by Ron Kilber (rpknet@aztec.asu.edu)

Wednesday, July 2, 1997

Reykjavik, Iceland

It has been another night at the Gersemi B&B for all of us, and at 7:30 AM we receive a phone call from Andrew Bruce from Wick, Scotland. He's calling to tell us that his weather has cleared and looks like it should hold long enough for us to fly the five-hour leg to Wick, Scotland. Even though we're not all dressed and ready, we hastily pack up, and, like a French taxi driver, Bob risks death and destruction in the rental car on our way to the airport. I don't have time for breakfast, but quick-thinking Axel provides a plastic container, which I use for packing two hard-boiled eggs, yogurt and two slices of bread.

It's about time to leave here anyway. The bars are closed today, as they are every Wednesday in Iceland.

Actually, Andrew Bruce first called from Scotland two days ago. I took the phone call because I was the only one in the FBO office at the time. Wes was working on the defective magneto, and I didn't know where Bob was. Anyway, Andrew wanted to know if he could bribe us to fly to Wick instead of Prestwick. So, while talking to Andrew on the cord-less phone, I walked around outside looking for Bob. I finally found him talking to some pilots who dropped in to refuel, but he was out-of-range from the cordless phone, so I couldn't walk all the way to him. A little shouting and beckoning got Bob to walk over to me, and that's when Bob made a deal with Andrew for a better price on the fuel. Afterwards, I wondered if Bob, just for fun, asked Andrew if he'd throw in some beer along with the fuel.

There isn't time for a lot of last-minutes things like updating our WWW site or going to the money exchange to switch our kronurs for dollars. When Gudjon Atlason of Flight Services, LTD hears me tell Steve that we don't have time to visit the money exchange office, he graciously volunteers to help out, and we trade our kronurs using his hidden stash of US cash.

The folks here at Flight Services, LTD are most accommodating. They are a well-equipped business dedicated to serving over-the-water pilots on their way to Europe or North America. If weather grounds a crew for long, there's a beautiful pilot lounge, complete with expensive leather and teak-wood furniture, as well as a 270 degree view of the airport from all-glass walls. There's a large hotel only 100 steps across the parking lot, complete with a bar, coffee shop, restaurant, shops and a money-exchange facility.

Flight Services, LTD is well equipped with weather-monitoring capabilities and other resources that rival any US government Flight Service Station (FSS). I've never before seen such a complete and well-thought-out facility to accommodate visiting air crews. They even have a beautiful hard-wood dining table, which we used after Don went to the grocery store for sandwich fixings two days ago. And the comfortable sofas are great for a nap. That's where Steve found me sleeping one day when everyone was ready to go out to dinner.

The personnel are wonderful. They helped us with everything imaginable, from chasing down Coast Guard people for spare parts, finding a car to rent, and locating over-night accommodations when the hotel was full.

By 9:15 AM we're finally in the air on our way to Wick, Scotland. It's a gloomy day with a cloud layer at 2,000 feet, so it isn't long before we find ourselves climbing through zero-visibility air. After only a few minutes, it's gets brighter and brighter in here, then we break from the clouds to enjoy unlimited visibility and calm air. Literally, it's the difference between night and day.

At 9:50 AM the view off the left wing is breathtaking. The peak of a snow-packed, maybe glacier-packed, mountain pokes through the solid cloud layer below us. If an engine problem develops now, it would be an easy task to set down on top of the several large, flat areas of snow and ice. We would just have to be sure we would do so wheels-up, least we flip over like the vanguard did when the Lost Squadron crash landed on the icecap in Greenland.

Somewhere down there through the clouds is Keflavik with its NATO air base. A few weeks ago I received mail from Gene Spencer, M/Sgt. USAF (Ret), who in 1946 or '47 flew as a flight engineer on a C-47 from San Bernadino, California to Berlin, Germany. When they arrived at Keflavik in a windstorm, they stayed airborne right over the field, flying into the wind, until they got so low on fuel that they had no other choice but to land. Gene says they were lucky the wind was blowing straight down the runway. Once on the ground, the local crew had every vehicle with any significant weight standing by on the runway waiting for them. Gene says the C-47 only rolled about 75 feet before coming to a full stop. The ground crew quickly tied the C-47 to the trucks and vehicles, and then put several thousand pounds of sand bags on the wings, which also acted as spoilers. Gene says the wind didn't die down for 3 days, so they waited it out in Iceland until the storm was over. That C-47 was piloted by Victor Milnor, and according to Gene, he was one heck of a pilot.

Anyway, the remainder of this leg to Scotland is over water all the way. I will be more at ease once we reach land. In reality, the odds against us increase once we reach the point-of-no-return. Even though we'll be on the back-stretch all the way to Scotland from there, that's when we'll no longer have sufficient fuel to return to Iceland, and we'll have no choice but to forge on towards Scotland, even if the weather deteriorates to the point that we can't land. Prior to the no-turn-back point, we at least have the option (and fuel) to return to Iceland. If the weather turns sour, we'll divert to the closest open airport (maybe Ireland), and if one doesn't exist, it'll be by the seat of our pants from then on. That's what over-the-water flying is all about -- playing for keeps, and it should keep anyone on their toes.

