PIREP Leg 12 LTCF Kars to OIII Mehrabad Iran

[J G 927]

Those of you who managed to read to the end of my last PIREP know that I ended up in prison in Simferopol for asking Vladimir Putin what he was doing in the Crimea.

 

I had spent a few days in the military clink undertaking some serious wall staring when I was interrupted by one of my guards. “You have visitor” he said “come”.  So I went.  I strolled into the visiting hall trying to hide the relief and excitement at having some contact with the outside world again. It was Kieran, he had come for the baton. I handed it over post haste. I didn’t mention what was hidden in it. The good news was that apparently people on the outside knew of my predicament and wheels were turning.  The bad was that they were very slow.  After some more small talk we went our separate ways, Kieran to the world of fresh air, sunlight, good food and drink, the pleasure of being able to walk down the street, laugh and joke, go to the pub, sleep when he wanted to etc. etc.. I went back to my concrete hutch.

 

Two hours later I was half way through my evening cabbage soup when all hell let loose. There was a banging and crashing from the front of the building and I could have sworn that I heard a Mosquito roaring overhead. This prison was getting to me. Anyway the crash and bang prompted much Russian shouting of “yob!” “Moodak” and as my guards rushed away towards the source of the commotion. There were a few “S’ebis” thrown into the gobbing off as well, or that’s what it sounded like anyway.  I was trying to see what was going on through a gap in the food flap in the door when there was another loud crash from behind me.  I turned and this is what I saw:

 

 

An unusual exit…

 

There was a big hole under my bed. A female head popped up and said “well don’t just stand there gawping, c’mon! She beckoned frantically and so I followed her down the hole.

“Hurry, we don’t have much time before they find you have gone, the diversion wont fool them forever.” I looked around to see that we were running through a sewer. Then my initial shock gave way to my olfactory sense which overwhelmingly confirmed the fact. My mystery liberator pushed on quickly and eventually started to climb a ladder to a manhole cover, pushing it up so that we could exit. We emerged on in a courtyard where a car was waiting. The boot of the car was open, “get in” said the girl.  I made for the door and she grabbed me and shoved me into the boot shutting me in the cramped space. The car sped off with me bouncing around with my new best friend the spare wheel.

 

After a half hour of stops and starts and the overwhelming stench of tyre rubber and sewage we stopped and the boot was opened. By now I was worried, there people were probably friends of Number 7 and Number 3, and that wouldn’t be healthy for me, especially as I didn’t have it now. I was grabbed, hauled out of the cramped space and pulled towards a beach by the woman and a man who must have been the driver of the car.  By now it was fully dark, but I could just make out an inflatable Rib at the water’s edge. A black clad figure waited at the tiller of the outboard at the back of the craft. The girl and I got in and the man from the car pushed us off and ran back to the car. It was then I noticed that the Girl was armed with a suppressed pistol and the boatman a sub-machine gun. Oh God what had I got myself into.

 

We sped off over the black water into the gloom. “Who are you?” I asked once the boat had settled down to its skimming cruise. The reply was terse and from the boatman “Shut it!” Well at least the bloke was a Brit, as was the girl. I did as I was bid and the boat sped on.

 

I look around me, the boat was black, no interesting markings on it, the girl was still but alert and the boatman moved only to check a hand held GPS. Then the boatman grunted and shut down the throttle, the boat glided to a stop and started to wallow in the swell. And then the water a hundred yards ahead of started to boil, and up rose the conning tower of a submarine. As soon at the deck was just clear of the water we motored over and climbed on board. We were down into the bowels of the vessel, the boatman and Rib followed in quick time and almost before I knew it the boat was diving. Blue clad men bustled about us, each with their own task as we got under way.  I then realized these guys were Royal Navy and I began to feel better about my predicament. 

 

 

Our way out of the Crimea. That’s us on the left hand side in the murk.

