PIREP Leg 27 Norfolk Island Intl(YSNF) to Kaitaia Airport (NZKT)

[J G 927]

Firstly, a disclaimer.  Any character resemblance in this tale to any real person dead or dead is purely coincidental.

 

I apologise for the lengthy PIREPS that this is. It is more another chapter on my adventure around the world with the baton.  But as this is the last leg in this section, this will give you something to read while Mikael is sorting out the next sections runners.

 

Let me wind you back a bit… At the end of leg 15, I was sitting in the bar at Jorge Chaves International, in darkest Peru, trying to spin out the one pint I could afford I waited for Brian to arrive.  His flight was due soon so I thought I could hand over the baton and then try and find a place to stay where I didn’t have to pay up front.

 

My phone rang.  It was too soon for it to be Bill as he would still be on his way back to the UK, so it was probably the wife phoning me to see how I had got on. Good I thought, delving into my pocket for the phone, I can get her to wire me some dosh to tide me over.

 

It wasn’t the wife; caller display said it was Brian. Oh good I thought, he is here already! I answered the phone eagerly.

 

Bugger! It wasn’t Brian, but his wife. He was going to be five to seven days late!  I was screwed! She rang off and I just sat at the bar glumly examining my beer, thinking about what it would be like sleeping rough in Lima, with only the baton for company.

 

“Are you ok mate?” said a broad Australian voice. I looked up and saw the barman addressing me.  What is it with Australians and Bars?  Sometimes I think Australia must have special schools that train men and women in bar tending for export.  Perhaps it’s a secret plot to take over the bar world...

 

I chatted to the barman for a while about my predicament, and he came up with an Idea.  Only yesterday he had been chatting to some backpackers who wanted to get to Cuzco If I could help them out, it would be bonza or ripper or something like that, and I could take a commission.   Bruce, the barman, gave me a name and number to contact the backpackers, and I had soon stitched Brian up with a trip to Cuzco! Better still, I had trousered the whole fee for the trip, so Brian would be doing it for free.  Ha-ha, serves him right for being late!

 

Having handed over the baton, the burning question was what to do with all the readys that Brian was earning for me?  It seems like I could stay here and wait for a slot in the next section which may or may not come, or follow the baton and be nearer to it should another leg come my way. I looked at the last leg in the section, Santiago, Chile.  Perfect! I could stay with Augusto… what was his name Penogresio, well it was Pino-something, for free, well ok, there was a cost, he was a miserable old git, but hey-ho I could cope with that!

 

I should explain, I had actually met Augusto through Bills uncle. Bills uncle was flying helicopters down this way in 1982, when a colleague of his had reason to crash land a helicopter close to the Argentine boarder. At the time Augusto was something high up in the Chilean Army and government, and this mate of Bills uncle got to know him after the crash. I met Augusto when he visited London years later for medical treatment; we were on a bender with Bills uncle, his Granddad and Rupert the pilot who crashed.  What a night that was, I can’t say I cared for some of Bill’s uncle’s mates but beggars can’t be choosers!

 

Decision made, I was off to catch the next flight to Santiago. 

 

Arriving at the airport, I managed to get on the 10:15 PM flight to Santiago (flight TA7625). It was a TACA Airbus 321, costing an arm and a leg for the late booking and putting a massive dent in my backpacker’s funds. The flight was packed! I was truly like travelling in an overcrowded South American bus.

 

 

The flight was packed

 

The flight took about three and a half hours, and was truly uneventful.  Travelling light I should have been through customs and into the airport bar to meet Augusto in no time at all. However, travelling light made me standout from the crowd and I was through customs in a mere three hours.  Having searched everything I had, including my dignity the Chilean authorities finally let me into the country when Augusto was contacted and vouched for me.   Despite being very intimate with me, the customs officer still didn't like me. I hoped he wouldn't be on duty when I came to leave.

 

Augusto welcomed me with a sardonic smile as I hobbled across the airport concourse, and asked me what had happened.  I explained and he asked me to describe my customs nemesis.  Having done so he burst out laughing and said, I was unlucky, it seems like I got Fernando the Hando, otherwise known as “The proctologist”. Augusto thought it hilarious.  I secretly wished harm on his prostate.

 

 

Meeting Augusto at Arturo Merino Benitez international airport.

 

So the next few days would be put to good work, acquainting my self with Chilean beer, food and more beer, living off the wealthy Augusto and waiting to see what next.

