Coventry to Cascais (Lisbon) and return eventually! A view from the left and right hand seat of “HF”.

Well, as with the Prague trip, the telephone lines between Keith Miles, Almat HQ and myself were red hot on the days preceding Easter Sunday the day of departure for our latest flying adventure; a flight to Lisbon, Portugal landing at Cascais. My flying companions for this trip deserve some recognition:

In order of horsepower:

Outbound in BOMS: Glynn n Pam & Paul Allington

Outbound in OJ: Peter Greenrod & Saleem Mughal

Return journey in BOMS: Alan Arrowsmith & Steve Shaw

Return journey in OJ: Peter Greenrod & Adrian Faulkner

Outbound & return in HF: Keith Miles & Yours truly! (Paul Bond)

BOMS and OJ (these are the names of the aircraft) set off at 12:50 destination Caen (original choice Channel Isles but as so often – no visibility) whilst Keith and I still were still studying the Pilotfriend web site for a glimmer of hope that Le Touquet (our first choice destination) would be devoid of weather. On the basis of what we had seen forecasted, a revised destination was made for Calais and the HF crew set off for Baginton.

On our arrival, it was obvious that Bill had valeted HF and done a great job; positively gleaming! I could see through the Perspex the inside had received similar treatment but when I opened the door the smell of the cleaning fluid(s) was so strong that my head seemed to fly Red Bull style around Hanger 3 for a full minute!

With pre flight check completed, paperwork and flight plan filed, Keith and I climbed aboard after completing the obstacle course of wiring and controls, fired up and after the ATC (Air Traffic Control) pleasantries, cleared to line up on the 23-runway threshold. When the plane is heavy, runway behind you is most certainly un-desirable. I opened the throttle with care and as the speed increased I became aware of a screw protruding from the top of the cowling slowly rising from its normal position, just behind the prop. By now HF was getting on her toes and I thought of the damage this screw might do should it come out. An aborted take off was the order of the day and I asked for a hold on our flight plan.

Various Almat members on the ground must have heard the radio transmissions from HF and came out to see what had caused our earlier than anticipated return. The offending screw had now dropped into its normal position as soon as the engine was shut down. This was re-tightened with the kind assistance of Chris with pliers and my fuel checker. Once again, with flight plan re-opened we took to the skies and despite some rather ominous looking precipitation around us eventually LFAC (Calais-Dunkirk) came into view.

Imagine for the moment a Calais ATC with an English accent like Peter Sellers as Inspector Clousou.
HF – “Calais this is Almat 63 on frequency”.
ATC – “Statioun calling, repete call sign”
HF – “Almat 63 – alpha, lima, mike, alpha, tango six tree.”
ATC – “Ok er, er, er Almet er, I ave your ditails, report final, number wen for 24 right and”.
HF – “Wilco”
ATC – “Almet er er, go around, go around, there is a “duk” on the runway!”

I now look at Keith, he at me as we both exclaimed “a duk?” 

HF – “Calais please repeat obstruction on runway?”
ATC – “Almet er er, go around, go around NOW!”
Whilst no “duk” was visible on the runway (it had probably flown off we thought) I complied with the requested action.

HF – “Downwind for 24.”
ATC – “Almet er er, ees clear to lend number wen.”
This was duly completed (hey we walked away from it) and we parked up for the night.

Keith and I ventured into the “terminal” (when we finally found the entrance) where a fancy dress party was in full swing. Some strange looking characters with pigtail wigs were all around whilst the lady Steward did her best to find us some accommodation and a taxi. One of the group of revellers decided to practice his English on Keith with the opening line, “Ey engliiish I know u call us French persons Froggies.” I could see English/French relations were about to be tested but with Keith handling negotiations all would be well thought I. At this point, a person dressed quite soberly by comparison to the others entered the room. As Keith carried on with a discussion with the “Froggie” I enquired of the new arrival if he had ATC connections. This was met by “Oui” and I enquired as to the “Duk’s” whereabouts. Messieur ATC advise: - “Eet ren urf!” “Ran off!”  exclaimed I, “did it not fly away?” Messieur ATC looked surprised and with much mirth advised “Duks cannut floe, ha ha, famous engliiish humour.” Now it was our turn to look bemused now that Keith had restored Anglo-French relations with great tact and joined this debate. Messieur ATC went on “Eet ren awey barking at sumwen.” The realisation suddenly sunk in! He meant a DOG, which I suppose, standing on
the runway would be a good idea to avoid, so fair play to Messieur Calais ATC. 

