAC Guided Weapons division at Filton helped develop the system, taking cues from the Rapier surface-to-air missile.

While innovative and efficient at Mach 2, at lower speeds the engines guzzled fuel.

The fuselage was made from an advanced aluminium alloy developed by Rolls-Royce, which could withstand high temperatures. A specially developed white paint also helped dissipate heat. The alloy also had to cope with expansion.

But it is the wing shape and nose that is Concorde's signature characteristic. In the original 1959 STAC report, one of the design considerations was for an M-wing but this was dismissed, due in large part to the work of Weber and Küchemann. They calculated that only a delta wing would give the aircraft the control it needed to cope with a range of speeds from take-off to Mach 2 and landing. Until this point, delta wings had only been used on a few military aircraft – notably the Vulcan Bomber.

Designed and built in France, the wing was customised from the standard delta for greater efficiency at low speeds. It employed a number of approaches to cope with the stresses of supersonic flight. There were few moving parts: subsonic aircraft might have 50 movable devices like flaps. Concorde's had just six "elevons" that replaced traditional elevators and ailerons for pitch and roll.

The wings also departed from the standard approach of bolting sections together, which could have introduced weak points and added unnecessary extra weight. So a process called sculpture milling was employed and the wings were carved from a copper-based aluminium alloy.

Concorde's famous nose cone, or "droop snoot" as it was dubbed, was also revolutionary in that it could move to an angle of 12.5° to enable pilots to see the runway on landing but also had to withstand temperatures of up to 127°C. A retractable heat shield protected the pilots and kept the front streamlined at maximum speeds. It was a typical solution to one of the many problems the designers and engineers faced. Nothing was spared.

Towards the back of the plane there are some stairs (there is also a lift) to the first floor. From here you can access the plane itself. Although you cannot go into the cockpit (it's glassed off), you can walk through the plane and get a sense of how small it is inside. Two rows of twin seats (you are not allowed to sit down!) are served by very small windows. This was not a plane with a view – it needed to minimise potential weak points and ensure the fuselage was robust enough to withstand the temperatures and stress of supersonic flight. Space is tight in this pencil-like fuselage with minimal legroom, narrow arm rests and an overhead that could just about manage a modern-day laptop case. As for the flight deck, there are three seats – pilot and co-pilot facing forward with Y-shaped joysticks – and a flight engineer to the right confronted by a curved bank of equipment. The flight deck is a grotto of switches and dials, a tribute to the days before cockpit computers and digital screens.

On exiting the plane, an exhibition room tells the story of Concorde through artefacts, documents, images and models. You will learn that Concorde was the most tested plane ever and an early user of the "chicken gun", a device that fired dead chickens at the windows to replicate flying into a flock of birds. It also ran the gamut of heat simulations and wind tunnels. There is a cockpit replica here also, built for pilot familiarity in the 1960s, and next to it a training "fuel pump simulator", which was used to teach engineers how to balance the aircraft by pumping fuel to and from the various tanks in the tail and wings. Here there are also stories of pilots, uniforms and even cutlery and Champagne bottles on display.

This is a detailed exhibition that pays homage to the designers, engineers and assemblers, as much as the pilots, crew and often famous passengers. As you head back out of the exhibition with Concorde in front of you and take it all in, you realise few aircraft, if any, get this sort of treatment. We have fond memories of Concorde now and there can be little doubt of the value Concorde brought airlines and nations in terms of publicity and prestige.

While it carried the flag for supersonic travel up until 2003, it had never been viable and failed to live up to Lord Amery's pitch to Parliament in 1964.

It was expensive to fly – a ticket to New York cost £3,500, meaning this plane was reserved for business or the rich and famous. The aircraft is calculated to have carried around 35,000 passengers at its peak, earning BA £20m in operating profits. Protests against overhead noise also helped curtail flights.

Concorde was also expensive to maintain. Potential upgrades for a plane conceived and designed during the 1950s and 60s and constructed during the 70s were considered too pricey. Despite this BAe and Aérospatiale had explored plans for a successor with 225 seats, three classes of passenger and capable of flying at two-and-a-half-times the speed of sound. However, with a potential cost of £9bn, the companies settled on something cheaper and more economical – the Airbus A380.

What finally killed Concorde wasn't the infamous crash of the Air France Concorde on take-off in 2000, killing 114 people. It was price. Airbus, the Anglo-French joint venture that provided maintenance, told BA and Air France in 2003 it was no longer able to provide support at an economical price.

For all that, Concorde was a fantastic achievement – a futuristic aircraft that saw off both the US and Soviets. And now Airbus, Lockheed Martin, NASA and others are all reported to be developing supersonic passenger aircraft. A new generation of quieter, more efficient commercial jets could fill the skies but few – if any – will have a museum dedicated to their memory. Concorde, in more ways than one, was clearly ahead of its time. ®