We're cruising at 9,000 feet today, our heading is 145 degrees on the compass, and our over-ocean speed is 155 knots. Luckily for us we have another tail wind. It's a good thing, because this is one of our longest legs; a strong head wind could easily require too much fuel and force us to start using our precious two-hour reserve supply. It's always a hair-raising experience whenever a pilot has to use reserve fuel. After it's all gone, it's a forced landing with or without a runway.

I think we've been averaging thirty-knot tail winds so far on the trip -- minimum. That means we've been traveling 30 nautical miles every hour without having to pay for fuel, oil and wear and tear on the engine and airframe. If we keep this up for the entire trip, expected to take 40 hours, our total gain will be 1,200 nautical miles. All free. That translates into about 9 hours of flight time that we save, or almost 25% of our expected total time in the air. The Skytrooper's hourly operating cost is more than $350 an hour. In other words, we'll save more than $3,000 directly attributable to the favorable tail winds, neither counting saved life on the engines nor the more-than-usual fuel cost along our North-Atlantic route. No wonder pilots always wish each other favorable winds on their tails.

At 11 AM the clouds break and we can see the North Atlantic. Soon we're over clouds again, and a quick look at the GPS reveals that we are 145 nautical miles from the Scottish Flight Information Region (FIR) checkpoint. From there it's more than 200 nautical miles to Wick.

The FIR checkpoint is an imaginary point on the chart. According to Steve, we must check in using our HF radio within five minutes before arriving or departing from it. Otherwise, NATO will launch interceptors, and we will be forced to follow them. What would follow would be a nasty encounter with authorities and an indefinite delay until officials are 100 percent certain we are friend and not foe. So, not only are we playing for keeps with our natural environment, but we're doing so with NATO, too.

If anyone should know about NATO, it is our copilot, Steve Wood. As a US Air Force Major, he was stationed as a pilot at Keflavik, a NATO base in Iceland.

Fifteen minutes before noon, we are flying through clouds. It's a bit bumpy, but quite tolerable. What's unsettling for me though, as a long-time pilot, is knowing that whenever the temperature is freezing and you're flying through visible moisture, icing of the wings and props can present a serious problem. After a quick trip to the cockpit to check the outside air temperature, I'm relieved to find that it is 34 degrees. That's a skosh above freezing, so we should be OK as long as the temperature holds.

By 12:30 PM, Wes assumes the role of flight attendant and serves soda and cookies. I just realize that I have not had a thing to eat so far today, so I wolf down Axel's box-breakfast. Afterwards, a few chocolate-chip cookies taste wonderful.

Bob's wife and daughter, Janet and Kaley, should be arriving in The Netherlands today. Actually, 14-year-old Kaley almost wasn't allowed to travel to Holland. She's Taiwanese born, and when Bob and Janet adopted her in 1988, citizenship was automatically assumed. Not so.

When they applied for Kaley's passport several months ago, she was denied one because she had not yet been issued a green card by the Immigration and Naturalization Service (INS), and the application process could take a full year. They found that out only days before we departed two Sundays ago. What a shocker to learn that at the eleventh hour.

Just as shocking was to learn that Janet's Congressional Representative would do nothing.

Determination will get you a lot in life. When Janet heard that Hillary Clinton was in Phoenix and staying at the Biltmore Hotel, while we were in Goose Bay, right away she seized the opportunity and managed to speak to a member of the First Lady's staff. Once Hillary got wind of it, from there all it took was a phone call to the INS station chief in Phoenix, and right away Kaley received permission to travel to The Netherlands.

After Bob learned that his daughter was granted permission to travel out of the US, he told me that he and Janet are going to register as Democrats. This after being life-long Republicans.

At 1:30 PM, my barometer in the seat next to me indicates that we are descending. Actually, it's an empty plastic-soda bottle tightly capped. The lower we go, the more it collapses as the atmospheric pressure increases around it.

Ten minutes later, for the first time since leaving Iceland, I can see through a small hole in the clouds. Scotland's terra firma is a welcome sight to behold, especially since everyone of us, I'm sure, has been a little up-tight on this leg, knowing the engine problems we encountered along the way. The sight of land saves the day.

The Scottish countryside is as beautiful as any well-manicured rural area I've ever seen. There are green, patchwork views to our left and the agricultural views to our right are more mosaic in appearance. But it's a total surprise when out of the blue appears a castle on the shores of the North Sea about two or three miles from the Wick airport.

Introduction
Day 1, Mesa, AZ to Salina, Kansas
Day 4, Stuck in Bangor, Maine
Day 7, Greenland to Iceland
Day 11, Iceland to Scotland

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