 

An officer appeared and said that the Captain would see us now. His face looked like we were as welcome as a fart in a lift. Then I realized that after our trip through the sewers and now cooped up in a submarine……

 

Introduction were made, the girl announced that she was Pond, Jasmine Pond, from the foreign office. She apologised for the cloak and dagger prison brake, but Her Majesty’s Government didn’t have a diplomatic representative at the moment. “Do you have the package from No 7?” she asked. “Alas no” I said and explained that it was still in the baton. Immediately Jasmine was on a satellite phone and talking to someone in her chain of command, reporting the situation. When she was finished I asked “Are you number 4?” She replied that, no she wasn’t Number 4 or any other number in the SMEG organisation. Apparently SMEG was a criminal organisation whose full name is; the Strategic control of Murder Extortion and Greed. The package was some microfilm of dire importance to world peace that had fallen into their hands via a high ranking NATO officer who had joined their number.

 

It was vital that the package was retrieved quickly, and to that end Micke was contacted and persuaded to schedule me for leg 12 so that I might quickly retrieve the Baton and avoid a world disaster. The sub was to take me to Turkey where I would go ashore at Hopa, a small settlement on the Turkish Black Sea coast. From there Jasmine and I would be helicoptered to Kars by the Turkish Air force.

 

And so it came to pass, Jasmine Pond and I found ourselves in an RAF Chinook flying the 250 km over the mountains to Kars, we shared the helicopter with some large metal crates but there is loads of room in a big windy so it was no bother. It was at this time that I had the opportunity to ask about the commotion just before the escape; apparently Sharon and Kieran had used a Mosquito to create a diversion. Jasmine had set it all up , briefing Sharon and then taking a back seat while she set about planning my escape. Thanks Guys!

 

In the Air we received a report that the airport was full of SMEG operatives and landing there would delivering ourselves right into their hands.  We decided to be set down at Cakmak about 15 minutes’ drive from Kars and the other side of the town from the airport.  Jasmine nicked a bike and went down to the airport to pick up the package and see what the situation was with respect to me continuing on with the baton. She returned and explained that It wasn’t looking good, we would have to go to plan B. The set of crates were unloaded from the Chinook and Jasmine set to work.

 

As she worked assembling the parts from the packages, I slowly saw what Plan B was. It was a microlight, called Big Nellie.  Jasmin was very proud of Big Nellie, describing her as a development from an earlier gyrocopter called Little Nellie that was used with some success in Japan.  Big Nellie had had her armament removed as we would be flying in some politically sensitive areas and it things went pear shaped it would be as well to be in an unarmed aircraft. Apparently she normally carried two machine guns, air to air missiles, aerial mines and air to ground missiles. The latter were fitted as a replacement to the original flamethrowers as although these were effective, fired more than twice and the aircraft would run out of fuel. The one modification that was still on board was a radio altimeter, which was to prove very useful indeed.

 

 

 

BIG NELLIE

 

My immediate reaction was; “you’re having a laugh! It bloody freezing out there, how are we going to go survive it that?” Jasmine pulled out a blue bag and said “with these.” Inside the blue bag were two RAF issue heated flying suits specially modified to work with a combination of batteries and power from the microlight.  We have about an hour on batteries alone with these but when the engine is running we should be good for as long as we want. Also in the bag was a tent, two sleeping bags and food in the form of army field rations.

 

Satisfied that it wasn’t as mad as I had first thought, we settled down to go through the route we would take. This was not so much as a planning session as a telling session. I was being told the route that was planned. There was good reason for this as we would have to refuel several times on our journey and would be relying on fuel dumps set up by our agents in the region. The planned route was not being filed as a formal flight plan then. This was to be totally covert.  Jasmine would navigate I would fly, we would both see what would unfold. From our personal flight plan I could see that this was to be no easy trip. It would take us several days to complete.  Jasmine told me that this was deliberate, the route took us through mountain valleys and along the borders of Armenia, The Shahumyan Region, Ngomo-Karabakkh Republic both of which are breakaway regions of Azerbaijan, Azerbaijan proper and over the Caspian Sea and then into Iran. The idea being that we would fly low in the mountain valleys to avoid radar and confuse the authorities of these regions and countries as to whom we belonged to and whose airspace we were in. The journey would take at least three days, so with luck we would give SMEG time to think I was no longer heading for Tehran, thus give up waiting for me so that I can give them the slip.

 

 

Route Plan

 

We manhandled the craft on the road, there was a good long straight stretch of it heading off towards Kars. Lined up and with the motor running we were ready for our take-off run. I was in the front seat and Jasmin was behind me. We went through our pre-flight checks starting with a coms check, and pausing while the Chinook clattered into the sky. Checks completed we were ready to go.  

