Post 37: Out of Africa. Ibiza. But hold that thought while I wind back two legs to southern Algeria

April 1
Ibiza
4531nm from Johannesburg ( give or take)
  800nm to go to Cranfield, EGTC, UK

Ibiza is drenched in a crystalline, turquoise blue sky with a sea to match. Yachts. Tapas. Castillian Spanish drifts over a gentle April sea-breaze.  
But, just for a few moments, I must forget it's there, just beyond my balcony on the Marina. In my mind's eye I have to go back to Tamanrasset in the scorching desert of southern Algeria. That's where the last blog ended. The blog has been a sort of lifeline, a parellel journey. We move so often, it reminds me where I am, it anchors me. If I leave it behind, I stay behind.


March 29
Tamanrasset (DAAT)- In Salah (DAUE) - Al Golea (DAUI)
2 legs
310nm and 199nm
Total flying time: 5 hours and 10 minutes




An old Antonov 12 at Tamanrasset being slowly
devoured by the howling wind and sand

 Tamanrasset and In Salah, our refuelling point en route to Al Golea, are enveloped in high winds and swirling sand. This is above my pay grade. Jo flies Alpha Charlie. He does an impressive job coaxing her through virtually nil visibility and devouring up and down drafts to FL85 ( 8500ft) on both ocasions. Out of In Salah we crawl to FL90 (9000ft). The lady at Algiers radar tells us this is an "incorrect" flight level. We need to be at either FL95 or FL85. She is, of course, right. But she's not sitting where we're sitting being flung around by the wind coming off the brooding Hoggar massif. FL95 does not look good, even possible. We're not "squawking" on the transponder (not sending out a signal) so we're not on actually on her radar. We tell a porky and settle for somewhere in between. Exhausted Jo hands Alpha Charlie to me and I hand her on to the blessed autopilot.

Here the desert rules. A creeping sand dune is advancing on In Salah and, literally, cuts the town in half. It moves at one metre every five years. As the leading edge of the dune moves on, buildings on its trailing edge are uncovered. These are then reclaimed by their owners. If you get it right you'd make a fortune buying buried buildings forward and waiting till they appear again.

March 30
Al Golea (DAUI)- Bejaia (DAAE)- Algiers (DAAG)
2 legs ( one divert)
Flying time: 4hours 10 minutes

MEN OF THE MATCH: Richard and Zinadene Zidane: If you had to divert because the weather closes in and there's a line of 7500ft rocks in the way I recommend Bejaia ( DAAE) just south of Algiers on the lush Mediterranean coast. " Vaut le Detour" as the Michelin guide would say.


Zinadin Zidane local hero
to friendly pilots
at Bejaia

 It has three things going for it. The Tower is friendly- provided you don't go in there throwing your weight around. No names no pack drill. It is surrounded by beautiful green hills with pink-tiled roofs not unlike the Cote d'Azur. And, just above the airport perched high on the mountain is Augemone, the home village of footballing deity, Zinadene Zidane: ex-French soccer captain; 1998 World Cup winner; 2000 European Championships; 3-times FIFA Player of the Year; in short, footballing genius and ace head-butter.

We take off from Al Golea. The early weather report for Algiers says CAVOK. By the time we'd get to the mountains which form part of the great Atlas range and block the way to the coast the weather is looking decidedly dodgy. The highest ground - lit up firetruck red on my Garmin 695 GPS- is 7500ft and shrouded in brooding, dark freezing cloud with rain, sleet and snow. Sam is flying with me today and is at the controls. He is in beagle mode, keen to find a way through the valleys. Alpha Charlie, though small, is fun to fly, steady and responsive. I let him weave around for a while trying to find a hole. Behind us Charly and Alistair in FP-SCB ( the Bumblebee or as some unkindly call it the Lawnmower) are doing the same. But fuel is running low. After a mildly robust exchange Sam and I decide to divert to Bejaia, 80nm south of Algiers. Mercifully there is a break in the weather and the Tower is manned.



Home of the God:Alpha Charlie at Boujaiea. Up there on the ridge
is Zinadene Zidane's home village.

 We land and I go up to the tower. A helpful but worried controller is concerned a) because we had not filed Bejaia as alternate airfield and b) because the other aircraft have left Al Golea but have not been heard of. After about 15 minutes Richard's voice (Golf Mike Whisky) crackles over the radio saying he's at 9500 feet which puts him slap in the middle of the weather. He is less than 13nm from the coast. But he is struggling in the little Grumman Traveller and his plucky wife Wendy is having a tough time. Richard gets my vote for Man of the Match and Man of the Series. Not for his shy, retiring manner mind you. But for his grit. And Wendy who is a rock, quietly supportive. In due course he brings Mike Whisky down on a long final over the sea.



Richard and Wendy. Man and Woman of the series with
G-DIMW. True Yorkshire grit. And Richard wasn't bad either.


We are now short of fuel. There is plenty of goodwill at Bejaia but no Avgas. Sam rushes off to find Mogas for The Bumblebee, which would then drain off an equivelant amount of Avgas from its elegant little tanks, for us. I suspect the Bumblebee would run vin rouge and, most probably, fequently does. Then we hear an aircraft overhead. It's a light aeroplane. Alistair quickly gets out his handheld radio, and establishes contact on the Fox chat frequency. It's Helmut in the big Cessna. He has Avgas in the back. Plus a decidely shaken Jo and Adam. Helmut, who will fly through a brick wall, has cheerfully flown through a CB with " only" 5mm of ice on his wings accompanied by the odd salvo of lightning. Ten minutes later he lands. (Given half a chance he will tell you how lands in a foot of water on an Icelandic river bed). We have Avgas. I'm not making this up. I swear. Bernard and Derek in the Mooney follow. Rejoicing. Fox teamwork at its foxy best.

Boujaia's finest. Firm but friendly by Helmut's
Fly Through a Brick Wall Cessna

Word gets round. Local pilots Yassin and Said come and talk to us. The dapper Mustapha Merabet, who turns out to be the President of the Algerian Ultra Light Aicraft Association, is drafted in by the overwhelmed airport authority to take down our aicraft document details. The spirit of Zinadene Zidane looks down on us from his village.

Eventually we take off for Algiers, showered with good wishes. Algiers is a big, grown up airport. 2.5 million passengers a year. As we land on Runway 27 (just ahead of and at right angles to Runway 23 which takes big jets at the same time) we spot a forlorn Flying farmer Martin and his wife Annette. F-GOSL , the Robin, has had a puncture. On the main taxiway.



Punctured but not flat: Annette and Martin in the peace of the
St. George Hotel garden, Algiers

 But the St George Hotel downtown is lovely. The walls leading to its flowering terrace are plastered with black and white photographs of the rich and famous who've stayed here.