Sopwith Camel

3 April 2024

From my memory of the 16" wingspan KeilKraft Sopwith Camel kit. I built one (did I?) almost half a century ago. See Outerzone's Sopwith Camel (oz1391)

Content of the kit

I remember that it was a comprehensive but basic kit (contradiction?). You get a nice big plan, I felt I transformed into an Engineer or Scientist who is about to embark on a great journey. I was a teenager, the plan was easy to understand, there are lots of references and diagrams and a stage-by-stage construction write up.

KK assumed you enjoy finding bits and pieces of stuff and saves their time by actually requiring you to know foreign words like 'bond paper', 'radio wire', 'thin card' and 'postcard' (ok, I do know what is a postcard) and have them at hand. You do get a piece of wire to bend and cut, a plastic/nylon cowling, thrust button, a set of wheels, a propeller and almost everything else to complete a basic model. I think tissue was provided. If you are interested to make the twin machine guns though, you have to provide straws and needles, the plan explains how. If you want to have rigging (and which WWI biplane does not have rigging!) you are on your own, there is no instruction on the plan and you have to source something suitable yourself.

The kit provided a few short length printed balsa sheet. You are expected to cut out and sand accordingly to ensure they fit reasonably well. Thankfully, I remembered that it fitted okay, but what did I know as a teenager? I don't remember if my kit came with a decal sheet, it probably did, as shown in Outerzone's scan. The kit also had a rubber strip and a bundle of balsa strip wood.

You have to ready your own set of tools, sandpaper, glue, dope, paint etc.

Building

It was easy to build, but tedious to cut out from the sheet balsa. I don't think I cut out the ribs perfectly, I didn't pin them all together to sand them to final shape, that was an advance concept and it was not spelled out in the instructions on the plan. The leading and trailing edges were from strip wood, they were easy to assemble and glue together to make up the centre sections and wing panels. The fin, stabiliser and fuselage sides were easy to cut out. I didn't manage to bend the wire undercarriage accurately and didn't know how to adjust.

Covering and Painting

I don't remember that I had problem covering the model and I used poster paint to colour the model.

I was proud of my handiwork. 

Flying

Didn't happen.

I must have forgotten to re-read the instructions, I don't remember adjusting the centre of gravity. I only remember that the plastic propeller whirled for only a short time. 

Looking back, this kit is not suitable for flying: 

• Sopwith Camel has a very short nose, even if you put in a lot of nose weight and balanced the model correctly, I think it will not reach the required flying speed. It will only be a powered shallow dive.
• Radial engined biplanes have a lot of drag, the glide will be non-existent especially if it is overweight.
• The kit build is very heavy. The plastic cowling, generous sections of balsa may make it slightly more durable for crashing, but I can't think there can be any chance of a graceful flight.
• I don't think that increasing the rubber motor will help because the provided propellor is too small. 

Was it fun? Yes, it was a form of tedious fun, after you convinced yourself that it's the journey that matters and not the destination.

As re-told by Gemini:

The Kit: A Blueprint to Adventure

The KeilKraft Sopwith Camel wasn't fancy, but it sparked your imagination. The big, clear plan felt like a treasure map, and the instructions were like a guide for a young engineer. It came with basic materials – balsa sheets, wood strips, plastic bits – and expected you to be resourceful. Thread, paper, even needles and straws – these were your tools for extra details. It was a kit that challenged you to think outside the box.

Building: A Journey with Balsa

Building the plane was easy in theory, but cutting the balsa pieces perfectly? That was a whole other story. Sanding them smooth? Even trickier. But you persevered, slowly transforming the raw materials into the iconic biplane. The wings, tail, and fuselage took shape, and the little propeller seemed ready to spin dreams into flight.

Taking Flight (Almost)

Covering the model and painting it with poster paints – that was the fun part! You saw your creation come alive, a source of immense pride. But then came the moment of truth – launch day. Sadly, the flight was short-lived. Perhaps the weight, maybe the center of gravity – whatever the reason, the Sopwith Camel took a nosedive instead of a graceful soar.

The Importance of the Journey

Looking back, you realize the kit might not have been perfect for flight. The design and weight might have stacked the odds against it. But that doesn't diminish the experience. Building the Sopwith Camel was a journey, a test of patience and resourcefulness. It was a reminder that sometimes, the fun is in the process, not just the destination.

Ready for Take Two?

So, the Sopwith Camel never quite reached for the skies. But maybe that sparked a passion for flight. These days, there are tons of resources to help you build a model airplane that can take off. Interested in giving it another shot?

27 March 2024

When I was in my early teen, something clicked, maybe it was a lack of girls in my all-boys secondary school, maybe it was my lack of interest in the barbaric sport of football, maybe it was something else, I went crazy over aeroplanes. I was an aerophile, an aero-fanatic (I checked the dictionary, yup, I was clearly a fanatic). I saved my meagre allowance and bought myself a KeilKraft Sopwith Camel rubber powered model kit.

The KeilKraft Sopwith Camel is a 16" wingspan balsa model kit. I thought that it is an appropriate kit for a budding aeromodeller (yup, from the past issues of a magazine aptly named Aeromodeller, available at the Junior Flying Club, I qualified myself as an aeromodeller). I thought to myself that I ought to follow the history of aeroplanes. I would start with propeller planes and end with jet planes. It wouldn't be right to jump into modelling the Hawker Hunter, I ought to start with early planes. And so, after a few visits to the local hobby shop and the library of the Junior Flying Club, I splurged on the balsa kit which came in a nice colourful box depicting an artist impression of the Sopwith Camel.

I spent hours to complete the model to the best of my ability and did everything I could. Not surprising though, I did not get a single flight.

As re-written by Gemini:

Ah, the teenage years. A glorious time of raging hormones, questionable fashion choices, and in my case, an all-consuming obsession with aeroplanes. Let's just say the ladies weren't exactly lining up for a chat about the finer points of ailerons and rudders at St. Brute's School for Boys (football was more their thing, bless their little hearts).

So, fuelled by a potent cocktail of aeroplane obsession and zero sporting talent, I decided to become an aeromodeller. Yes, I looked it up in the dictionary – full-blown fanatic, me. Now, a sensible person might've started with a glider made of paper and a dream. Not yours truly. No, I went straight for the historical jugular with a KeilKraft Sopwith Camel kit.

Let me tell you, that box promised a majestic bird of war, a miniature terror of the skies! Reality, however, was a bit more…balsa-y. I spent what felt like weeks meticulously gluing and pinning, convinced I was practically building the real thing (minus the machine guns, thank goodness for concerned parents). The finished product was…well, let's just say it looked like a Sopwith Camel that had spent a rough night after one too many celebratory loops.

The big day arrived. Heart pounding like a piston engine, I wound up the rubber band motor, a terrifyingly powerful contraption that threatened to launch the plane straight into the stratosphere (or at least Mrs. Henderson's prize begonias). I tossed that not-so-graceful bird into the air, and…nothing. Zilch. It just sort of…flopped. Like a particularly enthusiastic but untalented bird trying to impress its mate.

Turns out, balsa wood and teenage enthusiasm aren't quite enough to defy gravity. But hey, that's the beauty (and occasional frustration) of model airplanes! Maybe the Sopwith Camel never graced the skies, but the memory of that spectacularly ungraceful launch? Pure comedy gold. Who needs girls when you've got the thrill of a balsa wood near-disaster, right?