As the summer (?) of 2002 saw many flying hours whiled away at the bar, someone raised the topic of an overseas trip. We listened with envy to those who had completed marathon journeys to the UK and France in the past and decided that we too must experience the thrill of an extended flight. July became August and the rains persisted – right through to the end of the summer holidays. A return to work on 18th of August brought better weather – too late to bury granny for the 6th time. At least we would be ready for 2003.
Sligo Light Aviation club
began the touring season with a visit to North Weald in May and once again,
thoughts of an overseas odyssey began to return. Visits to new airfields formed
part of the preparation. The Fly-Ins at Birr and Trim provided the required
grass strip experience and a day of intensive flying around Connemara and the
Aran Islands improved the short field skills.
Scotland was the target. Initial interest suggested that the Cub and the 172 would join G-WIFE in convoy. Holidays were booked for the last week of August, maps of the North of England and Scotland ordered and UK R/T and Air Law books rechecked. Maps arrived in early August along with the UK AIM. Showery weather in early August dimmed the enthusiasm of some of the original subscribers, whilst work and family commitments lead to further withdrawals. By mid August, it looked like only the Cub would be joining G-WIFE.
Lines were drawn on maps – we favoured Campbelltown or Islay as our first ports of call in Scotland. Long-range weather reports were studiously pored over for days and Sunday August 24th was nominated as D-day for the Scottish invasion. With 3 days to go, our landing party was decimated – our “army” of volunteers consisting of the Brennans plus Grace and Adrian Corcoran. Friday evening saw some serious planning. Lines on maps were marked with waypoints, distances were measured (three times!), Alternates identified and all possible frequencies noted and checked and finally transferred to a detailed Navigation Log. A quick check with Adrian to verify my calculations revealed that Special Branch in the UK needed to be notified of our arrival. Grace to the rescue with an e-mailed copy of a General Aviation Report duly filled in and faxed off to Strathclyde Police. This invasion was to be clearly heralded – rumbled by the “Terrorism Act 2000” – cunning Celts those Scots.
Saturday 23rd dawned, weather checked and final “to do” list prepared when son Mark expressed a preference for the Squash Camp being run at Sligo Tennis Club. Nothing like a 20nm stretch of cold water to concentrate the mind!!. Head for the airport in a state of despair, Marks ears ringing to a now familiar tune. “Don't ever again ask me to bring you flying”. At least Caroline was looking forward to going. Fill in flight plan for ATC for a 10.30 am Sunday departure, leaving the POB as 3 – Mark would surely change his mind by the time I had reassured him that the plane didn’t know when it was over water.
With the plane fuelled and checked, (including life jackets, ELT, dinghy and spare batteries for headset), I departed for home wondering what I could possibly have forgotten. “I can’t leave him at home on his own” announced Caroline. {Response censored}.
Sunday 24th. After a fitful sleep, I finally rise at 07.30 to check the weather again. Forms 214 and 215 are printed off from the UK AIS along with any NOTAMS for our route. Wind details are entered in the Nav. Log and waypoint times calculated. A call from Adrian lets me know that Grace has decided to withdraw – leaving just the 2 of us to face the Scots. Tent, sleeping bags and flight kit flung into the boot, family goodbyes completed, before I go and pick up Adrian. Grace has a change of heart and decides to join us. Airport at 10.00, few clouds in the sky and ready for departure at 10.30.
At last the gods were smiling on us. “Goodbye and safe trip” from Patricia in Sligo Tower. “Call Scottish Information on 124.275 once you leave the zone and if you cannot get them try Shannon on 127.50”. Climb to 3000 feet and 12 minutes later we are west abeam Donegal Town. No contact with Scottish and all attempts to raise Shannon prove fruitless. The large gaps between cloud formations seem smaller as we approach Letterkenny but we can see Derry in the distance. North of Derry we identify a dense mist hanging over the Foyle, so we descend to check the cloud ceiling. As we descend towards 1500ft. visibility is poor and we opt to climb back to 3000ft. – and forgo our plan to fly up along the banks of the river. From above we can clearly see the mountain peaks to the west and right up to the top of Malin head. Just north of Derry, we establish contact with Scottish Information – “G-FE”, we have your details, No known traffic to affect you, SQUAWK 7000”. It’s comforting to know there is someone out there we can talk to.