Meanwhile, BOMS and OJ were well on their way and prior to departure from Caen eventually managed to file a flight plan using an automated system often found at foreign airfields that supposedly “speed” up the process. All this time poor Pete with the bladder pressure warning light fully illuminated having to hold on until Caen Security arrived but would then not allow the two crews airside without showing pilot licences!

BOMs and OJ headed off to Bordeaux and Keith and I were on our way first to Nantes from Calais prior to meeting the others at Bordeaux. After flying over some lovely French countryside we headed into Nantes (a large commercial airport) feeling all was well with the world and so far this trip was on a high. However, if I can pass on a word of advice, if you ever have the misfortune to fly into Nantes in a light aircraft you will require a high degree of patience. After landing we were directed to our parking place and fuel was requested. After what seemed like an age a “follow me” car turned up and the driver explained there would be a further delay as the fueller was filling a 747! Eventually a fuel truck was seen heading our way and on arriving at HF the driver just sat in the cab and just looked at us. Only when I approached with a body language of Oi get you’re a*** out of there and fill us up, did he feel the time was right to provide us with the pleasure of his company! On completion of this task he was then most interested in my credit card and then left us without a word. Keith and I then had the dubious task of a very long walk to the terminal in an attempt to pay landing fees, file a flight plan and get some met for the next leg to Bordeaux.

As we walked for what seemed miles we were rewarded with the sight of a 747-400 (suitably replenished with tons of fuel rather than litres) being pushed away from the gate as the engines (Rolls Royce of course) spooled up. We were just a few feet away behind the pusher and this 747 looked far larger than normal simply as we were so close. By a combination of much gesticulation and luck we finally were allowed entry to the terminal via a security point. After attempts to explain our requirements fell on deaf ears, Keith and I were ushered into the passenger terminal and then advised we needed the “Information desk”! After more explanations to an English speaker it was apparent Nantes prefer to send invoices. We filed what was assumed to be a home-grown flight plan and was completely unable to register the fact we needed some met details. I swear if I had been advised to look outside Keith would have had to restrain me! Returning to the security point the previous jobsworth recognised us but decided that without our pilot licences we could not be allowed airside, from whence we had came!! Eventually two of the local Gendarmerie finest were summoned (which made me wonder if we would be enjoying Nantes hospitality for a while) and requested to escort Keith and I on the long walk to our aircraft and inspect the aforesaid documents. Seriously precipitated off we were now hugely delayed!

Our next destination was Bordeaux to join with the aviators of BOMS and OJ! Our initial aiming point was the town of La Roche Sur Yon and thereafter to keep the coastline of France in our 3o’clock. Bordeaux soon loomed large as it is yet another international airport with a lot of airliner traffic so we felt privileged to be offered a straight in approach. On stepping out of HF and turning on my mobile it soon advised I had a message from perhaps you can guess whom. “Cold beers waiting for you but getting warm. Where are you?” With a returned suggestion from us to get some more in on our arrival, Keith and I we trudged off with all our belongings to find a reporting point wondering why we had not been “handled” so to speak! (I later found that the “flight plan” information filed at Nantes had not been passed on so handling had no knowledge of our arrival. Thanks guys!).

Whilst on our way to the terminal we passed a Portakabin and unbeknown to us there was a Gendarme inside. On spotting Keith and myself he came rushing outside and “invited” us inside. When someone with a holstered gun invites you anywhere you don’t argue! He then commenced going through all our belongings. Once satisfied we were not from the Coventry branch of Al Qeada, we were then dismissed with still no idea how we could escape the confines of airside. But then, as if a mirage, at the base of a curiously designed control tower there was an all too familiar pilots greeting, a large black letter “C” on a yellow background. Keith and I ventured through the doors close by the sign to be met by a rather alarmed young lady in an office demanding to know how we had arrived there. Rules of the airfield were shown to us and after much nurturing of more Anglo-French relations the young lady took pity on us and showed us via the staff exit to the taxi rank.

