Post 36: Alpha Charlie's traffic alert system proves it worth. Another desert oasis. Fertile ground for figs, citrus fruits and Al Qaeda

March 28

Agadez, Niger to Tamanrasset, southern Algeria

381 nautical miles

Flying time 3 hours 29 minutes

Alpha Charlie and one of the other Foxes 1800ft above en route
to Tamanrasset in the soup

Alpha Charlie crosses into Algeria, our last country in Africa, at precisely 09:45 UTC. There is high ground ahead. We’re in the soup again. No visibility forward at FL85 (8500 feet) and virtually none below. Ahead the ground rises eventually to over 4500 feet at Tamanrasset airport.

Maintaining separation between aircraft flying around the same level from the same place to the same destination is (literally) vital. My mate Laurie Kay has been passing anxious messages via Johannesburg control (Gilly) to keep a good lookout in this neck of the woods.

My “entry-level” Avidyne TAS600 TCAS traffic alert system really earns its keep today. Keeping a good lookout is fine when you can see outside. But in an IFR situation it’s a lifesaver. The way it works (pilots fast forward here) is by “ interrogating” other aircraft fitted with transponders within a 7nm range and which are 3500ft above or below you. These then show up as little white or black diamond on your GPS. Or a yellow dot if it’s going to bump into you within 30 seconds - assuming both aircraft maintain the same heading and level.  A female voice then says “ Traffic. Traffic. 2 o’ clock high/or low/or same altitude”. Bit shrill. I’m thinking of customising the voice to Joanna Lumley’s. No it won’t tell you if there’s a glider without a transponder or a flock of geese in your way. And yes I understand it’s no substitute for looking out of the window. But, today, it allowed Alpha Charlie to stay clear of the other Foxes until we started our slow descent into Tamanrasset and onto a downwind join for runway 20 left. I think was of some use to the formation.

Where Europe's nuclear industry has been getting most of it's
uranium from for 40 years

On the way to Tamanrasset, just before we cross the border with Niger, is a vast uranium mine at a desolate spot in the desert called Arlit. Niger produces around 8% of the world’s uranium output. Production, controlled by the French. It has fed Europe’s nuclear power needs for 40 years. Tuareg tribesmen have launched repeated attacks in the area. They want their share. The government responds with force, probably using the revenues from the mine to buy weapons. The big Cessna goes down to take a look. Adam, riding with Helmut, says the mainly open-cast mine is “ vast”.

Tamanrasset is another desert oasis. It is in the spectacular Ahaggar mountains. In some places they resemble Monument Valley in Arizona, rising majestically out of the desert. It is on the trans-Saharan trade route. Despite the fierce temperatures (in August these can reach 48 degrees celcius) citrus fruits, almonds, dates and figs grow here.

The town is also now the headquarters for the Joint Military Staff Committee co-ordinating the fight against Al Qaeda and powerful cocaine cartels in the area. It’s nice to know the cartels have a sense of history and are keeping the old trade routes alive.

 Just north of here, deep in the Sahara desert, is a US military base. Just after we land, a Hercules aircraft touches down on runway 20. It taxis just past the formation and disgorges a small flood what are probably Americans who exit quickly and discreetly in single file and disappear into the other end of the terminal building.

One other thing. Michael Palin was here on a recent trip. So we follow in the footsteps of great explorers yet again.

Two days to go to Ibiza. And then home

Post 35: Agadez, Niger.

Kano, Nigeria to Agadez, Niger

303 nautical miles

Flying time 3 hours 15 minutes

Runway 06 Agadez.

First a correction and an apology. Flying farmer wife is Annette. Not Antoinete. Unforgiveable.



Soup. Virtally nil visibility forward. Straight down from FL085 (8500 feet) we can make out the desert (most of the time) which, each year, creeps steadily south. This is not a VFR (visual) flight. But it turns out to be less bumpy than the one from Port Harcourt to Kano yesterday. That was character-forming but not much fun.

Big Helmut in the uber-Cessna goes ahead from Kano, Nigeria to Agadez, to relay back the weather. The rest of us wait in the First Class lounge at Kano airport. The field is wrapped in a fine mist of sand and haze. On the tarmac a number of big jets wait to take Muslims pilgrims on the Haj to Mecca in Saudi Arabia. It is a trip every Muslim hopes to complete at least once in a lifetime. How did they manage before the age of air travel?

We take off around midday, Universal or Zulu time in pilotspeak. The visibility at Agadez is 2000 metres. Not ideal. Actually rubbish for a VFR pilot whose minimum is 3-5 kms. But Alpha Charlie has a couple of GPS systems. Plus an HSI - a Really Useful Gizmo (RUG). It’s basically a fancy Direction Indicator with a needle on a round, 360 degree instrument. It can also “capture” beacons on the ground which emit signals to tell you where they are and, therefore, where you are.