We coast out at Inishowen Head from where we can clearly identify the mountains of Islay in the distance. With 10 miles to run, we contact Islay Information who tells us that visibility is down to 300ft at the field. Another visitor approaching from Aldergrove is experiencing some difficulty remaining VFR – we can see another dense mist over to the east, which is causing his problem. Two minutes later he calls to request a diversion to Prestwick. Uh oh !. Descending through 2000ft we again we contact Islay with 5 miles to run - conditions at the field are still poor with 300ft visibility. Just then we spot the beach and continue a descent towards the field – the 1900ft runway emerges from the mist and we call “downwind three-zero”. “Land at your discretion”. One hour after leaving Sligo, we land and taxi to the aircraft park at Islay. A quick visit to the tower to book in where the controller reveals a strange weather phenomenon – visibility on the approach from the sea (south) is much better than his view from the tower. Whilst we chatted with him, the mist had scattered and other aircraft began arriving for the afternoon’s airshow.
Islay – 11.30. Booking in was our first experience of the local sense of humour. Just as we wondered how many more steps lay ahead, a sign on the wall asked “Out of puff yet?” The top of the next flight encouraged us to continue – “Not much further”. Now I understand why a thorough medical is necessary.
After booking in, our next port of call was Strathclyde Police, parked airside in a mobile police unit, to fill in disembarkation cards. The formalities out of the way, we were welcomed by the Airport Firemen to their quarters and treated to tea and sandwiches. Andrew, the airport manager, dropped by to welcome us to the island and to make sure we were being looked after. Believe me, all this attention and kindness can be unnerving – but it was to be the first of many experiences of genuine hospitality and appreciation of our attendance at their airshow.
The show itself was opened by the local Laird – Mr McTaggart (I know, its not his proper title but I was concentrating on the local oysters at that time). Next up for the first of many performances, was the local Islay pipe band. Now call me a prude, but its just not right having grown men wandering around in woolly socks and tartan skirts and blowing wind!
The Constellation – sister to the Iolar – was on hand to provide short trips around the island for a queue of visitors whilst various pilots put on a show for the rest of the crowd. A Fouke-Wolfe replica (75%) in German markings competed for space in the skies along with the RAF Tornado – hardly a fair contest as the noise from the VW powered machine was hardly a match for the roar of the RAF guy. A YAK-52 represented the eastern bloc - where was the Sonerai when we needed it - doing his thing around the airfield. Needless to say, G-WIFE also generated its fair share of interest in the airpark, but my own personal favourite was a 9 seater Pilatus powered by a single Pratt and Whitney which has flown all around the world. Yes, it’s a private plane piloted by an Islay resident with a PPL/IR. It has been over the Atlantic many times as well as South Africa and the Far East. The only downside of the entire day was Graces failure to win one of the many bottles of whisky in the monster raffle. And the nearest distillery is 4 miles away in Port Ellen – Bowmore is 5 miles from the field.