A rather prolonged journey ensued in the taxi and I am confident the driver would be better employed as a tour guide. We even misguidedly gave a tip! On the pavement outside the hotel with our bags, a well recognised voice came from the balcony of a room above “Where the have you two been?” I kept smiling through gritted teeth still with thoughts of Nantes! Glynn came down and was only able to register us as with his party after we waited an age in the lobby whilst an infuriating woman had a million things to sort out with the only receptionist available.

The hotel in Bordeaux was very clean and the part of the town that Keith and I saw was historic but interesting. The crews of Almat’s 21 and 67 had arrived earlier than us and had apparently already walked their legs off sightseeing the town! As we gazed at the menus outside some of Bordeaux’s finest eateries, Saleem looked shocked at the contents of the fish tank’s outside each restaurant; Lobster, Crab and Octopus where very much in evidence. It occurred to me that throughout this trip everywhere south of Dover, fish must be the staple food of Johnny Foreigner. Restaurant owners assured us vehemently that their fish was so fresh and much better than those on offer next door. For all the assurances I think we had fish soup more often than not, followed by some form of red meat dish.

Next morning feeling suitably refreshed but without a full English in sight, we set off for Bordeaux airport. We were to fly from here to Valladolid after negotiating the Pyrenees at about 7000 ft. However, the Bordeaux met man Little Britain style said “The computer says noooo!” (Little France this time perhaps), “the cloud base is too low”. So the assembled crews drew some lines on maps, filed for Biarritz and soon we were heading off, cleared to the VRP “SW” to avoid a military area in use by Cazaux airbase. We were handed onto them and we were advised there was traffic in our vicinity. Very soon four Mirage fast jets came streaking across right to left in front of us, down low and going like the clappers. It certainly concentrated the mind of those in the left hand seat on holding requested altitudes.

On handover to Biarritz Keith and I overheard a transmission to OJ to proceed to a particular reporting point. Being the last of the trio of Almat’s often gave us advance warning of what the instructions to ourselves would be. Some confusion arose when HF was directed differently however, we realised our comrades had headed for the coast so we followed. As we flew along again in spectacular scenery (long deserted beaches) we again heard Almat 21 advising Biarritz we were proceeding to San Sebastian instead. OJ duly confirmed we had overheard the message, which was confirmed. On approaching San Sebastian, BOMS made an attempt to over fly the Pyrenees but with the altitude required to clear the huge peaks which occasionally could be seen but mainly enveloped in cloud, a divert into San Sebastian was now necessary. The approach was indeed one for the camera and I am confident “David Bailey”-Miles filmed it for posterity.

Imagine if you will, the Pyrenees in front of you making a go around interesting, another large hill to the right and a marina full of very expensive looking, privately owned, sea going craft of all sizes, resting on blue water, devoid of a single ripple. The runway must have been lengthened at some time and resembled an aircraft carrier flight deck (except this one was not in motion) jutting out into the sea. Whilst really wishing we could just enjoy the view unfolding beneath us, concentration had to be restored. Now established on the runway centre line, 20-degree flap selected, power set and trimmed nicely we flew over the white boats (small ships) for a landing. What a sight this made as we made sure to over fly the end of the runway with sufficient height.

We parked up and as we looked in the general direction of the next leg, it was obvious that a Pyrenees crossing was out of the question. As we had now arrived in Spain, “Bonjour” was replaced by “Olla” when we entered a bar gasping with thirst for pints of Coke and packets of crisps. A map was spread out over a table and it was decided we needed to make a decision to stay and hope the weather improved or move on via a different route. So with flying over the Pyrenees no longer an option we all opted to follow the coast, which unfortunately caused some hasty line drawing and re-planning. Regrettably our intended landings at Valladolid and Montargil-Lago had to be abandoned along with overnight deposits. That’s flying sometimes!

