NIX FLIGHT ARCHAEOLOGY: MILFORD, 27 AUGUST 2017

Somewhere on a hard drive, buried beneath nearly nine years of newer drones, bigger adventures, European road trips, campervan madness and several generations of DJI technology, I found a tiny digital time capsule.

A CSV file.

Not exactly Raiders of the Lost Ark.

But this particular spreadsheet contained something rather wonderful.

It contained an entire drone flight from Sunday 27 August 2017.

Every second.

Every movement.

Every climb.

Every battery percentage.

Every photograph.

Every warning.

Every mile.

And when I started pulling the telemetry apart, a forgotten afternoon over Cannock Chase slowly came back to life.

This is NIX Flight Archaeology.

And this one is brilliant.

Sunday 27 August 2017.

Milford Common.

Cannock Chase.

Motors started at approximately 13:20:57.

A few seconds later, my original DJI Mavic Pro lifted away from the grass.

Twenty-one minutes later it was back.

In between, it had flown:

4.22 miles.

Reached 31.9 mph.

Climbed to 517 feet above the take-off point.

Travelled almost 1.45 miles away from me.

Taken 28 photographs.

Triggered video recording several times.

Used 82% of its battery.

And given me more than one warning that perhaps I was getting slightly ambitious.

This wasn't a quick buzz around Milford Common.

This was an expedition.

The aircraft isn't explicitly named in the CSV.

But everything about the telemetry points towards my original DJI Mavic Pro.

The battery behaviour.

The three-cell pack.

The voltage.

The flight endurance.

Cinematic Mode.

The speed.

The energy consumption.

Even the way it behaves when the signal starts getting thin.

This was the little folding grey machine that changed drones forever.

And apparently, in August 2017, I was quite happy to send mine exploring Cannock Chase.

Very NIX.

Flight date: 27 August 2017

Take-off area: Milford Common, Cannock Chase

Airborne time: approximately 20 minutes 58 seconds

Total logged flight: 21 minutes 21 seconds

Distance flown: 4.22 miles / 6.78 km

Maximum distance from take-off: 1.448 miles / 2.33 km

Maximum height above take-off: 517 feet / 157.6 metres

Maximum altitude above sea level: approximately 778 feet

Maximum speed: 31.91 mph

Photos taken: 28

Battery: 100% to 18%

Maximum satellites: 21

Estimated energy used: approximately 35 Wh

This wasn't a little Sunday afternoon hover.

This thing went travelling.

The first proper GPS fix puts the Mavic at:

52.788783, -2.040975

Milford Common.

Home turf.

The northern edge of Cannock Chase.

The GPS takes a few seconds to settle.

Then the satellite count climbs.

Nine.

Then more.

Eventually the aircraft is routinely carrying around 18 to 21 satellites.

And then I do something which immediately tells you this flight happened in 2017.

I climb.

Fast.

VERY fast.

Within roughly a minute of taking off, the Mavic is already above 500 feet.

At 13:22:57 it reaches the highest point of the entire flight.

517.06 feet above the take-off point.

That is about 158 metres.

And this wasn't some momentary spike.

For much of the flight I settled into a cruising altitude of roughly 420 feet.

It appears the plan was essentially:

Take off.

Go upstairs.

Stay upstairs.

Explore Staffordshire.

Drone flying has changed enormously since then.

Regulations have changed.

Awareness has changed.

My flying has changed.

But looking back through telemetry like this gives an incredibly honest picture of what recreational drone flying could look like in the early days of the Mavic.

And this particular Mavic was definitely stretching its legs.

The first part of the route heads generally south-east from Milford.

The aircraft travels out over the Cannock Chase landscape before looping back towards the launch area.

At this point, the flight could easily have ended.

It doesn't.

Instead, I apparently decide that one expedition isn't enough.

The Mavic crosses back towards Milford and heads off again.

This time in almost the opposite direction.

And this second leg becomes the real adventure.

The aircraft heads north-west.