OBAN As 17.00 approached, we planned the next leg of our journey to Oban. Booking out consists of a visit to the tower, passing on information on destination, POB and fuel endurance. “Call for a radio check and taxi and enjoy the trip”. We take off from Islay at 17.20 and route towards Bowmore and over the middle of the island. “Coasting out” – we called as we reached the channel between Islay and Jura and changed to Scottish Information. Our trip to Oban was less than direct. Jura offers spectacular scenery and we decided to route up along the east coast of the island at around 1500ft. The Mull of Kintyre was visible thru the mist on our right as we passed over Jura airfield and on over the island of Scarba. With 10m to run to Oban, we called with a position report and discovered that they had moved the runways. “19 in use and call field in sight”. Hold on, we must be on the wrong frequency. Our comes the book of UK airfields for a quick check on frequencies and runway information. Oban/North Connell – the frequency is correct but the runway is designated 02/20. Five minutes later, we call position and field in sight – no reply, but we continue to join right base. (No deadside joins as microlights operate to the east of the field). Oban has hills at both ends – approx 500ft at 20 end on 3 miles final with a caravan park less than a 500m from the threshold and 1000ft to the north (02) approx. 2 miles from the threshold. A steep descent is called for. We call final for 19 – “land 19 at your discretion and the kettle is on”. What a welcome. “OK, We’ll hold short” says another pilot waiting to depart. “No need to go all polite” responds the A/G radio, “just stay where you are”. Approaching slightly fast and high, the landing was less than perfect (OK, two small bounces and a lot of float), but hardly deserved the slagging from the onlookers. “We’ll hold until the bouncer vacates” was the welcome from the lady pilot holding impatiently. “Welcome to the Australian – park east side and we will push you back”. 24/8/03 at 18.15 - It was our first encounter with Paul Keegan – NEVER dream of going to Scotland without visiting this man in Oban. Within minutes, we had decided to use this airfield as our base for further tours of Scotland. True to his word, coffee was on the table within minutes and the next step discussed. “Where are ye staying?” Despite having a tent in the 182, we were all looking forward to a comfortable bed after a long day. In Islay, we had encountered another touring crew who recommended an excellent B&B within a mile of Oban Airfield. A quick call to Ruth and Lloyd established that they had rooms available for two nights. “We will come and collect you” says Ruth. What service. We were on our way to a B&B with a most stunning view over the bay within minutes. Not only that, I could see the windsock at the field from my bedroom!!.
We decided to sample the village
of Oban 5 miles away that evening – with lady luck smiling on us, it was
hardly surprising that a taxi driver lives next door!. The first of many
Scotches was called for – washed down by a pint of 80 shillings. Down at Oban
docks watching the island ferries and fishermen come and go, Grace spots a fish
restaurant. I still salivate as I recall the meal in McLeods
Fish Bar. By 10.30 we decide on a quick one at the Harbour Bar. Actually,
the next 8 drinks were all quick ones as we chatted to the friendly clientele in
this quaint Inn from another time. The bell tolled at around 1.00am and we were
met at the exit by our taxi. No early night for the invaders tonight.
Monday 25th – Breakfast at 08.00 as the bell from the previous night still tolled in the brain. A 10-minute walk to the airfield in brilliant sunshine and a mug of strong coffee soon cleared the cobwebs. Chatting to Paul, we wondered about the runway designators. “Its actually 193” says Paul – “it was changed about 3 years ago, but the local council never got around to repainting the numbers. Last week, they were doing some maintenance work at the 20 end and painted on 19. However, it rained before they could finish the other end.” Which explains why 02 (to be 01) has no numbers painted yet.
Maps were examined and various routes discussed with Paul whilst Keith refuelled WIFE. “Wander up towards Fort William, past the Caledonian Canal and up over Loch Ness. Ye can go into Inverness, or back up through one of the valleys to Plockton”. Sounded good and by 12.40 we were airborne. “Call Scottish Information early and tell them where you are going – radio coverage is not the best on most of your route” advised Paul. We contacted Scottish as we climbed over Lismore Island and gave them an ETA for Plockton. We also requested the status of Restricted Area R610A, which we proposed to enter. “Becoming active at 14.00 Zulu”.
Heading NE from the
island and up through Loch Linnhe, the whole scene was surreal. Ben
Nevis loomed on our right, 2500ft above us. Caravan parks surrounded the
town of Fort William, a popular tourist resort and the meeting point for Loch
Eil, Loch Linnhe and Loch Lochy. Soon we are overhead the Caledonian Canal with Fort
Augustus – a town at the southern end of Loch Ness - fast approaching. We
proceed on to Loch Ness. Occasional hill climbers dotted the landscape – but
no sign of the Loch Ness monster. With Inverness on the nose, we climbed and
rerouted back down the lake to enter one of the many valleys leading to the
western shores. Entering D106A, we could
immediately appreciate why the RAF chose it for low flying exercises. Passing
overhead Loch Cluanie, it appeared that our route ahead was obstructed by one of
the Five Sisters – would we climb or was
there an escape left or right. “What’s the height of that next one Adrian?