 

One night, a week or two into my stay, when I was getting a bit fed up with listening to him telling me for the umpteenth time how much he fancied Mrs Thatcher, I happened to mention the around the world challenge, and how I was stumped as what to do next, given that I had to somehow get to Norfolk Island and then find a way to get the baton to New Zealand. Augusto thought he knew a man who knew a man that might have a plane for sale, and a cheap one at that. I replied that I would be interested, but had no cash.  Augusto said he would look into it anyway and let me know if anything interesting came up.  That’s that I thought and expected nothing to come of it. How wrong I was.

 

The following morning Augusto greeted me at breakfast with a note of excitement in his voice, and a strange look of relief on his face. He had just the aircraft for me. It was a classic, very reliable and on the route that the baton was to take.  He had purchased it on my behalf and it was a gift to his honoured guest and included the flights to it!  I was gob-smacked! “And now you must pack you things and hurry over to the airport as the flight to Sydney Island is leaving soon, and I have you booked on a connecting flight to Norfolk Island!” cried Augusto.  “Oh, ok then” I replied and did as he had bid.

Soon I found myself being waved off in a taxi with my case, all so fast I didn’t have time to take it in.  I got the impression he was glad to see the back of me. I arrived at the airport and boarded the first of my flights to Norfolk Island.

 

On arrival at Norfolk Island, I was greeted with a smirk by an airport official who presented me with folder of ownership documents and quickly bundled me into an airport car.  As we sped across the tarmac to a corner of the airfield, I opened up the folder and looked at the details of my new aircraft.  There had to be some mistake. According to the documentation the aircraft was a 1939 C47, ex USAAF then ex some defunct Australian outfit that it had been seized from in payment of debts, some time ago.  I protested to my companion about the aircraft, and asked if he was sure it was the correct one. He replied “I wouldn’t know anything about that mate” to everything I said to him. I slumped back in my seat, my head in a whirl, expecting the worst.  What I got was not what I expected.  It looked worse than worse.  See for yourself below:

 

 

Sold as seen!

 

Rusty, drab, and in grass that covered its tyres was my new acquisition.  I had clearly outstayed my welcome at Augusto’s, and this was a ploy so send me on my way.  I was dropped off and the car sped away.  What was I to do?  Sell her for scrap? She had an airworthiness certificate, but that is no guarantee.

 

With a heavy heart I decided to make the best of it and at least give her the once over. What I found surprised me a little and a faint spark of hope emerged. Her engines had been cared for and the interior was good for its age, the air frame was a bit tatty and very grubby, but fundamentally sound which surprised me, the cabin was actually quite good. I began to think that I might make this work, at least for a while. 

 

 

Not bad eh?

 

My thoughts were interrupted. “Can I help you mate?” A man stood behind me in overalls so greasy that they could have stood up on their own and possibly solved Chile’s fuel problems for a decade. I introduced myself as the aircrafts new owner, “Oh yeah” said the man “It had to happen I suppose”, he looked glum. I asked him who he was. “I am Clive Coredro, mate, I have been looking after this beautiful old girl since she came here, in my free time, you understand. I work as a fitter here at the airport.”  The man was obviously sad at the prospect of parting company with the aircraft.

 

To cut a long story short, we hit a bar together for some tinnies so that he could comfortably tell me all about her, and in our drunken state we ended up forming an air haulage company together. Christening it Lamb Air (Coredro is Spanish for Lamb and the Lamb of God is on the coat of arms of my home town), Clive was to be the ground maintenance staff and co-pilot and I was business procurer and the Pilot. World put to rights and very drunk, we returned to the airport the best of buddies to sleep it off in the aircraft cabin.

 

I awoke the next morning to a mother of a headache and the feeling that a parrot had nested in my mouth overnight, so not an unfamiliar feeling then. The aircraft had a small galley (in 1938 airline food was cooked on the plane) so I made coffee for Clive and me.

 

Over Coffee I remembered the events of the previous evening...... and then the Around the World Challenge.   I groaned, on the face of it the two were incompatible.  How could I set up a Southern Hemisphere air haulage firm and compete in the ATWC.  And then I remembered I was married with family responsibilities. Now I was in trouble. I confessed all to Clive. He thought for a moment.  “No worries” he said.  “We will use the DC3 in the ATWC, and pay our way round with passengers and cargo.”

 

“Have you got a passport?”  I said, “And, what will you do once we get to England?”