Distance starts climbing.

Half a mile.

Three quarters.

One mile.

Then beyond.

At 13:33:26 the Mavic reaches the furthest point of the entire flight.

Coordinates:

52.802184, -2.067615

Distance from me:

7,645 feet.

1.448 miles.

2.33 kilometres.

Battery remaining:

55%.

Altitude:

roughly 421 feet.

And beautifully, at the exact point of maximum distance, the horizontal speed falls almost to zero.

That tells a story.

The aircraft didn't simply happen to reach maximum distance while travelling past something.

I stopped.

Hovered.

Looked around.

Probably framed a shot.

And then turned for home.

There are 28 photo events scattered throughout the telemetry.

Not all at once.

Not just near take-off.

They appear throughout the whole flight.

Some were taken a few hundred metres away.

Others were taken more than a mile from Milford.

The first recorded photograph came at around 13:23.

The aircraft was already more than 500 feet above the take-off point.

Later photographs were taken at ranges including roughly:

1,500 feet.

2,400 feet.

3,700 feet.

4,700 feet.

Nearly 7,000 feet.

This wasn't a range test.

It was a photography flight.

The Mavic was travelling because I wanted to see what was out there.

That part hasn't changed.

At approximately 13:25 I switched into Cinematic Mode.

And I stayed there for nearly eleven minutes.

That's one of my favourite details in the whole flight.

Because it reveals intent.

I wasn't just flying around quickly.

I had deliberately switched the aircraft into the smoother cinematic flight mode while I was shooting.

Get to the area.

Slow everything down.

Film.

Photograph.

Explore.

Then switch back into normal GPS mode for the journey home.

Nine years later, that feels very familiar.

At exactly 13:26:03 the Mavic records:

At the time I was roughly:

486 feet above take-off.

1,310 feet away.

Travelling at nearly 24 mph.

Battery at 82%.

GPS looked excellent.

But the aircraft was telling me something important.

It was windy up there.

And 500 feet above Cannock Chase is a very different atmosphere from standing on Milford Common holding a controller.

The Mavic carried on.

Of course it did.

Then the radio link begins joining the conversation.

Weak-signal warnings appear at various points during the flight.

The first is relatively close.

Then another.

But the serious ones happen during the big western excursion.

At around 1.3 miles out:

Weak signal.

Later, close to 1.4 miles:

Weak signal again.

Then the telemetry begins recording brief reconnect states.

The aircraft is right out near the furthest part of the route.

This is the point where the flight becomes properly interesting.

The Mavic is more than a mile away.

The radio connection is becoming marginal.

There is wind.

I'm hundreds of feet up.

And I'm still taking photographs.

Classic early Mavic behaviour.

Probably accompanied by the controller owner muttering:

“Come on... come on...”

The important number is 55%.

That's the battery level at maximum distance.

I hadn't flown until the battery was nearly empty.

I had left myself a substantial margin for getting back.

And from the telemetry there is another fascinating detail.

I can't find evidence that Return To Home actually flew the aircraft back.

There is no obvious Go Home sequence.

The flight states suggest I manually flew it home.

That means the return journey from nearly 1.45 miles away appears to have been flown normally.

Even after the weak-signal warnings.

Even after those reconnect events.

The Mavic turned around.

Milford was somewhere ahead.

And home started getting closer.

The return journey took about nine minutes.

The Mavic stayed high for most of it.

Around 421 feet.

Battery falling steadily.

Distance dropping.

The countryside underneath gradually becoming more familiar.

55%.

50%.

40%.

30%.

No panic.

No critical battery event.

No forced descent.

No emergency Return To Home.

Just a steady flight back towards Milford.

Then the altitude begins dropping.

332 feet.

309 feet.

Lower.

Closer.

Home.

At around 13:42 the Mavic is almost back on the ground.

Height:

3 feet.

Battery:

18%.

The aircraft announces that obstacle avoidance will be disabled for landing.

Seconds later the flight ends.