It allows you (pilots fast forward here) to bring up your destination runway on your GPS screen. What you see is the runway centreline at least 20nm out from the field, at both ends. Fly towards the line. When you’re nearly there, turn towards the runway gently, choose a steady rate of descent on the autopilot - which, in Alpha Charlie’s case, is brilliantly reliable. Land. If you have an instrument rating you can do an ILS approach and capture the glideslope. I don’t. But I do have some good kit. And I do have my co-pilot Jo, M. Passepartout. So its cool.



Tuaregs. Masters of the desert.

Niger is a vast arid landlocked country on the edge of the Sahara desert. It is bordered by Chad, Libya, Algeria and Nigeria. It is a country of deserts and mountains, a proud and gentle nomadic people with an ingrained sense of courtesy and Muslim hospitality. But it struggles to feed its people. It is prone to severe drought. The Tuareg tribes of northern Niger who roam freely across borders – Masters of the desert- have been in open revolt against the government for years. But since uranium was discovered in the north they are being pressed by a government desperate for hard cash.

Niger is also a budding Al Qaeda playground. Last year, much to the distress of many locals, a number of westerners were kidnapped. Some were shot. Tourists have gone. The few NGOs who still operate here, such the Red Cross, live under guard and never travel out of the city without an armed escort. It’s going to get worse. The Red Cross expects at least 200,000 refugees fleeing the civil war in neighbouring Libya to cross the border into Niger, many of them with guns provided by colonel Gaddafi.

Agadez is a true desert town. The town is as wide as the runway. Dusty streets. Most buildings are made from red mud and brick. There is a lovely old mosque. Stray dogs bark. I write this in the shady courtyard of the Auberge d'Azel., its pink mud walls draped with pink bougainvillea. It is 35 degrees in the shade. Mercifully it’s a dry heat.



Street life in Agadez

The muezzin calls the faithful to prayer. He has a fine voice which drifts over the town. It is a haunting and beautiful sound. The sound of my childhood in Egypt.  A nostalgia marred by the extremists who so skilfully turn the disenchanted to violence.

But dinner in the soft, pink,sandy courtyard of the hotel makes you forget all that. The town has gone quiet, the silence carried and amplified by the dry, desert air. Just the dogs barking and howling.

Post 34: Port Harcourt, Bandit Country

Principe, Sao Tome to Port Harcourt, Nigeria

204 nautical miles

1 hour 37 minutes flying time



Niger Delta rebels. Courtesy of Der Spiegel magazine. Many
press photographers have died bringing us images like these.
I have worked with some. And I salute their courage.

David Cairns, a very close friend and one of the great British press photographers of the 60s and 70s sent me this email yesterday  He was covering the vicious Biafran civil war in Nigeria.in the mid-1960s

" There was a Saturday in 1967 when Terry Fincher ( one of the greats with whom Slowflyer covered part of the 1973 Arab-Israeli war) was at one side of Port Harcourt Airport with the Nigeria Forces and I was with the Biafran Army, on the far side of the runway. The Biafrans had recently lost the airfield which was the only lifeline into the newly declared State and they were fighting hard to retake it. We did not find out about the fall of Port Harcourt Airport until we were well down the Coast of West Africa in an ancient Elizabethan aircraft ( Triple tailed?) which was packed with 105mm mortar shells and the rest. This flew from Lisbon to Sao Tome by a mercenary crew, four of us packed in the back. We flew very low over a moonlit Delta and into the new Biafra.

The ingenious Biafrans had found a longish straight bit of road in the middle of the jungle way north of Port Harcourt and had cut the jungle either side, both  widening and strengthening the road. As we descended into what seemed like impenetrable moonlit  jungle, a series of oil drums were suddenly lit all at once and very smoky runway lights appeared below at the very last minute!

We landed safely.  And walked into the war. It's still about oil.!"

Port Harcourt is bandit country. It lies in the Niger River delta, at the heart of Nigeria’s vast oil reserves. Enormous wealth; great poverty; corruption; a booming kidnapping industry; political unrest; ethnic rivalry; frequent attacks on western oil companies; ordinary people, good people who can't understand why one of the biggest oil producers in the world can't provide for their basic needs (Answer: corruption)  struggle to survive. This is a fertile breeding ground for extremism. And more corruption. Virtually every western government strongly advises against travel to the delta. The Foreign Office says  “ If you’re there. Get out” I’m not sure what we’re doing here.

We leave the beautiful island of Principe for the 200 nautical sea crossing between a morning thunderstorm and a cyclone moving in tomorrow. Alpha Charlie flies low, 1300 feet on the QNH. We pick up a good tailwind and for much of the flight we clip along at over 130kts. On a short stretch we touch 139kts. That’s nearly 260 kilometres an hour which is not bad for an Archer. Higher up at 4,500 and 6,500 feet some of the others have a strong headwind. Alpha Charlie eats up the miles. Which is comforting because we’re over the sea virtually all the way in the stormy Inter-Tropical Convergence Zone (ITCZ). As we approach the Niger delta we see oil tankers, rigs and gas flares.