 

“Not a problem mate!” exclaimed Clive, “I have a passport, and what’s more it’s British! There is nothing here for me, and I have never been able to afford to go to my homeland.  We will base ourselves in England!”  It seemed that his late mum had been a Brit from Gibraltar who had never bothered to get an Australian passport. Clive, being a pommie bastard in the true meaning of the word,  was the result of an antipodean one night stand, and his mother’s citizenship had been passed on to him.  Well, if he was happy, then so was I.  It seemed like a plan and solved a few problems on how to get back in the Challenge, and eventually back to Blighty…. maybe.

 

We set to work preparing the old girl for the baton run. We concentrated on the essentials to get her air worthy again which was surprisingly easy, thanks to the work Clive had done. When we were ready she still looked rusty and drab, but that was just superficial. Never the less, we christened her “Rusty”.  When she had earned us some money, we would smarten her up a bit. Whilst we were working on Rusty a fuel browser pitched up. “I got instructions to fill up this crate” said the driver.   “No charge, it’s covered by a bloke called Bill. He says to tell you good luck, and this is to make up for Augusto P. being a bit of a miserable sod.”  Good old Bill, fuel for fifteen hundred miles! My word he is going to have some explaining to do when his missus sees his credit card bill!

 

When we were satisfied that we were happy with the work done on her and had done a few ground tests, it was time to test fly Rusty. This drew a small crowd, we suspected the gathering was purely to see us crash, indeed the fire truck and ambulance came out of their garages especially for the occasion.  Thanks for the encouragement guys!

 

The engines started first time, much to the crowds disappointment, and, after a “are you sure you want to do this boys?” from the tower we got taxi clearance and moved off to the end of the runway. It’s never a busy day here so we were cleared to takeoff at once and we lined up on the runway. I opened the throttles up, the engines responding sweetly as I knew they would, it was the air frame I was worried about.  I needn't of, Rusty’s tail went up like a dog that’s got a scent and she leaped into the air. 

 

 

Rusty’s first flight - for some time!

 

A couple of circuits over the airfield and it was time to come down.  Everything worked as it should, and we safely down before we knew it.  We were even allowed to taxi to a proper ramp! We climbed out of the aircraft to a cheer from the crowd, although I did sense a slight note of disappointment.

 

As we were putting Rusty to bed for the night, we were approached by one of the crowd that had been watching us, “I hear you guys are heading off to Kaitaia soonest” he said. I answered in the affirmative and explained that we were waiting for the baton, and then we would be off.  “How do you fancy taking a cargo for me? I would pay well” he said.   Now I knew that the islands main industry after Tourism was fish, and I didn’t fancy a cargo that would stay with us long after we had unloaded it. The guy had read my thoughts, he laughed and said, don’t worry its wine, from the Two Chimneys winery, going to a New Zealand wine conglomerate for assessment. We leaped at the chance to make some cash on out first trip, and a deal was done. All we needed now was Brett and the baton! Thankfully he was running late and that had helped buy us time to do much needed work on Rusty.

 

Brett arrived in due course and took a look at Rusty, His imitate reaction was to burst out laughing and to say “You’ve got to be joking!” We assured him we were most certainly not. He stopped smiling.  “Well good luck with that” he said, handing over the baton, “I must be going, see you around!” he said, and muttered under his breath “or may be not”. As he wandered off he got this mobile phone out and started chatting to someone.  I got the distinct impression we was arranging for a replacement baton to be at Kaitaia.

 

Clive an I didn’t waste any time, we wanted to make up some time and it was later in the day than we had hopped. Should we risk it with what would be a night landing? We decided to go for it. 

 

 

Starting Rusty up, much smoke, little confidence.

 

 

Both engines started without trouble and settled down to run sweetly. So we set about taxi and clearance and made a start.

 

 

Both engines running sweetly.

 

 

After the Taxi, we soon had takeoff clearance and I opened up both throttles. The engines responded well and we trundled down the runway slowly gathering speed as we did so. I have to say I felt a little apprehensive, as I am used to flying military jets or light aircraft, and this old bird was large and slow, would we ever get off the ground?  But the tail came up and we son were in the air. Wheels up as quick as I could in true fighter pilot style and we were on our way.

 

 

Wheels up fast – we have lift off!

 

 

We slowly clawed our way into the air and Norfolk Island gradually disappeared over the horizon. Then it was a case of sea and sky and very little else.

 

 

Sea and sky, sky and sea.