Final battery:

18%.

No crash.

No forced landing.

No motor warning.

No GPS failure.

No battery collapse.

Just a successful 4.22-mile flight ending almost exactly where it started.

The final GPS position is only around 11 metres from the first reliable GPS fix.

Not bad for 2017.

This might be the most satisfying forensic discovery of the whole flight.

By integrating the current draw recorded in the telemetry, the Mavic appears to have used approximately:

35 Wh

during the flight.

Battery percentage fell from:

100% to 18%.

That means roughly 82% of the battery's indicated capacity was consumed.

Scale 35 Wh back up to a theoretical full usable battery and you get roughly:

42.7 Wh.

The original Mavic Pro battery was rated at:

43.6 Wh.

That is ridiculously close.

In other words, this battery appears to have been behaving almost exactly as DJI designed it to.

The cell balance was excellent too.

For most of the flight the voltage difference between cells was only a handful of millivolts.

There is no obvious evidence here of a tired battery.

This was a healthy Mavic.

A very healthy Mavic.

The flight used approximately 35 Wh in around 21 minutes.

That works out at an average electrical power consumption of roughly:

98 watts.

Think about that.

A folding aircraft.

Camera.

Gimbal.

GPS.

Radio link.

Flight computer.

Four motors.

Travelling at more than 30 mph.

For about 21 minutes.

On roughly the power consumption of an old-fashioned light bulb.

Engineering is occasionally ridiculous.

At 13:28:53 the Mavic records the highest ground speed of the flight:

31.91 mph.

Altitude:

around 422 feet.

Battery:

72%.

GPS satellites:

20.

And it appears to have been flying in Cinematic Mode rather than Sport.

So this wasn't even the Mavic giving everything it had.

It was simply moving.

Looking at this flight now is fascinating because drone flying has changed enormously.

The regulations are clearer.

Airspace information is better.

Geofencing is smarter.

Aircraft know far more about where they are.

Pilots know far more about what responsible drone flying looks like.

And modern drones are astonishingly capable.

But there was something wonderfully exploratory about those first generations of serious consumer drones.

Suddenly you had a folding aircraft in a little shoulder bag that could fly kilometres away, shoot beautiful stabilised video and stay airborne for twenty minutes.

It genuinely felt like science fiction.

The original Mavic Pro was one of those pieces of technology that changed what seemed possible overnight.

And apparently I wasted absolutely no time finding out what mine could do.

The distance isn't my favourite thing.

Neither is the altitude.

Or the speed.

Or even the fact that the battery performed almost perfectly.

It's this:

28 photographs.

Because hidden inside all those numbers is the reason I was flying.

I wanted to see something.

I wanted another angle.

Another landscape.

Another view.

Another photograph that couldn't exist without putting a camera into the sky.

Nearly nine years later, that instinct is still exactly the same.

The equipment has changed.

The rules have changed.

The website exists.

There are more drones.

There are road trips.

There is Vanilla.

There is Torque.

There are thousands of photographs and miles of travel.

But buried inside a forgotten CSV file from August 2017 is the same idea that still powers NIX today.

Go somewhere.

Look around.

See what happens.

Bring something back.

That's why I'm going to keep digging through these old logs.

Because they're not spreadsheets.

They're black boxes.

Coordinates become places.

Voltage becomes battery anxiety.

Warnings become little moments of tension.

Speed becomes movement.

Camera events become photographs I may still have somewhere.

And suddenly an ordinary Sunday afternoon from almost a decade ago isn't gone at all.

It's sitting there.

13:20:57.

Milford Common.

Motors started.

GPS acquired.

Mavic airborne.

Destination:

somewhere over Cannock Chase.

21 MINUTES.

4.22 MILES.

517 FEET.

31.9 MPH.

28 PHOTOGRAPHS.

18% BATTERY REMAINING.

ONE VERY HEALTHY ORIGINAL MAVIC PRO.

And one flight I had almost completely forgotten.

Until the numbers brought it home.