We get to Port Harcourt airspace with a good hour to spare before sunset. It turns out to be a much busier than I’d imagined. Port Harcourt Approach (a little fazed by all these small aircraft arriving at once) helpfully vectors us to the field on an IFR approach, holding off impatient commercial traffic.



M. Passepartout and Alpha Charlie at busy, busy
Port Harcourt airport. 

It takes longer to clear immigration than it takes us to fly here. But the Nigerians are friendly. By the time we leave airside it’s dark. We pass through the airport gates, in single file, and get into a minibus with a smart, armed guard from the Nigerian Police Force, toting an AK47 short-stock automatic or something that looks it. His name is Nichodemus Ibrahim.



Annette with Sgt AK47 of Nigeria's finest

 Port Harcourt is surreal. Mad Max meets the Keystone Cops. In Africa. Religion is big here. There are churches to suit every taste. On the way we pass, in turn, the Laborarory Church of The Lord, the Reign Supreme Church min-van and The Supernatural Congregation of God. Slogan: “ Experience the Supernatural”

A bit further on a huge billboard says: Infections, 100% cure guaranteed. Call Daddy Bliss. Nigeria has the third largest HIV population on the planet. The outskirts are one big, building site. Arklights illuminate huge diggers. "VIPs" preceded by cars with flashing lights head for the airport. Armed checkpoints. Roundabouts and intersections are bull rings. Kidnapping is the least of  our worries. 

Our driver, who initially drives at a suicidal speed, but is skillfully encouraged to slow down by Flying Farmer's wife, Annette, weaves through bustling back lanes as we enter the city. They are alive with the street life of Africa. He eventually swings into the aptly named Psychiatric Road before depositing us at the “Marriot Bay” hotel, a counterfeit version and certainly not the real thing.

Tomorrow we head further north to the predominantly Muslim city of Kano, northern Nigeria. The country, a former British colony, is basically divided between the Muslim north and the Christian south. It is the invention of men in suits who, in the 19th and and 20th century created this giant by drawing random lines on a map. It's a potentially powerful country whose DNA is perhaps seriously flawed by a toxic mix of ethnic and religious rivalry.

Post 33: Alpha Charlie crosses the Equator Northbound





Coming in to land at Principe, just north of the equator

March 24

Port Gentil, Gabon, to Principe, Republic of Sao Tome and Principe

165 nautical miles

Flying time: 1hr 36 minutes

The Equator..well..just

Crossing the line: Alpha Charlie crosses the Equator, heading north, at precisely 15hrs 27mins 26 secs UTC. No weird or humiliating ceremonies for the crew in accordance with ancient naval tradition . I try and take a picture of the GPS at 00 degrees 00 minutes 00 seconds. The aircraf is faster than the camera. ( Left) I give Alpha Charlie a pat. We have come a long way together.  

Fuel finally arrived at Port Gentil at lunchtime. Not a good time to fly in the tropics but the forecast was OK.  We pay our bills at Le Meridien hotel,  rush off to the airport, fill up with the precious liquid, don our life jackets, agree quickly who would do what if we ditch in the Gulf of Guinea  and take off on the 160 nautical mile sea-crossing to Principe. Fortunately the former Portuguese colony of is an hour behind Gabon. We gain an hour's flying time before sunset.

This is the scary Intertropical Convergence Zone, or ITCZ. My mate Laurie Kay ( ex chief flying instructor on 747s for South African Airways ) had given Jo and I a masterclass on the ITCZ before we left Johannesburg. “ Just stay clear of CBs, the big scary cloud which rise tens of  thousands of feet, boiling and churning, at their heart killer downdrafts which can fling you to earth in a moment. If the forecast (assuming you can get one) says there’s a line of them don’t take off. If your path is blocked ahead turn back or divert. “

The ITCZ is the region that circles the Earth, near the equator, where the trade winds of the Northern and Southern Hemispheres come together. On a satellite image the ITCZ   shows up as a deceptively benign thin belt of cloud encircling  middle earth. It works like any thunderstorm. But big time. The intense sun and warm water of the equator heats the air. As the air rises it boils and churns and expands and then cools, releasing moisture in an almost perpetual series of thunderstorms. Some grow into hurricanes. The location of the ITCZ varies over the year. Over land, it moves back and forth across the equator following the sun's zenith.. Over the oceans the seasonal cycle is more subtle.

Runway 18, Principe

Our little Strikefinder weather radar lights up like a Christmas tree when we take off from Port Gentil. But it’s all to the west and some to the east. We cleave a path through it at FL65 or 6,500ft.

We are cleared to land at Principe by Sao Tome approach. The ATC asks every passing aircraft for a phone number. It's a search and rescue thing apparently If you don't arrive according to your flight plan, they ring your mobile.

