The
Well folks - I’m back – from the
We landed at Feilding at 1630 on Tuesday 13 March and were welcomed by a group of friends and family, as well as a reporter from the Dominion Post. Within a couple of minutes a somewhat apologetic John Waugh had told me that RAANZ wanted copy fast, so here goes….
Dreaming
The credit for dreaming up the trip goes
entirely to John Bolton-Riley, who, having been across the Tasman several
times, decided two years ago that the
Planning
Once the idea set root, JBR and I each began planning various details of the trip, but not in any closely co-ordinated fashion. John had the advantage of having prior experience, and I had some knowledge of that, a variety of biographical references from previous long flights, and my own ideas. Bill Penman was a continual source of ideas and advice as were others in the club.
John contacted HeliFlight who kindly loaned
us survival suits, and I arranged the two man life raft from Mainair at
Equipment
Survival suits from Helipro
Boating Polyprops (ie longjohns)
Personal EPIRBS (Thanks Phil Budding for the loan of yours.)
Flares large parachute type and personal miniflares
Mirror on a lanyard
Dye pack
Torch (buoyant, with lanyard)
2 man life raft
ELT in plane
Food, water with big flare pack (tied to life raft)
Backup GPS
Clearfile folder with photocopies of maps, VTC sections, airfield plate from AIP4, map of the Chathams A4 size
Printout of the track, with GPS co-ords and reporting points (Thanks to Bill Penman)
40 Lit extra fuel
Helmet for head protection in the event of ditching
Gloves
Personal gear – clothes, toiletries etc.
½” x 18” steel stakes, 3/8” tiedown rope and cockpit cover (not needed thanks to Craig)
I wasn’t really worried,
just tired (taken after we got back)
The Journey begins…
We had set the depart day as Good Friday, with
the back up being that we could all fit into Bruces’ 412 if the weather was too
bad for the microlights. We planned to get to the Chathams one way or the
other. I finished school at 1:30 on the Thursday and shot into Wellington
airport to collect the life raft, back
home to say goodbye to my family, and then off to Feilding to stay overnight at
John and Jane’s ready for an early start. Good idea, lousy timing. I knew I’d
hit the Easter traffic, and have a slow trip. I didn’t count on 5 hours to get
to Feilding (usually 2). I finally arrived at
“Oh-Dark-Thirty”, and ready to fire up.
We were both up at 5,
and checked the weather, then filed a flight plan via IFIS before heading down
to the field, a little later than planned. Bill Penman had got there at 5:20,
and not finding us, promptly curled up in his car and went to sleep! He was quickly back on task and we dragged
the planes out, did some last minute rearranging and climbed into the survival
suits. No chance of a “mid flight tinkle” with those, so the morning food and
drink had been minimal!
Finally, about
Climbing, just off the coast at 0819
Our two machines turned East and headed off
toward the gorge. The Sky Arrow was quite a bit faster than the Avid, so John
was holding back on the power to let me keep up. I still lost him through the
Gorge, so he came around and followed me. We spent 30 min or so bouncing around
at about 1500-2000 feet, getting to the coast, to be greeted by veils of rain
to the southeast and clear but overcast to the north. I had change frequencies
to talk to Ohakea, and spent a few minutes circling until JBR came back on
125.1 and we both changed to 123.45, as Ohakea was out of range. Then followed
a long
slow climb up to
8500’, steering for gaps and around the edge of some serious looking cloud.
JHW revealed a very
slow climb, confirming the
prop was set a bit
coarse. I’d known about that, but hadn’t reset it in the weeks previous, as I
didn’t have the time to then perform thorough checks prior to heading over
serious sea. John, unknown to me, had an ongoing battle with icing as he was
running at reduced power so as not to leave me behind, and the Sky Arrow has no
carb heat. He had to blast around at full power every now and then to keep the
Big cloud ahead, 7900’, 0846. We went through
the gap about 15 min later
noise smooth. We
eventually arrived at 9000’ and spent the next few hours marveling at the view,
and continually adjusting course and altitude.maintain VFR through the canyons, overhangs and veils of cloud. We
were never bored, and often discussed the best course some 20 miles ahead. As
we neared
Landfall, 30kts and rain….
to John kindly
suggested I land first. I had been talking to the people on the ground about
where to land, as the wind was about 25kts and 90 deg to the sealed runway
(05/23). JHW has grass tyres which make it really skitterish on seal, let alone
in a crosswind. I began the first of two approaches, very conscious of the need
not to screw up and bend my plane – partly from a personal viewpoint, but also
because I did not want any bad press for microlights. Bill was on the radio
offering advice, and I had the apron as my aiming point, with the taxiway side
grass beyond. The first approach was too
fast, off line and untidy, so I went/lurched around for another go. (I’m never
too proud to go around – it’s the cheaper option and you learn more too.)
Safe in the hangar, a few minutes after we
landed
The second approach
was much better, still a bit
lurchy but on line and I touched down, the
first microlight to land on the
Thank you Craig
A brief but important note here – Craig Emeny, owner and operator of
Chatham Air (Convair and C206) most kindly offered the use of his hangar so we
would not have to tie down outside, and supplied us with fuel at a generously
low rate (for the Chathams) of only $2 per litre. When we came to leave he
would not hear of taking payment for the hangarage so kindly supplied, just
quietly smiling and saying that we are all in the same game, and it was a
pleasure to help. What a guy.
(He was the gliding instructor who sent me solo in a Rhonlerche and
Blanik at German Hill in 1979).