 

 

As if The Almighty sensed our rising boredom, as the sun went down we were treated to the most amazing sunset. It certainly lifted our spirits, and as Rusty seemed to be behaving herself, we took time off from scanning the instruments for trouble to enjoy this beautiful sight.

 

 

As the sun sinks, beauty rides the dusk……

 

 

….. and rusty glows in her radiance.

 

 

However, soon the sun had gone and we could see… Bugger all!

 

 

There is an aircraft out there ….somewhere!

 

 

So it was back to scanning the instruments and watching our heading. 

 

 

The instruments at night, all behaving well.

 

At last the north island of New Zealand appears in the gloom on the port bow. Land Ho! Says I, in my best Long John Silver voice.  Clive looks at me as if I am mad, I have to give him that, making a sea crossing such  an old crate as this, I must be! But its still dark down there, not a light anywhere. There cant be much of a population there. 

 

 

Land Ho! (Jim lad)

 

 

We continued on our course until we saw the welcome sight of the lit runway at Kaitaia. We were almost home, Good girl Rusty, you can make it!

 

 

That small red and white glow is Kaitaia’s runway.

 

We landed straight in, performing a three pointer in spite of the dark and wondered where the taxi way was in this unfamiliar airport.

 

 

 

 

It’s still dark, where do we go?

 

 

It was behind us, so we turned the ship around and taxied to the parking. 

 

Having landed safely at Kaitaia airport, we paid our $210 landing fee and had a snooze in the plane. 

 

 

A murky dawn.

 

 

At dawn we had a snoop around. We found a nice but smallish airport with a not too busy flight schedule, there were a half dozen or so flights a day into the airport and a similar number departing all going to Auckland, and mostly using Beech 1900D aircraft.

 

 

 

Kaitaia airport bus shelter building – No expense spared there then! 

 

As for facilities, there was an arrivals and departure lounge, and new toilet facilities, something the local staff seemed particularly proud of, so, not a lot to do here then, unless you have had some bad prawns. What to do while we wait for the next baton carrier? It was going to cost us about $350 a day to park up here, so we couldn’t stay too long, although for an aircraft the size of a DC3 it wasn’t too bad. Next job, unload the cargo and get paid!

 

 

The tallest building in town!

 

 

Having been paid, we got a cab into town, a fair distance over some tarmac roads, but mostly gravel until just outside of town. Houses here seemed to be mostly single story affairs, with few commercial building being more than two stories high. Kaitaia means “Ample food” in Maori. In reality this means a KFC and a subway, a couple of cafes on the main drag and of course the ubiquitous McDonalds .  Eating here was looking very ample but plastic. 

 

There was a Motel in town where we could stay, but we decided to see if we could sleep on the aircraft if we could, and start on restoring her outward appearance while we waited. A bucket of KFC each and some beer and provision from the local Four Square shop was purchased, we headed back to the airfield to wait and see what would happen next.

 

 

 

[mutley 4,488]

Bravo John,

 

I feel as though you so well now! 

 

It's great to know that our challenge crew are so committed (Or should be) to our success. 

 

I really enjoyed your PIREP, will be coming back for another look as I am sure I read it too quickly.

Other successful section, bring on the next!

[brett 2,292]

Great short story PIREP John, nice to see those classic aircraft still in the air. I apologize for being so pessimistic, I should have had more confidence in you guys. I wish you the best of luck in your future travels. 

 

btw-You do have enough fire extinguishers on board, right?

 

I would love to see your logbook, I get the feeling like it is impossible for you to enter everything all on one line.

 

Looking forward to the next one.

[stu7708 244]

Another epic PIREP from you John!

 

I must say you have friends in the most unexpected places, and that Augusto character looks very vital for someone that was allegedly buried in 2006 

 

Now make your best efforts to enjoy the local cuisine because it might take up to a week to get someone to pick up the Baton.. the next section is a long one, and I probably won't have time to get bidding started until early next week...

 

But if I do get a gap in my currently very busy schedule I'll try to get it up sooner. 

 

 

[J G 927]

I must say you have friends in the most unexpected places, and that Augusto character looks very vital for someone that was allegedly buried in 2006  

 

 

Hence the disclaimer "Any character resemblance in this tale to any real person dead or dead is purely coincidental."

[ddavid 149]

Thanks for getting the Old Girl out for a spin, John - and an interesting storyline, too! Maybe you should take writing up seriously?

Cheers - Dai.

[Captain Coffee 2,030]

A very enjoyable read. Some of you folks take this project to a much higher level...waiting for a space shuttle PIREP...he he.