The controller asks an American pilot in a passing Pilatus PC12 " Do you have a  contact number? " No Sir". Pregnant pause. Click, whirr. " OK.Do you have a PO Box, a Post Box?" The American replies, somewhat humourlessly I thought, " We don't have PO boxes in the States" 



Daybreak at the Bom Bom hotel Principe

Principe's haunting peaks are starkly contrasted against a darkening sky, backlit by the setting sun. We land on runway 18 which rises and dips to be welcomed by schoolchildren at the end of their day. It’s a lovely, unspoilt tropical island.

Kids at Principe

 March 25: Our next stop is Nigeria. We’re hoping to go to Port  Harcourt, refuel and head north Kano to spend the night. The weather looks dodgy. The ITCZ has come to life. Conditions are IFR in Port Harcourt. And it's pouring in Principe. We might be stuck in Paradise for a day or two.

Post 32: Waiting for Avgas. Waiting for the bus. Waiting for Africa.

March 23

Port Gentil, Gabon



 

.

A congo serpent-eating eagle waiting. But not for
Avgas.

Third day without Avgas: The fuel we need to move on is still “ en route” from Cameroon or Libreville. Who knows. Reminds me of a story by the Polish foreign correspondent Riszard Kapucsinski who writes elegantly about Africa if not always reliably. But he does get the gist. In his anecdotal book Shadow of the Sun he tells how he boards a bus ( in Ghana if memory serves me). The bus is scheduled to leave at 3:00 pm. “ Will it be on time?” he asks the driver. “ Of course”.  At 4:30 the bus is still there. It finally leaves two hours late, nearly full.“I thought were leaving on time. What do you call this?” asks the Pole “ On time Sir” replies the driver “ On time means when the bus is full”. Makes sense. Have another beer.
UPDATE March 24: the Avgas has arrived in Libreville. But the man who will bring it here by boat has no..fuel. He also has no money.
More money changes hands. Who knows? Have yet another beer.

Fishwife with the catch of the day

 Gabon is a small, rich beautiful country. An ex-French colony. 1.5 million people. Relatively stable. Relatively corrupt. But some people are trying. Oil, timber, natural gas, gold, manganese, uranium, hydropower and fish.

Togolose fishermen on contract to the village

The Gabonese themselves don’t do fishing. Any more than oil-rich Gulf Arabs do manual labour. They employ Togolese ( another small country to the north: their team got shot up in Cabinda before last year's World Cup) The Togolese fishermen come here for 2-5 year stints. They fish in long pirogues with hand-made sky-blue nets close to shore. It’s good money. They seem content.

Jo and the Big Fish: 

The village boss is a large, jolly man who has an I-phone and makes a coconut-based spirit with a lethal root marinating in the bottle to give it extra kick. Would you like some he asks? " C'est pour les hommes. Si vous me comprenez?" Je vous comprends monsieur. Mais je suis trop vieux."  I pass. He laughs.

A guy we meet who works for the newly-elected President says he doesn’t understand why people complain against Gadaffi. The Gabonese governement, along with (some) other African nations has neverthless backed the attacks by the US, Britain and France on Libya. US power still holds sway. And autocrats, even benevolent, elected ones, are nervous of this unpredictable wind of change. So they hedge their bets. Our friend, whom we meet by chance, is a recent convert to Islam. But secular. Reasonable. One third of Gabon’s population is now muslim. The proportion relative to other religions is growing. I don’t pretend to understand Africa.

A beautiful, curious lizard. Answers on a postcard please

Pygmies are said to be Gabon's oiriginal inhabitants. Gabon has over 40 distinct ethnic groups.There are believed to be no more than 3000 pygmies left, scattered through its beautiful equatorial forests. The rainforests are full of rare and beautiful birds sch as the Congo Serpent eagle and the Booby.  

MY TWITCHER ( SORRY: ORNITHOLIGIST) COUSIN: I Google Gabon/trees. I find the following quote from my cousin Rhett Butler, a distinguished naturalist and a man who will go to any lengths to seek rare birds. He lives a short trip by dugout canoe ride from Gabon, on the other side of Africa, in Zimbabwe. Makes my day.

"This heavily forested nation has a tremendous amount of biological diversity and serves as an important sanctuary for many animal species. Gabon has numerous endemic species and vast tracts of pristine rainforest which make up almost 40% of the country's rainforests."

- Rhett A. Butler



Post 31: Good news. The Mooney is fixed. But an Antonov crashes trying to land a Pointe Noire shortly after Fox Formation takes off

March 21

Port Gentil, Gabon

307nm

2hours 40minutes flying time



One of the two Antonovs taking off from Pointe Noire
An hour later one of them crashes into a residential district
 coming into land

 An Antonov 12 crashes coming in to land at Pointe Noire just after we take off

Good news and appalling flying news today. A Russian-made, Russian-crewed Antonov 12 cargo plane crashes coming in to land at Pointe, Noire, Congo Brazzaville. It ploughs into the residential district of Mvou Mvou about 45 minutes after we take off on Runway 18 for a right turn heading north for Gabon. Pointe Noire is the country’s economc capital and a big port. The airspace is busy. And it’s hot. The latest death toll is 23, including crew.