 

Day 1 Turkey - Armenia

 

 

 

Our plan was to pick up the 070 road as far as Dagpinar, here turn east and follow a river valley to Ucbolk and then up to the Akhurian reservoir. From here we would continue along the reservoir and pick up the river at it far end which we would follow north as far as Bayandu. Then we would track the A327 south and then east as far as Ashtarak and then follow the A325 to Yerevan.  Here we would follow the M24 to Hrazdan where we would land for fuel. Our landing field would be marked by a burning tyre in a corner of the field, we wouldn’t be meeting the agent who put it there for the safety of that very agent. Then it was just a case of following the shores of Lake Sevan until we found our overnight stop at Tsovak.  Again this would mean landing in a field marked with a burning tyre, but this time we would be getting out the camping gear and staying the night.

 

Our runway was makeshift, a straight section of road would have to suffice as Kars LTCF was too hot for me.

 

 

We took off and headed east towards the mountains, following the road….. 

 

 

 

Then a valley and then a river, crossing from Turkey into Armenia as we did so.  All the time flying as low as we could to merge with any radar's ground clutter.

 

 

Once in Armenia we were forced to take a large detour north following the river to the Akurian Reservoir which we flew the length of. As we did so we crossed from Armenia to Turkey and back again several times. At the far end we swung south following the M1 road to Ashtarak and then to Yerevan.

 

We picked up the M4, followed it through a large valley to Hrazdan where we landed in a field to fill the fuel tanks from a fuel dump sited there buy MI6’ local agent.  This pattern of refueling from prearranged fuel dumps was to repeat its self regularly over the whole trip. 

 

 

With the fuel on board, we got out our late lunch, which consisted of some X Rations, Self-heating MRE or Meals Ready to Eat in armed forces parlance. Once we were fed and watered we took to the skies again, to cross Lake Sevan. This is a large lake which took some time to cross as we were doing a little over 50 knots.

 

 

 

As we neared the opposite end of the lake the sun was low in the sky and mountains lay in front of us. Once we had picked up the lakeside settlement of Tsovak we quickly found our next fuel dump, and landed there for the night. Firstly I put out the tyre fire, it stank, but mostly I did this to avoid curious eyes. The aircraft was refuelled next and then the tent was pitched and set up for the night. After getting some more MRE down our neck we turned in as tomorrow was to be an early start and the hardest part of the flying of the trip.

 

 

Day 2. Armenia – Azerbaijan

 

We were up before dawn and had packed up and ready to go at first light. We would have a few miles of flat land to traverse and then over in boarder to Azerbaijan just as the ground started to rise up into the Lesser Caucasus Mountains.

 

Today’s objectives were to cross the mountains, refuel the other side if we need to and then proceed eastwards to the Caspian Sea.

 

 

Today was to be a difficult day’s flying. First we had to cross the Lesser Caucasus Mountains.  Don’t be lulled into thinking that these would be a breeze because of the word “Lesser” in the title, there were big mountains, especially for a little microlight, it is just that the Greater Caucasus range was bigger.

 

So careful planning was needed to get over them. The microlight’s ceiling was about 8,000 feet so we would have to go through them rather than over them.  To do this we must first pick up the M11 road going east from nearby Tsovak and follow it along valleys through the mountains as far as lake Trtu and then pick up the H-H road as far as the M12 then the R28, R31 again in valleys, until we were clear of the mountains.  Then it was the M6, R42 and M3 until we joined the R46 which would take us to out overnight stop at Neftcaia. If needs be we had a refuel point at Parabad Moghan Airport (OITP) should we use a lot of fuel getting through the mountains, this would be a last resort as out arrival there would be noticed.

 

 

 

We were ready to go as dawn broke, sun visors down, we took-off into the wind and the sun as well. Following our plan, Jasmine directed us eastward. She was going to have to be at the top of her game navigating for the next few hours.  

 

 

As the Sun climbed higher so did the mountains and our little craft. Soon we were back in the snow. The little machine fighting for height and at last reaching her ceiling at 8,000 ft. We couldn't go higher, we had to find a way through at this height or lower.