Now was a time for
handshakes, congratulations and general stretching of limbs. JBR was in party
mode almost right away, but I found myself feeling increasingly peaky and
rapidly losing interest in all but sleep. I had not felt at all tired when
flying, and while I was working hard and concentrating during the last 30 min
or so, I hadn’t felt stressed as such, but must have been. Joan, our hostess
from the hotel, had arrived with a magnificent picnic lunch, the first of many
extra efforts she made on our behalf. I opted out, and once in the van, fell
asleep until we reached the hotel, where I went straight o bed, and emerged a
couple of hours later, refreshed and ready to explore.
First evening celebration - John realising that
we now have to fly back again!
The others of the
party were in the bar, chatting and playing pool, and after a couple of games,
Bill and I went out to get some photos. The (only) hotel is right on the
waterfront at Waitangi, with a temptingly landable beach just 10 m away – we
didn’t as wind and tide were unco-operative. There were a number of beached
fishing boats, and numerous bits of old rusty machinery to explore. It was
immediately obvious that whatever might happen on these islands, the sea
dictates terms and will always be the ultimate winner. After some more
exploring, it was time for dinner, drinks and watching some football in the TV
room. A fishing trip had been organized by the owner of the hotel, who had
penciled in two boats, one on each side of the island. We were to take the side
with the smaller sea running. I hit the
hay early that first night, as I’d a few phone calls to make (ordinary STD
dialing), and was still quite tired.
I arose on Saturday
bright and keen, the first to the buffet breakfast at 0700. By 0800 all six of
us, plus another “Joan lunch” were in the hotel van and headed for Owenga, a
small fishing village on the south west corner of the island. There we found
Glen – about 30 years old and owner of a perpetual smile and easy nature, his
wife and a teenage deckhand. The boat was all aluminium with a 390 hp diesel,
drum net and simple deckhouse with GPS and sonar.
As we motored out into
After about 20 min we
stopped, anchored and Glen and his deckhand got to work setting up 6mm ropes
for fishing. A chunk of metal for a weight, and two 40cm 60 kg traces with big
hooks, about a metre up from the bottom. Any doubts were quickly dispelled as
we were in only 12 m of water, and for the next hour were hauling in blue cod
until our arms began to tire. Bait the hooks, drop over the side, feel the
weight hit bottom, feel a couple of nibbles, jerk and haul in unhook the cod
and repeat. We actually lost track of who had caught how many.
We were stoked – great
fishing and seventy 40-50 cm cod soon filled two fish crates.
Our fishing boat – aluminium, 390HP, 6 Tonnes,
13 kts.
The Glen said it was
time to head to the shoal for grouper (hapuka). This time we were really stunned
by the fishing. I was first to cast, and in 25m of water soon felt the weight
hit bottom. Thump, thump – two hits and a bit of a fight. I’d certainly hooked
something and so began to haul in. It was hard work, but soon two big hapuka
were on the deck and proudly held up to photograph. Behind me others had
strikes and were already hauling in. We just kept going. Glen repositioned the
boat a couple of times so we could drift across the shoal. Soon we had about 50
grouper. We had tired arms, quite a few blisters and a few hook jags as
personal souvenirs of the best days’ fishing any of us had ever seen. And don’t
think this is just a fishing story – we have the photos to back it up :-)
The trip back took us
past the lagoon entrance, which had some impressive surf breaking over a bar,
and then past the wreck of a 50m fishing vessel that hadn’t quite made it back
some years previously. Back at the wharf, Glen and the others set about
cleaning and filleting the catch, while our group went off the see the statue
of Tommy Solomon, “the last of the Moriori”, who died in 1933. Like all legends it has some basis in fact,
but the real story is more interesting and complex, as we were to discover the
following day.
A couple of hours later we arrived back at the
hotel, complete with a fish crate full of cod and grouper fillets, and grouper
steaks – about 25-30 kg of beautiful
fresh fish (retail $20 per kg we thought). The manager made space in the
freezer. As I write this, my share is still (I hope) in someone’s freezer in
Feilding! I’ll find out on Sunday.
We went out to try and
find the marae, but succeeded in circumnavigating
When we returned to
the hotel, I found a message from Lea Clough, the local TV1 “stringer”, and
general purpose reporter. He arranged to pick me up for an interview (JBR
wanted to watch the rugby) and we headed off to the hangar, but found it locked
and nobody there to help. The next stop was Port Hutt, a small fishing village
on the northwest corner of the island. There we met Kevan Clarke who is doing
some pioneering work in the exporting of live cod, a complex and delicate task.
Lea and I went out on his boat as he did the last round for the day of the
traps – like lobster pots, but larger, and with a different mouth.
Lea dropped me back at
the pub in time for the evening meal and another pleasant few hours passed
among friends. Jane and Betty were quite smug about the arrangements for Sunday,
and would not tell us what had been planned, but popular (male) opinion had it
that Bruce and John would have their wallets surgically lightened in some
manner or other.
After a sound sleep we
awoke to a lovely, but windy Sunday. First stop was the Moriori marae, (with
proper directions!) a new $4million plus
structure atop a hill overlooking
Next we departed on
the girls’ secret mission – a 5 min drive took us to the local “artist in
residence”, a self taught lady who works in pastel and her work is
characterized by strong colours, stylized lines and curves, based around the
local wildlife. John and Bruce talked pig hunting with her husband, and Bill
and I listened to her describing the art and its development with the girls.
(see part two for the rest of the story)(ms)