As we wait to refuel we see two Antonov’s take off, dark smoke trailing their powerful turbine engines. (See picture) Bernard says they seem heavy and appear to take an awfully long time to get off the ground.   



The Mooney on 6-ton Jacks waitingto tests its undercarriage

 The Mooney is fixed: The good news is the hand-crafted, 3-inch metal rod for the Mooney’s broken undercarriage works. Eventually. Bernard carries out a test flight first thing. He takes off, retracts the wheels and does a low pass in front of the tower. They tell him the wheels seem to be up and the doors are closed. He banks and brings the Mooney into land. As he does, the new rod holding open one of the two doors which close in sequence, after the wheels are up, snaps again. He decides to fit the original rod which he’d had welded at a roadside “ garage” the night before by a  smiling Congolese with two enormous Acetylene welders.


Bernard fiddles and fixes

 Bernard borrows two 6-ton jacks, courtesy of Heli Union, a local helicopter outfit. Flying Farmer Martin and Helmut put the jacks in place. They lift the Mooney ( MTOW 3668 lbs) off the ground. If the doors close he’ll give it a go. If they don’t it’s game over. The problem is that the Mooney (usual cruising speed 175 knots) can only do 109kts with its undercarriage down. There just wouldn't be enough refuellng points to get him out of Africa.



The Mooney flying wheels down at 107 knots, two thirds
of its usual crussing speed, along the Congolese coast
 ( Picture: courtesy Martin from G-OSL)



Tense. He retracts and lowers the undercarriage on the ground three times. It works. Great relief all round. And great tam work. A real sense ofquiet and well-deserved accomplishment by the small group who worked on the problem



Flying farmer Martin jacks up the Mooney



The formation takes off in sequence for Port Gentil, just over 5o miles south of the Equator. It’s 40 degrees centigrade ( 100F) on the apron at 10:00 am.

On the way north Jo skims the coast at 200 feet over the beaches. We see a small herd of elephants, including a calf.  It seems like a good omen. We get to Port Gentil to be told that our Avgas, which is being trucked to Libreville from Cameroon, to the north, is stuck at the border. We will have to spend an extra night in Port Gentil. Helmut in the big Cessna with Kiwi Adam and Antoinette, the Flying farmer's better half - plus Al and Charly in the Bumblebee - have gone ahead to the paradisical island of Principe. The group is divided again. Not ideal. I’ve learned to take things day by day.

Post 30: The Mooney has a problem as we fly into the Heart of Darkness

Skimming the beach off Angola at 200ft. Memories of
 Darius and Heinro in Mozambique

March 20

Dateline: Hotel Elais, Boulevard Generale de Gaulle, Pointe Noire, Congo, Brazaville

Todays leg: Sumbe, Angola via Cabinda to Pointe Noire in Congo Brazaville

2 hops

395 nautical miles

3 hours 49 minutes flying time
Health warning: You will need a map to make sense of this post



A cannibalised Antonov at The Aero Club
Pointe Noire, Congo Brazaville and club aircaft

 The Mooney has undercarriage problems: Bernard’s powerful Mooney has damaged its rectractable undercarriage. Bernard notices it this morning at Sumbe, where we landed two days ago, in a gusting crosswind with vicious windsheer. All of us struggled to get our aircraft safely on the ground. Jo did well with Alpha Charlie.The Mooney has a complex system. Two doors have to close in sequence when the wheels are folded up into the wing. One door did not. The problem may have nothing to do with the tricky landing. In any case on takeoff today for the Congo, the Mooney’s wheels would not retract. Bernard tries side-slipping the aircraft to nudge the door closed. No joy. He and his co-pilot, Derek, decide to push on and try and fix it tonight.

Fortunately we are guests of the ( French) Aero Club at Pointe Noire. It’s full of pilots and “ bricoleure”, handymen.  

Bernard handcrafts a part
 for his stricken Mooney

Bernard and Uberpilot Helmut ( stripped to the waist) spend 3 hours in sauna-like heat hand-crafting a part.They will go for a test flight first thing to see if it works. 