“. Gaining 500ft up to 2000, we could see that the valley veered off to the
right to face another peak. We dropped once more to 1500ft for a closer look –
“if ye’re going to ditch her, ye’re not going to put her on the top of a
mountain. No need to be flying up there over the top”. Paul’s words echoed
in the brain – now fully recovered and focused.
We continue our zigzag pattern around the peaks for 25nm until we emerge over
Loch Duich. It was only after emerging over the lake that we realised it was
a full 10 minutes since anyone had spoken. I don’t suppose it was a time for
“Oohs” and “Aahs” and “Just look at that”.
“Plockton should be just to the North,” says Adrian. Only there’s another little 1500ft mountain in the way. Once again Paul’s briefing proved invaluable. “Be careful approaching Plockton” he warned. You come in high and there is an upslope on the runway. Don’t know why, but quite a few have been caught landing short”. Here’s my chance to show off my dive bombing technique – with full flaps, the 182 drops steeply and we round out over the numbers for a greaser. A visiting heli engineer offers us a lift to the local train station – it has a quaint restaurant called “Off the Rails” and if we hurry we can just make lunch. Another new experience – sitting at tables on the platform tucking into a spud stuffed with Brie and Bacon as the local trains come and go. An hour later, we walk to 2 miles to Plockton village. Be warned, it’s down hill from the airfield but remember that the return journey is less than a pleasant stroll after an hour spent wandering around the village. Don’t let that put you off – it is well worth the effort, but allow plenty of time to take in the atmosphere of the place.
We made it back to the field, climbed over the gate and went to record our presence at the fuelling point. The door to the fuel station is left open with full instructions for activating the bowser and entering details in “the book”. No fuel was required, so we filled in our details – 1 landing – and expect to receive a bill in the post in about a month or so.
Glenforsa, approx. 50 miles away is our next destination. Again, we remember Pauls advice. “If you have the choice, take off down the hill”. The wind is negligible, 10 degrees of flaps and full power sees us lifting off and turning out over the sea with plenty to spare. And the 50 miles became nearer 100 – don’t let anyone tell you that they fly straight lines in scenery like this.
By now Adrian is the acknowledged map expert. “Lets have a look at Skye”. We head SW and over the airfield at Skye and around some of its many peaks. Scottish Information must be in a tizzy – “west abeam Mallaig at 1200ft (a well known reporting point) with Rum on our right. Routing to Glenforsa via Eigg and Muck”. Just as well we called before we got to Arisaig – with the way we pronounced some of the other names along the way, we could end up really offending our hosts.
Glenforsa is a non-radio grass strip at the northern end of the Island of Mull. “No known traffic” says Scottish Information as we approach the field to check the windsock. First missed approach of the tour – the wind on 02 is on the tail and we climb to come back on 20. The threshold appears a little pot-marked and we opt to land long. Taxi to where 3 other aircraft are parked – two of them are 182s – one a Rheims and the other wearing a 3-blade prop. Naturally, curiosity wins out and each is examined before David Stewart, the airfield manager approaches. Landing fees paid (£10), he invites us to fly around the island and “do as many touch and goes as you like”. One fee covers all. However, Grace has spotted quaint log cabins in the nearby trees and is off to investigate. The local hotel is also a timber structure of Swedish origin and the bar beckons. “Coffee for the driver please” as we relax in the bar looking out on the airfield with the Sound of Mull and the Scottish peaks beyond. With heaven so near, hell must be miles away.
Reluctantly, we must return to Oban. Actually, the hotel was fully booked and couldn’t even accommodate us for dinner. Next day was our last and we had to clear our return with the police 24 hours in advance. Prior to departing, we learned that the 20 threshold was indeed “a bit rough”. Rabbits were rampant – claiming squatters’ rights at the end of the runway. Carefully backtracking, we decided to leave Glenforsa to the rabbits for the present, but a return visit for an overnight stay is a must. Look out bunnies!.
