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Leg 23 - Toteggie Airstrip (NTGJ) to Papeepe, Tahiti (FAAA): parts 1 and 2.


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I wasn't sure about my this particular assignment. It had involved a red-eye to Auckland, via Singapore, where the airport facilities had been shut down to the minimal night-time vending machines, if you could locate them. From there, the island-hopping Air Tahiti Nui ATR 42-500 had finally deposited me on this narrow strip of land called Totegegie, part of the Gambier group of islands. This is where I was to pick up my 'rental', a beat up DHC Beaver painted a hideous shade of candy floss pink:

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I' d been given a couple of stick-on sheets promoting the company's support of a totally unknown charity, who were flying a valuable artifact around the world, raising money - for what, I wasn't sure, but then I was just the pilot... This 'Baton' would be handed to me prior to taking it on to Papeete, where I would, in turn, give to some other unsuspecting victim. "Ours is not to reason why", I thought. Papeete, on the main island of Tahiti, was some 900 miles from Totegegie, which meant several refuelling stops along the way. I'd planned these stops at Mururoa, Hao, and Anaa - between 220 and 270 miles each section, and reasonably within the range of the Beaver - hopefully...

The next scheduled arrival wasn't for several days, so I was surprised to see the airport staff getting off the ferry from Gambier and opening up the main building. When the fire tender started its engine, I looked up to see a T7 approaching from the south east. "Must be an emergency", I thought, and dug out my trusty GoPro. Well, with enviable panache, the BA's captain brought the B777 to a halt with at least a quarter of the runway remaining, and turned onto the apron. Leaving the cheering staff, I returned to my rig to carry on refuelling, when, after a while, a tap on my shoulder revealed a very unlikely pair: a short, immaculately dressed Japanese man accompanied by a tall, dark and statuesque young lady, whose clothes were clearly influenced by some Nordic cult. "Here's the Baton", she announced, passing me a brown parcel, "and here's your passenger - drop him off at Mururoa. And where can I get a coffee?" After thanking her for the Baton and discovering that the Japanese gentleman was part of the UN nuclear inspectorate, I said that the nearest refreshments were on the main island and that the ferry would be returning there at around 6 pm. "Right, I'll organise the refuelling and see you then." Until that moment, I hadn't realised she was the T7's pilot - this was going to be an interesting evening, I thought.

I woke the following morning to the sound of an engine spooling up - my dinner companion was an early riser.

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Clearly, she was in a hurry to get away as, despite the absence of any airport staff, she swung the beast onto the runway and taxied to the turning point. With something less than the minimum runway length to play with, the engines whined to maximum thrust, off came the brakes and up and away she went. A truly magnificent departure...

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My passenger had also,woken up with the noise and was ready to board when I returned from watching the T7's take off.

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Taking my time over the final checks, there'd be a lot of sea between here and Mururoa, the GA mechanic I'd made friends with gave me some helpful words of advice: "Don't rely on your navigation instruments too much, but keep a close eye on the compass, that's the trick with island hopping. Good Luck!"

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With full tanks and only 1 passenger, we were well under MTOW for the type, and I was pretty confident as we quietly drifted away from the quay before opening the throttle.

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The sun caught us as we lifted off from the lagoon, bathing the interior with a soft pink glow. I wondered about the implications of a red sky in the morning, but as I wasn't a shepherd, I left the thought unanswered.

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Mururoa was where the French had carried out nuclear tests until local opposition and world opinion had forced them to stop in the mid 90's.

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With this in mind, we kept a westerly course until I finally saw the outline of the island ahead. No nav aids for Mururoa - not a place you'd want to go to, anyway...

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My passenger was concerned about the risks to the islanders, who had been allowed to return to their homes after testing ended. Radiation levels were below accepted levels, but the longer term effects were largely unknown. What once had been an earthly paradise was now a potential disaster waiting to happen as the island's lagoon bed had been destabilised by underground nuclear blasts and should it collapse, the resulting tsunami could overwhelm the low lying atolls of the region.