Angola: women really don't hasve it east here



Angola: Big country; major oil producer; struggling to come to terms with 40 years of virtually uninterrupted war; an estimated 10m landmines were sown; 2 million people died; endemic corruption all the way to the top,not helped by western oil companies with huge slush funds; stunningly beautiful; over 1600km of breathtaking Atlantic coastline; fabulous gameparks sadly depleted by war and poaching; a trickle of tourists since the civil war ended in 2002

Here is an email about Angola I got yesterday from Quentin Peel, my old mucker and ex-Africa Editor of the Financial Times

“Angola I fear now very corrupt. Oil money has worked its evil. Cubans went home. Chinese arrived, but live in enclaves in neo-colonial style. I only visited once. Went south with army convoy at the time to see if the South Africans were making mischief, and got shot up by South African air force. ( Before the end of Apartheid South Africa invaded southern Angola. They saw it as their backyard) A (Communist) East German correspondent kept asking smugly: “Why are your friends shooting at you? Mike Woolridge (BBC) got hit by shrapnel in SA bombing raid. On an earlier trip, I drove from Windhoek( capital of Namibia) to the border with Angola when western contact group were trying to negotiate a ceasefire. I met a black petrol station owner who spoke German (I was driving with a foreign correspondent from Der Spiegel, the German magazine). I asked him what he thought of western peacemaking. "The trouble with the western powers was they made the wrong decision in 1941," he said. "Sorry?"  He said : "They didn't back Adolf Hitler when he invaded the Soviet Union." Africa is weird and wonderful." Thanks Q. Here' s to the FT's corps of foreign correspondents.

Overflying Luanda, Angola' capital

Cabinda and the mouth of the Congo river

This bit is complicated. Bear with me. It’s worth it. We fly from Sumbe to the Angolan oil enclave of Cabinda.This is sandwiched between two, separate nations. BOTH are called Congo.

In the south is what is euphimistically known as the Democratic Republic of the Congo ( formerly Zaire). This was explored, subdued and handed to Belgium by our very own Henry Morton Stanley of “ Dr Livingstone, I presume” fame in the 19^th century.

It is also the setting of Joseph Conrad’s poetic novel “ Heart of Darkness”,a study of corruption which flows from unlimited power. Plus ca change. Plus c'est la meme chose.

On the northern banks of the mighty Congo river ( the deepest and possibly the most powerful in the world) is Congo Brazaville ( a fomer French territory). I hope you’re still with me.

Cabinda sandwich

Last year, just before the soccer World Cup, the national team of Togo was shot up by separatist rebels after it crossed the border into Cabinda. They came in by road. I don’t know why. Two players and the coach died.Others were injured including Emannuel Adebayor, formerly Arsenal and Manchester City now with Real Madrid.

We are told we have to get clearance from Kitona military airbase in the Congo or skirt their airspace 15nm out to sea if we don't want to be invited to land by their fighers jets. It’s Sunday. Nobody’s in the tower, much as in the UK. No worries. Jo and I decide to go down to 200ft to check out the coastline. I am reminded of Darius Briers who extracted me from Mozabique with Heinro three weeks ago.We did the same on the east coast of Africa. We overfly the runway at Luanda, the Angolan capial, at 2500ft. The visibility is gin-clear. Abeam, dozens of tankers are waiting to load their precious cargo of oil. The sea just off the coast is dotted with oil platforms. Enormous flames burn off excess gas from the drilling rigs.



The Congo river from 2500ft



Before we get to Cabinda we reach the mouth of the Congo river. It is, excuse the cliche, an awesome sight. I have to say to myself several times” You are flying abeam the Congo river”

Post 29: Fernandez our forward spotter into Angola; some thoughts on autopilots and other gizmos

March 17, 2011

Mokuti, Namibia, to Lubango in Angola via Ondangwa
Two hops
325 nautical miles
3hrs 40 minutes flying time



A twisting spout of moist air and heavy rain over the great plains
 onthe way to Angola

 We meet Fernandez, by chance, at Ondangwa, the last stop in Namibia before we enter Angolan airspace. We have stopped to refuel and complete exit formalities out of the country.  Paperwork. Fernandez flies a twin-engined Cessna 206, ferrying VIPs and cargo around Namibia and Angola and further north. He comes over as reassuringly competent and trustworthy. He offers to act as a forward spotter for us into the high ground over the Angolan border and onto to Lubango using his state-of-the-art weather radar. TAFs and METARs ( local weather forecasts tailored to the needs of pilots) are, to say the least, a luxury in most of Africa.

March 18
Lubango to Sumbe on the Angolan coast
Just over 200nm
Around 2hrs 20minutes flying time

A low hours pilot (and two veterans) muse about autopilots and suchlike in little planes



A Curtis B-2 flies, pilotless, over Sacramento,Ca
in 1930 controlled by Sperry gyroscopes



Autopilots are for big planes. And for small ones ..with lazy pilots. I exaggerate to make a point. But that’s the essence of the debate in the General Aviation community about these wondrous bits of kit. The same goes for GPS systems. The GA community is broadly divided between two extremes and a middle: those who think GPS systems, autopilots, Mode S transponders and - heaven help us- Traffic Avoidance Systems- are a waste of time and money. They can be a positive menace because they seduce you into fiddling with them, distracting you from keeping a good lookout and flying the plane. The other extreme can’t get enough of them. The middle ground understands the principles of sound airmanship but thinks, hey, this is the 21^st century, the skies are getting busier, a pilot’s workload is high enough. So don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. No prizes for guessing which group I belong to.