Un-deterred we went outside to the aircraft and with time ever moving on we then encountered our refueller person. These guys are either quick and efficient or just plain slow. This guy was a jobs worth and a slug! Towing a browser behind a 4x4 he first visited OJ connected the earth cable filled the tanks and then took the invoice payer to his office in the 4x4 at the other end of the field to make the payment! Then he came out with the browser to HF, connected the earth cable, filled the tanks and then I was “treated” to a ride in the 4 x 4 to the office to make a payment with the credit card I had been relieved of! It took an age for all of this to be completed and by the time he got around to BOMS he had seriously delayed us. Whilst this was going on we were at least treated to the regular sight of Dash 8’s showing off their short field-landing prowess. It’s amazing how quickly you can bleed speed off with full power reverse pitch props!

The take off was back the way we had come in and once again we enjoyed the view of the marina, only turning on track when the mountain now to our left allowed. Now flying along the coast, we were being bathed in sunlight whilst to our left huge mountains were shrouded in cloud but the view was breathtaking. As we flew further still along the northern Spanish coast we noted the weather and the vis steadily improving. At Villaframil we were able to turn due southwest after climbing to 5000ft, (the highest I had ever been in a SEP) direct to Santiago. The mountaintops still looked very close to our intended track but our trusty Jeppesen maps were telling us we were OK. All along the way we commented on the number of wind turbines visible all around the mountains.

On landing at Santiago the intention was to press on to Vigo however, with delays at San Sebastian and being forced to fly the scenic route around the coast we were not going to get there before official dark. So in need of a hotel, vacancies were swiftly located. With all suitably refreshed we went out on the town for a spot of sightseeing. There were many restaurants around all still with fresher fish than their nearest competitor. We eventually all agreed on a particular eaterie and we were waited on with great panache. Drinks, starters, mains and “pudding” cost 200Euro!  Good value. 

Next leg was to our final destination at Cascais slightly to the west of Lisbon.

Our departure from Santiago took us initially overland and we crossed into Portuguese airspace at Velenca Do Minho heading for the Porto VOR close to the coast. As HF crossed the border defined by an estuary we contacted Lisboa information and were comforted to hear Almat 21 and 67 were ahead. The next radio transmission to Almat 21 however, was of a surprise as they were requested to climb to 5000ft and then this was requested of Almat 67 also. We were aware that it was quite likely we would be required to do the same. Sure enough the call came and Keith trimmed the aircraft in a gentle climb to 5000ft giving great consideration to engine cooling. As we were on our way up I was thinking, pah, already been at this altitude but when Almat 21 and 67 were requested to climb to Flight level 80 suddenly we had approximately another 3000ft to go! As our same request came Keith dialled up the standard flight level pressure setting on the altimeter (1013mb) and ever skyward we went. On reaching FL80 the view was stunning and the most amazing sight as commercial airliners flew beneath us, Keith cheekily reporting an aircraft in our 11 o’clock as another airliner climbed through our level as though it did not exist. But there was no time to loose in setting the engine up at this altitude. Fortunately in HF, engine speeds at different heights are shown on a table so for flight level 80, 2600rpm (from memory) was set and Keith set about setting the mixture. This was undertaken with a certain measure of care however, had we gone too lean and the engine stopped there was plenty of height to do something about it!

The visibility was absolutely excellent all around even when we encountered 2 octa's of cloud BELOW us and much filming was undertaken to record this for later viewing. Even a photograph of the altimeter for Bill Jevons to prove his aircraft had flown at FL80!
Then we became aware of a disturbing rattling sound, the kind you never want to hear in an aircraft. All the instruments suggested no concerns and checking the flying surfaces they appeared OK. It was only checking around the cockpit that the source of the annoyance was located. The buckles on the now discarded lifejackets required for our English Channel crossing were in rattling in perfect harmonisation with the engine and were quickly silenced with some relief!