Once again Paul Keegan
welcomed us back to Oban and dropped us near the hotel – just off the 01
(blank) threshold. Departure details are filled in and Grace checks their fax
number with the Strathclyde police. “We have your details” they reply, “no
need to send them in again, just jump in your aircraft when you are ready and go
home”. We appreciate their help and head for the bar “for one”. As we are
within a mile of our B & B, we make an exception and have a second. “How
about checking out the restaurant near our B & B”. Off we head to
Ferryman’s of Connel – next door to the Oyster Inn. Yes, you guessed it –
we went in the wrong door and decided to have a pre-dinner “appetiser”. Be
warned, this Inn has a vast selection of Single Malts, I think they said 60.
Cannot comment on many of them, but the first 20 are spot on. Some 6 hours after
leaving the field, we completed the one-mile journey to our B & B.
Tuesday 25th – Breakfast, I think. Lift to airfield by Lloyd, God Bless him. Brain not working. Spend next 3 hours filling in flight plan while Keith again looks after WIFEs needs. Coffee begins to work about noon and we get adventurous again. A short local trip is called for and we delay our departure for Sligo to 16.30. Complete the flight logs for home, fill in flight plan and decide to head back north. By 12.30 we are in the air heading for Fort William again. Instead of continuing on, we turn west to have again experience the incredible valley flying. From Fort William we turn left up Loch Eil and report Arisaig to Scottish Information. Hunger pangs prompt a quick return to Plockton – “Off the Rails” seems a most appropriate place for us today. Another zigzag trip in a southerly direction leads us through more spectacular mountain peaks before we return to Oban at 15.30. A quick call to Sligo for local weather (not raining) and ETA 17.50 local, file a Flight Plan, more coffee and say our goodbyes to Paul and Keith.
As we load up, we are approached by a couple of other pilots who have flown in from Islay. “How’s the weather to the south” we ask. “Perfect all the way” they reply. “Were you in Islay on Sunday?.” Intrigued by the question, I tried to remember whom we might have upset before admitting our attendance. “We saw a picture of WIFE in the tower and they told us you had been in”. Phew ! At 16.40 we take off for Sligo.
Our route takes us along the west coast of Jura, onto Islay where we coast out at Portnahaven. From our 3000ft perch, we can see the Irish coast in the distance. As we leave Islay, silence once again descends on the cockpit – the batteries in my headset give up. A quick change, but the silence remains. No, not nerves when flying over water, just each of us replaying the highlights of the past few days in our heads as the reality of home approaches. We have a modest tail wind and WIFE is cruising at 150+ knots. After 10 minutes over water Inishowen Head is almost below when weather conditions require a descent to 2000ft. Call Scottish with position and request descent. They give clearance and inform us that Shannon have our details. “Contact Shannon 124.7” Another step towards home.
We continue to call Shannon at regular intervals and establish contact approaching Letterkenny - ETA for Sligo is confirmed as 17.52 local. Letterkenny airfield is now below – two aircraft on the ground and we pick up a call from Sligo based EI-BBC to Sligo Information. Another step nearer. BBC calls Shannon for a trip to Kilkenny via Abbeyshrule and we comment how mundane such a worn out route now appears. Nothing wrong with the trip, it’s just that we all realise that exceptional experience of the last few days has left us wanting more from our flying trips. Donegal Town on the right with Ballyshannon fast approaching.
Sligo is in sight. Ask to change from Shannon to Sligo and call with a position report. “Call at Grange” responds Sligo. Almost there – 17.40 with 12 minutes to run. Hear RE217 – Aer Arran commercial - call as we approach the boundary at Cliffoney and realise that we will be asked to hold. Sligo call for position and we decide to hold around Inish Murray / Mullaghmore. 10 minutes later, we were advised to proceed to Sligo and touched down (3 times !) at Sligo. Quickly unload, straight to the Strand pub and gently bring the adventure to an end.