An autopilot revolves around a gyroscope. In simple terms, it keep your aircraft doing what you want it to do by controlling its flight surfaces: ailerons, rudder, elevator and tirm, to maintain its axes. They were invented by Lawrence Sperry, an American. In 1914 Sperry flew his Curtis C-2 over the villages of Bezons and Argenteuil, near Paris in an aircraft safety competion. As he approached the crowd, the band struck up 'The Star Spangled Banner.' He passed the judges stand with both his arms held high. On his final pass his French engineer climbed onto one wing and Sperry on the other. The pilot's seat was empty. The aircraft flew serenely, straight an level, “hands off”. The judges were speechelss. The crowd went wild. " Formidable!"

So far Alpha Charlie has carried us nearly 12,000 nautical miles from England. The average leg has been in the low 300nms, maybe 320 nautical miles. That’s around three hours flying, depending on whether the wind is on the nose or on the tail. On some days we’ve flown for over 7 hours.

Alpha Chalie has a 2-axis S-Tec autopilot. It’s an ultra-reliable piece of kit. It will capture and hold a heading, an altitude, climb and descend on command and follow a flight plan entered into the stalwart Garmin 430 GPS system. I reckon the autopilot has done 85 per cent of the flying so far. Pretty much faultlessly. It will fly through turbulence. If things get too bumpy it’s wise to disengage and fly by hand. But on long legs – and on busy approaches when you have a lot to do (frequencies, joining the circuit, looking out)- they make flying easier and more enjoyable. They allow you take pictures without worrying about who’s in control. And, erm, manage other essential inflight needs.



No hands: Alpha Charlie at 8,500 feet amsl heading for the coast

at Sumbe, Angola on autopilot



Over supper in Lubango, our first stop in Angola, Bernard, who owns the hand-built Mooney (a sort of TVR of the sky), respected aviation journalist and hugely experienced pilot said: “ It’s simple. My AP reduces my workload. “ He made some interesting points about autopilots in big planes.

“ Nearly all airliners are flown on AP most of the time. Take-off is manual but at 300 feet the pilot presses a button. Most modern airliners can also land (and often do) in pretty much nil visibility on AP. You just punch in the destination airport ICAO code into the flight management system. When it gets there the autopilot captures the glideslope on the Instrument Lsnding System (ILS) and lands the plane. It almost always does a better job than its human counterpart. In some aircraft it’s mandatory for the AP to land the plane every so often. But the public isn’t ready for the idea that their flight in a 747 or an Airbus, and their safety, is in the hands of a robot. So airlines don't bang on about them."

My mate Laurie Kay, who used to be chief flying instructor on 747s for South African Airways, texts the following: " Many of my students on the 747 used to ask why I put the autopilot on at 400 feet after take-off. I told them because the AP wasn't certified to be engaged any earlier! If you've got - use it." Yes captain.

Under strict instructions from home, on pain of
excommunication, here  is a picture of Alpha Charlie
at Sumba, Angola. I blame Jo, my co-pilot who sent it to
Victoria in the first place.

Post 28: The Etosha Pan, weaving in and out trouble; Alpha Charlie gets a mud bath

March 16

Swakopmund to Mokuti

269 nautical miles

2hrs 50mins flying time



From desert to savannah and high ground


Fox formation is, for the first time, back together for the northbound leg. Minus David and Angela in the Cessna twin, sadly missed, who are back in th UK after their nosewheel collapse in the Sudan and William in the Whisk. We leave the coast and head inland. The landscape changes from desert to savannah.We head in loose formation towards the Etosha Pan, a 75-mile long dry lake, at the heart of one of the great game reserves of Africa.



A "benign" CB. Just don't it for granted

 We climb initially to 1,500 feet on the QNH ( a sorr of average above mean sea level) and are then are cleared to fly " low level" at FL55 ( 5,500 feet) by Walvis Bay. The terrain rises gently but unmistakeably. So does the temperature. So do the clouds. As we approach Etosha it becomes murkier. In the distance we see a Cumilonimbus (CB) cloud forming in a great tower. These can sometimes rise to 60,000 feet. This one is relatively benign. It shows no electrical activity on Alpha Charlie's Strikefinder storm detection gizmo. We nevertheless respectfully give it a wide birth. My good friend Laurie Kay gave Jo and I a masterclass in navigating tropical storms before we left Johannseburg.



Fine cloud chimneys

 Closer to Mokuti the Etosha Pan stretches to the left. The visibility clears but chimneys or curtains of fine, low cloud stretch from the solid base above to the gound below at 10-20 mile intervals. We weave in and out of them and occasionally through them to give Alpha Charlie a shower. Derek, in the Mooney, and I later debate what to call them. Answers on a postcard please. We land on the mostly dirt strip of runway 26, a bit short. Alpha Charlie gets a (mud) bath. She goes to bed in a bit of a huff. Her last words: " I am an aeroplane. Not a hippo."