Almat 21,67 and 63 were gradually given descents (jinking around the gaps in the cloud was great) to rejoin the coast. After successfully negotiating the Sintra airbase zone we were in contact with Cascais who asked us to call the field in sight. As we flew around the headland close to Estoril (home of the Portuguese F1 GP) we strained for our first glimpse of the field. Expecting to see a relatively long strip of dark tarmac, we could not locate the field but eventually the runway in use was located, appearing in a much lighter colour which blended in with the surroundings. We were not alone in having difficulty in finding the field as Pete found. They suddenly realised they were directly overhead when they first saw it!

Keith then had the task of landing whilst gusting winds at 23kts made the job doubly difficult to keep HF on course. Whilst the other members of the troupe watched us approach (having themselves encountering the same gusts) I made sure hands, knees and feet were well away from the controls! A few heart stopping moments ensued but I had the utmost faith in my flying companions ability. The landing finally accomplished we taxied in for a final stop and once again heaved our belongings from the rear seat (how we wished we had a luggage door similar to the Warrior) and the handling agent attended to our needs. We set off for the pre-arranged hotel and on arriving in the room we reflected on an amazing flight and our final destination had been achieved despite the weather.

HF had really been flying beautifully throughout this journey so far especially after Keith decided to adjust the rudder trim thus enabling us to just rest aching feet on the rudder pedals. When HF was trimmed to perfection, this little old lady would fly along at 90mph indicated with the nose ever so slightly dipping and rising without any need for input on the controls. She had also visited Flight Level 80! Something worthy of note was that we all felt the controllers in France, Spain and Portugal that were contacted (and there were many) we found to be extremely helpful. Not that this is not the case in the UK but the first contact was always replied to with first a local greeting. Great assistance and information was provided whilst in their area and any handover always ended with the local equivalent of a goodbye. Rather than the usual “Free call…… and squawk 7000!

On arrival at the Hotel we awaited Steve Shaw and Adrian Faulkner who had flown in to Lisbon courtesy of Easyjet and caught the train to Cascais to join us. Steve was returning in BOMS and Adrian was returning in OJ taking Saleem’s place. Saleem now was regretting his decision to return on the day of our departure for the return journey in a B737.

Now the funny thing about flying is that it makes you hungry and very thirsty so you can perhaps imagine what was high on our agenda. After suitably refreshing showers and partaking of a beer(s) (must have been Carlsberg as it reached those spots that others cannot) we set off nearer to Lisbon using the local train with all funding tickets with any available “shrapnel” – (Euro coins). After partaking of the local culinary skills we all “rolled” back to the hotel returning on foot and joined Alan in a beer at the hotel. Well when I say “a” beer, you know what I mean!

On the day of our arrival in Cascais it was very hot and sunny but the next morning the weather was grim. Despite this, it was good not to have to awake with the first thought was the weather OK. Despite the precipitation descending from the heavens we breakfasted and set off full of enthusiasm on the train into Lisbon. As we wondered around this historic city none of us thought there was any comparison to our previous visit to Prague in terms of the appearance. OK the weather was far from good, which does not help, but we pressed on regardless hoping to discover hitherto unseen delights. After quite some shoe leather had been eroded, a beer was much in our sights and the chairs outside a bar beckoned our backsides. Glynn requested “large” beers all round with a few exceptions and perhaps the beers that eventually arrived would be best described a “grand”! The glasses and therefore the beer contained therein was enormous and quite how the waiter carried so many of them in his hands is also amazing. Upper arm strength or what! Apart from being plagued by person’s unknown selling designer sunglasses for a few Euros (really?) and being pestered by general beggars, we eventually managed to down this copious amount of liquid amongst much mirth and general banter with passers by. One lady was overheard to remark to her companion “Look at their drinks! They must be English.” Charming!

We walked and then walked some more pausing only to take photographs and eventually returned to our hotel whereupon the cake shop around the corner caught our interest. If you like cake and pastries this was the place for you! We were glad to have arrived when we did because the entire shop was soon filled with those equally hoping to diminish the number of tasty delights on view. More culinary delights were consumed that evening and after sampling more beer (better call alcoholics anonymous I think) on returning to the hotel we headed for bed for a much-needed rest prior to setting off again on the return journey.