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The airfield, part of the original military installation, was easy to spot. Next to it, on the lagoon, was the quay where I'd be dropping off the passenger and refuelling.

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The Mururoa lagoon seemed serenely calm, despite what lurked beneath its azure surface, and touch down was a breeze...

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As my Japanese passenger took his leave, he wished me 'Good Luck' for the rest of the flight. The fuel arrived in drums and I set about pumping. We'd managed to use nearly 90% of the fuel getting here and as the next section was slightly longer, at 250 miles, I decided to fill another 10 Jerry-cans and loaded them into the cabin - just to be on the safe side.

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The Beaver needed a notch of flap to clear the lagoon – a couple of bumps saw us climbing...

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… and a slow turn to the north west towards Hao, the next refuel point. We would be out of range of the HAO VOR for a while, so we kept to 306 degrees magnetic:

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Sure enough, the needle kicked and the earphones buzzed with the reassuring beeps of the HAO VOR:

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Following the HAO VOR was more relaxing, and, after another hour or so, the Hao atoll was reached, with the airfield's approach lights glinting conveniently in the distance:

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Like Mururoa, Hao's airport had a quay alongside it – possibly the same engineering outfit built that, too? Early on, it was called Harp Island, because of its shape. Apart from a fast developing tourism resort, Hao is best known for pearl cultivation as its lagoon is an ideal spot.

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As we approached the quay, I realised the refuelling request hadn't been confirmed, but I could grab a coffee while that was being sorted:

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Soon the drums were rolling, after a large amount of Euro's had been handed over as they declined the local currency (CFP Franc). I had some help pumping in the AVGAS – after another 'tip' – the jerry-cans hadn't been touched, so they remained in the cabin as this section was the longest at over 260 miles:

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No passengers to subsidise the next section to Anaa atoll, so it was off again over the lagoon – and with smoother take off, this time:

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The HAO VOR gave out after just 100 miles, so it was compass watching 'til we picked up the AA NDB.

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It's said that the brilliant green of Anaa's lagoon is reflected on the under-side of the clouds around it, making a convenient signpost for mariners seeking the island. I must say that I missed this, maybe the sun was too high, or perhaps I was getting blasé about island hopping. No matter, Anaa is a glorious place – as I was to discover:

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During refuelling – more Euro's! - a young lady called – yes, you guessed – Anna, asked if I was going anywhere near Papeete? As I'd be glad of the company, and she only had a moderate amount of luggage (Ha!), we agreed a small fee.

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Anna installed herself in the rear and fell asleep before I'd even started the engine. So much for company, I thought. Again, no nav aid for the TAF VOR at Papeete at this range, so we turned to a heading of 255 degrees and hoped for the best:

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An unknown island, to me at least, appeared ahead of us and I scoured the map for identification. My guess was Mehetia, an extinct volcano some 60 miles east of Tahiti, but south of our planned route.

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As we approached this island more closely, the VOR sprang into life, showing that we were, indeed, off course, so Mehetia it was:

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With only 60 odd miles to go, I started to relax. “What's that smell?”, enquired a small voice from the back. The lady was clearly more awake than me, as smoke was starting to appear from the engine. “Sh -*t”, I mouthed and scanned the engine instruments. Sure enough, temp was high and pressure low. “We'll head for that island and sort things out”, I said confidently, hoping that we'd actually make it that far:

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Losing height as slowly as was feasible, I leaned the fuel to the minimum in the hope that the damaged engine might last a little longer:

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Making a final approach to the beach, I hoped that the reef wouldn't snag the floats when we came down:

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With the fuel cut off, I steered in towards the sand, willing the Beaver's momentum to get us to the beach:

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“Right, let's exit pronto!”, I shouted, as the panel caught fire and I sprayed it liberally with foam:

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Well, as luck would have it, the fire extinguisher did the trick and the interior didn't catch. Anna had jumped out and caught her belongings as I unloaded them. Last, but not least, the Baton – “Must save that!”, I thought – “Don't want to lose the bl**dy thing”...