 

 

Struggling as we were bur faithfully following the road, we came across another beautiful but dangerous hazard. Low lying mist in the valleys totally obscured our view of the road, and so we were without our prime navigation aid. It was indeed fortunate that we had a GPS on board as this took much of the risk out of our passage, the last thing we wanted was to find ourselves up a blind valley with little room to turn and an aircraft already stretching its flight envelope.  A stall in these conditions would be fatal.

 

 

Fortunately the mist was very localized. When it cleared we found ourselves back on track with both road and the flat lands in view. . We had done it, we had crossed the mountains in one piece, and furthermore, with plenty of fuel to spare.  We wouldn't need that risky fuel stop.

 

 

Over the mountains the landscape started to change, it was more arid with a significant change in the vegetation. I guess we must be in the rain shadow of the mountains.  For the first time I was able to switch off my heated suit. 

 

 

 

“Turn left at the next cross roads” Jasmin’s voice came across the intercom. Soon the crossroads came into view exactly where she had predicted. I hung a left. We were now on the R46 which would take us all the way to our overnight stopover. Neftcala was on the shores of the Caspian Sea.

 

 

We were almost at Neftcala when we saw the black smoke of a burning tyre, and therefore our overnight stop. It was out on a large stretch compacted sand that looked flat and solid.  We turned into our approach. We landed, extinguished the tyre fire and set up camp.

 

We filled up both ourselves with more MRE and Nellie with fuel.  By then the sun had started to go down, so we watched the sunset and then then got our heads down for tomorrow was yet another early start.

 

 

 

Day 3. The Caspian Sea and Iran

 

Day 3 would be south to Tehran.  It was a fair trek, but easy going and with a refueling point on the way. The only hard bit would be crossing the mountains that lie between the Caspian coast and Terhan itself. However this was through a valley and we thought it wouldn't be a drama. 

 

 

We would be leaving Azerbaijan and entering the more politically sensitive Iran and so we would have to be legal for the last part. Fortunately we had MI6 on our side and they had used all of their wizardry to give us a cover story for our flight. We were to be a demonstration flight for the drifter, flying in from Turkmenistan in the north east and we had clearance to Mehrabad International. You can see from the plan that we have a refuel stop at Kiashahr, where the plan touches the coast and then a detour so that we can be seen by Iranian Radar as coming from the north east.

 

 

 

We set off over the Caspian Sea, this was our last day and was to be in some respects both interesting and in others father dull.

 

The dull bit was it was to be a day filled in the most part by flying over the Caspian Sea. So the scenery would be a lot of sea, sea and more sea. The more interesting part was the height we would be flying at.  To avoid radar and so that we could pull off our arriving from the east flight plan we would be flying low, and I mean low.  We would be flying just feet over the waves until we were at our over sea double back point (see the plan above) after which we would resume a normal flying and radar visible altitude.  The other thing that would be interesting about this approach would be our altitude.  The Caspian Sea is about 24 metres below sea level, so we would be flying at a negative altitude as fare as instrumentation goes.   Look carefully at the picture above and you will see that the altimeter seems to be reading 97 feet.  It is actually reading minus 30 feet, and there is still another 48 or so feel below the aircraft at this point.

 

 

We followed the coast south to our refueling point at the remote and lonely spot of Kiashahr. As we arrived it started to rain off and on. There is not a lot of protection against the elements in a Drifter and we were soon becoming rather wet. At least it wasn't freezing he as it was at the start of this adventure, we hadn't had to user our heated suits so far today.

 

We landed and refuelled with no dramas and were soon on our way again. Next stop Tehran.  The news at Kiashahr was that there was no sign of any SMEG agents in Tehran and so we would be able to land at our assigned destination. This was good news as we could stick to our flight plan deception.   The rain got heaver.

 

We set off on the last part of what had become a bit of a marathon. Our flight plan taking us further out to sea and, more importantly out of sight of the land. The rain got heavier and now was interspersed with the odd rumble of thunder. On we droned at about 65 knots, wet, bodies stiff and tired, willing this journey to be over now.

 

After what seemed to be forever I noticed a slight darkening of the horizon to my right. I knew this was land, and on checking with Jasmine, confirmed that we had drawn level with Tehran behind its mountain barrier. From now on we would be flying away from our destination. At least it wouldn't be for too long.