The Etosha pan..filling after heavy rainfall from Angola

An Etosha elephant: a terrestrial CB

Tomorrow we go Angola, a beautiful country ravaged by civil war where over 10m landmines were planted with a budding ecotourism industry.

Post 27: Sand, dunes, a diamond rush,a ghost town and a mercy flight

Captain R Jones, the skipper who started the diamond rush in
South West Africa

Monday March 14

This may sound odd but I don’t much like travelling by air. I love flying. But going by plane means you can’t really take in the difference between one place and another. My advice is: get there, hire a car or take a bus. Talk to people. It never disappoints because you never know what to expect. After nearly 11000 nautical miles- even at Alpha Charlie’s sedate pace- places are beginning to blur in my mind: Libya, Khartoum, Quelimane, Kenya, South Africa.

But every so often you come to a place, unannounced and unscheduled that really sticks in the mind.  Luderitz, the diamond mining ghost town in southern Namibia, is such a place. If I were Pedro Almodovar this is where I’d set my next movie.

Bartolemeu Diaz, the Prtuguese seaferer, passed through this barren place in 1488. But the real story begins in 1897 when  passing skipper, Captain R Jones, arrived in Capetown, to the south, clutching a parcel of diamonds which he said he found in South West Africa, then a German Colonial Territory. His find had sparked a diamond rush. A railway was built. The magnificent town of Luderitz rose up out of the desert, whence some has now returned. Ernest Oppenheimer established the Consolidated Diamond Company of South West Africa, today De Beers. Fortunes were made. Fortunes were lost. Competition was brutal. Employment ( mainly of blacks) bordered on slavery. Mining companies were masters of the universe.

LUDERITZ AIRFIELD

We fly from Uppington, in South Africa, to clear customs at Keetmanshoop, just inside Namibia. I love Namibia: deep canyons, mountainous red sand dunes, savannah; the San bushmen of the Kalahari desert who are perhaps the oldest surviving (just) culture in the world; huge cattle farms battling it out with private game reserves for breathing space and scarce resources; the wonderful Etosha game park and the Skeleton Coast ( so called because of the bleached remains of stranded whales and skipwrecked vessels). Big country with a tiny population.

Alpha Charlie rides the up and don drafts on autopilot to Luderitiz over the mountains like small boat on a gentle rolling sea. At Luderitz Jo brings her in to land on runway 22 with a 22kt wind gusting 28kts from 170 degrees in a mini sandstorm. Not easy but safe. Alpha Charlie’s recommended crosswind limit is 17 knots. We are followed in by a Cessna twin, a mercy flight from Capetown to Windhoek which has come to pick up someone waiting in ambulance, light flashing, with an anxious relative.

THE OBELIX GUEST HOUSE

The owner, a charming lady who, it turns out is “mute” ( she cannot hear and is very difficult to understand) sits in the courtyard. I ask her for an adaptor plug. She asks her son, an angelic 8 maybe 9 year-old with a shock of blonde hair doing wheelies on his mountain bike, to “translate”. I tell him I’ve flown from England and can I have a plug please? Non sequitir. He pauses briefly,nods, gets the plug, then gets back on his bike. He is suitably unimpressed.  

PATRICK THE DIVER  

In town, studded with magnificent colonial German and Dutch architecture but deserted and soulless, we meet Jonathan,a diver. He works the small mining vessels which go to sea, south of Luderitz, for 21 days at a time. They are virtually all subcontracted to Namdeb Diamond Corporation half-owned by (yep) De Beers. They prospect mainly to the south. He dives to 30 metres in a dry suit ( the Atlantic waters at that depth are near freezing) and, using a sort of hoover connected to the boat above, sucks up diamond-rich gravel. On deck it is sifted in jigs, under armed guard. Its very big business. In 2009 nearly half of the 1.36 million carats farmed by Namdeb came from undersea mining off Namibia. I tell him I admire his pluck.

Tuesday  March 15

Bringing water the now deserrted mining town of Kolmanskuppe
in the diamond rush

Before taking off for Swakopmund we visit the ghost town of Kolmanskuppe. The deserted hospital, built in the very early 1900s had the first X-ray machine in Africa, a school, a dance hall and a casino. It was finally abandoned in 1956.  The visitors centre today does a nice cream tea.



The Good Times in Luderitz



Kolmanskuppe: A ghost town but with style



  



The indispensable Jo, henceforth Monsieur Passepartout,
parking Alpha Charlie at FYSM (Swakopmund)
( Ref M. Passepartout see Jules Vernes: Around the world in 80 days).



SWAKOPMUND
The man runway is unserviceable. I bring her in to land, after a go-around, on a vaguely recognisable, gravel runway. Just before I turn base a skydiver appears out of nowhere and lends with impeccable, Tutonic precision on the apron. This place feels like South Africa. Most of the clients at the ( very nice) Hansa hotel are Afrikaans or German wanting a slice of colonial nostalgia.

Tomorrow a game park. Then Angola and towards the Equator and the InterTropical Convergence zone.