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I'd sent out an SOS to FAAA after turning to Mahetia, so hopefully they'd take some action. Unfortunately, the radio was charcoal, so we'd have to wait and see what might turn up.

And that is where we leave our intrepid pair as the sun slowly sets over French Polynesia. Will the rescue services oblige or will the Baton suffer an ignominious fate? All will be revealed...

Cheers – Dai. :cool:

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Looks like someone did quite a bit of work on this one, excellent work Dai. :thum: Great PIREP so far, looking forward to a happy ending. 

 

Really enjoying this saga, hope everything works out for you, it would be horrible(?) to be stuck on a deserted island with Anna. Although she would be a lot better company than a volleyball. :D

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And here's Part 2 - Thanks for your patience!

Well, we figured the island must be inhabited, so I set off to find help whilst the young lady looked after her baggage. No surprise to find a budding tourism outpost, just round the point, with some friendly locals who quickly sorted out accommodation and refreshments. Although my mobile wouldn't work (wrong network!), our hosts contacted Papeete and requested assistance. We were told that Tahiti Helicopters would pick us up as soon as they could – possibly in the morning. Sure enough...

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Tahiti had sent one of their Ecureuil AS.350 B's – normally used for tours of the interior and delivering surfers to 'secret' breaks – but they were only too pleased to transport us back to the mainland. After checking I still had the Baton and saying Goodbye to our new friends, we were off:

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The Beaver had been anchored close to the beach, where we'd landed, so I asked if we could check on its mooring. She was a sad sight...

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Up close, you could see the blistered paintwork, but I hoped the damage to the engine wasn't too severe. We had arranged insurance, but I wasn't sure about the excess. As long as it didn't come from out of my pocket!

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With a maximum speed of 130 knots, the 350 had us approaching the mainland in less than half an hour. The eastern peninsular of Tahiti was covered in thick jungle:

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Taking us through Tahiti's highlands, the pilot showed us the sights.

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I'd mentioned I'd once been a keen surfer, so we naturally had to take in Teahupo'o – one of the world's scariest waves, but relatively quiet, today:

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Following the coast north west, we soon came round to Papeete, with FAAA in the distance. Did we know that FAAA was the only airport whose ICAO code was it's real, local name? Well, we did – after the pilot explained. “What about KLAX?”, my ex-passenger asked. Good question, I thought...

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The airport was certainly colourful – the grass must be irrigated regularly to remain that colour!

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Not many airlines serve FAAA – well, few aircraft were around. Still, it was before 10 o'clock... Bora Bora was a fantastic sight to the west. Maybe I'd get time for a trip before returning to normal?

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We slowed for the approach to Tahiti's helipad. Time to start thinking about handing on the Baton – I'd have to page them, I guess. Anna, too, was looking restless. I wondered who she'd be meeting...

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Well, we were at our destination, despite a rather dubious detour involving an excess of smoke. The Tahiti pilot wished us Bon Voyages and left us on the apron.

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So, that's the end of this particular adventure. I hope you enjoyed the ride and may I wish you all the best for the season!

Cheers – Dai. :cool:

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:clapping: Bravo :clapping:  Splendid PIREP. Happy to see you were rescued, in style I might add and the baton will continue on with it's world travels. 

 

Is there going to be a mission created from this leg? Seems like there should be with all those library objects already in place.

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Thanks for your kind comments - ATWC is always a good excuse to make up a story...

Micke - the FAAA scenery is by NXGN and you can see details here:

http://secure.simmarket.com/nxgn-simulations-tahiti-faaa-x-fsxp3d.phtml

The default fields for this ATWC Leg were all pretty barren so I used InstantScenery for the atolls and forked out for the NXGN payware. Joe will be getting a bill! :thum:

The repaints were done to add a bit more realism - the Ecureuil AS.350 came from Simviation, I think. The T7 from AVSIM.

Cheers - Dai. :cool:

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Thanks Dai..

 

It looks very nice and it's tempting at only €14, but I might just hold out for the upcoming Tahiti X2 from Aerosoft to get some extended coverage for the other islands too...

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