 

Soon enough we turned and climbed up into the radar. We were challenged at once and after identifying ourselves got flight following in return. The rain had stopped thank God.  We soon were crossing the coast and heading towards the mountains.  Once we had gone through the valley, we were almost at Tehran.  Piece of cake. Or not! 

 

 

 

We followed the road through the valley.  The road snaked up an up, 2,000 feet, 4,000 feet, 6,000 feet, this little craft could fly no more than 8,500 feet, this was looking a bit dicey.  

 

 

 

On and on we went, up and up we went following the road all the while. Then all of a sudden the road went into a tunnel. The tunnel was set into a huge wall of rock, and we couldn't use it. I slammed the throttles forward and tried to gain more height. We were over the snow line now, and as we scrapped over the top, I am sure we left tyre marks in the snow on the crest!

 

On the other side the land was very different, dryer, browner and full of signs of human habitation. 

 

 

Going down the other side was both easier and less distance.  Remember that the Caspian Sea is 24 meters or 78 feet below sea level, well Tehran is almost 4,000 feet above sea level.

 

 

The scene above shows Tehran with its mountainous backdrop. The moon is up and it’s getting late, but we are nearly there.

 

 

We turn into our final approach… I can almost taste that ice cold beer.

 

 

 

We parked up and secured the aircraft. Jasmine was going through the Diplomats gate and so we said our goodbyes, and we went our separate ways, but not before I unscrewed the baton’s end and handed her the package. Well I had got rid of the package, and to the good guys as well, which is something. However this leg has been a marathon, we had travelled just under 600 miles at an average speed of just 65 knots.  

 

I had managed to evade SMEG which was good, the trouble is I had pissed off SMEG big time.  I doubt I had heard the last of them. 

 

Right, Cold beer time! I expect I will find Brian in the nearest bar.  No signs to bars, that’s odd. Oh wait, this is Iran, no booze! Oh bugger no bars! Brian could be anywhere!  What to do? I looked around, It seemed that at least one in ten people wore the green uniform of the Religious police. I had better behave then.

 

Just then i felt a terrible itch in my nose.....  Mmmhaaabed-chew! Shit, snot everywhere, it must be the dust.  "How dare you speak the name of Mohamed and say shit in the same sentence! " shouted the nearest green uniformed policeman... Oh crap......guess what...

 

 

Jasmine! Help!.... Jasmine, Jasmine help.....

 

 

My name is Pond, Jasmine Pond.

 

JG will return in Section 2 Leg 20 (catchy title isn’t it!)

 

 

 

 

Aircraft:    Ant's Airplanes Drifter Microlight

                RAF repaint: JG

Scenery:  Pilots 2010 mesh

                Orbx Global

                REX 4 with Soft Clouds

               Active Sky

[Bruce (a.k.a. brian747) 142]

                                

 

John, that's truly beautiful stuff! A great PIREP.  

 

How on earth can I follow that?

 

OK, so all I have to do now is to figure out how to get the baton from you, now that you're back inside again. (Again).   oshit (as Terry Pratchett so memorably put it).

 

Er, leave me with it....   

 

Cheers,

 

Bruce

a.k.a. brian747

 

[hurricanemk1c 195]

Glad my little diversion worked out well - only a shame about your enterance into Iran!

 

Superb PIREP as usual John!

[ddavid 149]

A well executed Leg - thanks for generating such an interesting story, John.

Cheers - Dai.

[Captain Coffee 2,030]

Terrific fun read J.G. ...Must remember to avoid following you on an ATWC leg...I don't care much for the cheep hostels you frequent.

[stu7708 244]

 

Great story there John, although considering that the head honcho at SMEG would probably be Arnold Rimmer I doubt you will have to fear them to much.. that Smeg-head couldn't find his own holo-emitter if his life depended on it 

 

By the way, are you by any chance sharing that cell with the arresting officer... Considering he too mentioned the name of the prophet and "shit" in the same sentence I assume he'd have to punish himself too   

[mutley 4,493]

 

Great PIREP JG, a sneeze too far me thinks.

 

Another courageous story well told and well illustrated!

 

Cheers.. Mut

 

[J G 927]

Edited to provide an aircraft and scenery list.

[brett 2,303]

Wow.. what a story, had to read it in two sittings.

 

Great PIREP JG, very entertaining and funny. :thum: 

 

Are you sure Jasmine wasn't Sharon in disguise?