On arrival at Cascais airport the weather details were provided and the situation was not overly promising and another return along the coast appeared to be in order. So we set off heading north courtesy of a good wind direction heading initially for the town of Sintra just North of Estoril and headed off as suspected along the coast, destination Vigo. As we neared Monte Real airbase we gave them a call but as it was a Portuguese public holiday no one was home. (If you ever want to start a war attack at the weekend!) As their airspace temporarily no longer existed we pressed on towards Fiueira Da Foz town. The weather had deteriorated at Vigo so we all diverted into Porto and an overnight stay. The weather had by now deteriorated here also and serious precipitation was falling from the sky. However, our spirits were not dampened until we toured the “delights” of Porto town. The further we went the worse it appeared and Pam aptly summed it up with “This place reminds me of Bosnia!” and everyone agreed. An evening meal was required so we found a Restaurant quite close to our Hotel, which was quite fortunate as the rain was still pouring down. After leaving the restaurant some of the  “youngsters” in our group wanted to boogie on down at a local nightclub. However, seriously suspicious of the intents of those within when they got there a hasty retreat was required and all returned to hotel soaked to the skin as we all had been during our entire stay. 

With finer weather the next day we all arrived at the airport in high spirits but once again handling delays caused us serious difficulties. Firstly we had to wait for Security to escort us through the airport, wait for a bus to take us to our aircraft, request twice for fuel and just as we were to depart Handling drove over to tell us our valuable flight plans had not been filed and we needed to wait a while longer before leaving. Finally, Keith took us aloft once
more and we headed inland towards Santiago flying over some high mountains at an average of 5000 ft. Once over the coast at Villaframil in northern Spain we descended due to low cloud. Flying along the coast once more the weather began to deteriorate with low cloud spreading out from the land out over the sea. At first this presented no real difficulties as we were able to maintain a good view of the ground however, as we began to near our destination at Asturias airfield the cloud thickened and Keith found it necessary to descend to first 1500 ft and then lower to 1000ft. As we rounded the headland at Reigoabajo we were being requested to call the field in sight but we in the cockpit were seriously looking for a diversionary airfield as the cloud base lowered and so did we to approximately 500ft. Out over the sea at this height concentrates the mind of the pilot in command whilst all I could do was offer assurances that we were heading in the right direction and the airfield was close by. This whilst casting glances from the GPS to the instruments and outside the cockpit, in case Keith needed to be alerted to something. The sea looked awfully close! Finally after some extremely good aviating the required airfield came into view and we gladly accepted a straight in approach!

By now the weather was clearing as once more HF ventured off into the air leaving Asturias in our propeller wake. Its strange how the weather never looks quite the same as it does when viewed from the ground. Slightly dubious as to the visibility it transpired to be a gorgeously sunny day and very flyable all the way along the coast to Biarritz passing Santander and San Sebastian airports along the way. All really appreciated some much needed sunshine! It is stated that the shortest distance between two points is in a straight line and that is certainly true when flying. Things can work against you when navigating VOR’s, NDB’s or routing around high ground or bad weather. For once however, this was partly true for our next stop at Nantes.

Following the coast all along the western side of France and only taking up a heading change overhead La Rochelle airport. Above La Rochelle the weather was excellent and it was so clear Keith and I could easily see, “OJ” above us overtake with their extra speed and the former WW2 U Boat pens resplendent in their grey bombproof concrete in the harbour. As Nantes came into view they asked us to join downwind but to keep our speed up, as a fast jet behind us was to perform a flypast. Certainly as we taxied in to our parking spot by the side of BOMS and OJ we heard something in full afterburner blast through! Never did see what it was.

Keith and I had already experienced the “joy” of the Nantes airport staff and once again they were on form when this time we all arrived! These people have their unwillingness to assist down to a fine art! Needless to say eventually we were able to satisfy the Nantes doubters that the time had arrived for us to leave (and never to return). On going on frequency at the time of our intended departure there was a mix up in connection with flight plans, then Almat 67 became 61. Peter attempted a correction several times to no avail and ended up assuming the mantle of Almat 61 with all the controllers from Nantes to Caen our next dropping in point.

Referring to my earlier statement concerning how weather appears from the ground and in the air this time the reverse was true. On climb out from Nantes it soon became clear that this VFR flight was almost IMC especially as the sun was in our eyes. The visibility quoted by Nantes was within VFR limits and therefore quite legal but I would think this was the worst “soup” I had ever flown in. We were ably assisted by the South Rennes and Brest
information services along the way and later by the lady in the Tower at Caen. She requested HF to join downwind left hand on the SE runway however a request was made from HF to join overhead, thus enabling us to prepare for a landing as Caen had suddenly come into view from the ever-darkening daylight. As a French Lady controller was obviously unable to understand my best West Bromwegion accent, we were simply advised to do what we wished! So we did skirting around the airfield at low altitude keeping it in sight.

The booking in staff were all very friendly and we headed off for board and lodgings in the town. Along the way in the taxi there were many memorials to those Canadians who gave their lives whilst attempting to advance further into this part of France after D-day. Very poignant reminders of what the allies went through giving me a resolve to go visit this area again.

Next morning we awoke to murk at low cloud at Caen making our collective return to Blighty in triumph in doubt. There was an excellent met office on the field and as always in flying there was a faint hope of an improvement at Caen however over the Channel it was dire. Several larger aircraft were seen arriving and departing Caen one of which was a BAe 125 (G-VIPI), which was conducting pilot training exercises we eventually learned. On talking to them about the joys of mini airline flying VIP’s around the world it became obvious to them that we were stranded here for the time being.  Pam had a need to be home soon and a very helpful crew offered to take Pam to Farnborough where their aircraft was based. Whist this was under consideration the crew of BOMS decided is was good enough to go providing the PIC held an IMC rating and Pam and the guys departed the shores of France destination Coventry. None of the other crews had the benefit of an IMC on their licences and therefore we were still stranded. Much time was expended and eventually the weather locally did improve but a check of the situation over the Channel in the met office showed a window of opportunity was arriving for a flight to EGHH (Bournemouth).

Everyone got themselves gathered together and off we all departed soon coasting out from the French coast on a heading direct to “HH”. As we crossed the channel the sea was visible through a thin veil of cloud below but overhearing a call from OJ ahead it appeared that our window had arrived in the area. We pressed on after receipt of a Special VFR clearance from the Guys at Bournemouth and soon we passed the coast and were now looking for the airfield. The much referred to window had indeed arrived but with it came more soup and at this point the GPS came into its own. Relying on its accuracy the airfield was shown as off to our right so with faith we set off in that direction. The radar controller was seemingly having a panic attack seeing HF drawing ever nearer whilst requesting us to call “Field in sight” but we were unable to do so until almost overhead. On advising that we were finally visual we were passed to the Tower frequency. At this point we were requested to orbit and as we did so the field disappeared once more. I had noted however the roofline of a warehouse below pointed back to the field so with a quick advice to Keith we used it as a direction and fortunately the field could be seen again.

After a taxi to the handling agent it was obvious to attempt to return to Coventry would be madness. We sought advice from Glynn who had arrived at Coventry albeit in poor conditions and the situation was confirmed.

At this time Adrian was able to depart locally by bus and train whilst Keith, Pete, Alan and myself were considering our options on how best to get back to Coventry. Pete advised he could ask his wife to collect us and with great gratitude from all, Maxine arrived in the car and we were driven back to base by Pete and were able to return home. Unfortunately this meant that HF and OJ had to be abandoned but within 2 days Keith and Bill were able
to return to Bournemouth with Glynn in BOMS to fly them home.

A trip and a half? I would say so and I certainly learned a little more about flying and seen things of an aerial nature that could never be encountered here.

Well next years trip is already decided I gather. No not the Channel Isles again however, islands are involved. Fancy a trip to the Balearic Islands?

I know from past experience on trips to many other far away destinations; you will enjoy!

See you at Almat soon.
Paul Bond

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