Cairns ’10

‘Another journey into the unexpected’

OR

‘Frogs, Locusts, Magnetos and Rain. A Plague on you!’

It’s a long way from one end of Australia to another, good planning and a well maintained aircraft should leave nothing to talk about except a little scenery along the way. It had been a couple of years since I’d done this trip and another invite to speak was enough of an excuse to make the flight again.

After a lot of planning and another 150 bucks worth of maps I was good to go but the weather had gone crazy. Finding a window in a straight line over twenty seven hundred kilometres just wasn’t happening. Cairns was continually blocked with rain, cyclones and more rain. The middle of Queensland had had severe flooding with half the contents of Sydney Harbour dumped on one region in a couple of days. That’s what the locals tell you, last I heard there was still plenty of boats still floating around in Sydney. There was something about plagues of little animals due to all the rain. Seemed silly, next thing you know we’ll have volcanos and half of Europe grounded due to airborne ash. Now that‘s never going to happen, right?

When a hole opened for the flight I jumped at it. Seems I could go a bit over half way, camp for the night and another narrow passage would get me into the far North Queensland city of Cairns. To be honest I was more nervous about procedures at an International airport than all the miles in-between.

There were a few question marks with my oil consumption and I was trying a lighter grade which meant I’d just do the three hour run to Bourke and land for a levels check. In the air before 9am and what a tail wind. Ah the Gods were finally smiling at me. With a new Hetzler silver bullet pushing me along, that’s a propeller by the way, my ground speed was around 175knots and topping 180 at times. Happy days!

Bourke had a surprise. A swam of locusts of biblical proportions greeted me on final. Nothing I could do about it except watch the red smears coat the canopy with little impacts like ping pong balls. You can bet I was planning a long look at my P-51 intake to see what the air filter might have collected. I’m sure fuel, air and grasshopper were not specified in the engine operating manual. Oil was OK, I topped her up anyway as I had another five hours to run and any extra would go out the breather. Not enough oil was something you just don’t do on purpose.

An hour or so down the track it was starting to get interesting. I had cloud at around 4,000 feet and rising terrain. There were plenty of holes between the fluff and over rather than under made sense. Pretty soon the light cloud above at around 6,000 was going from just a few, to scattered and then with a little more time became a solid ceiling. The holes below were getting my attention. It was looking dark down there and up above was still the place to be. Scooting between the layers I still had a few hours to run. It seemed to be getting brighter and brighter, the glare from the pure white clouds had me checking to see if I did in fact have my sunnies on. The gap between the layers was narrowing as the brightness increased. It was like going down a long tunnel that spread thinly to the horizon. Lets see, long tunnel, filled with bright light all I need were a few departed friends and I’d have the classic near death experience. If the holes below closed off any more I’d be placing myself a little closer to everything going a brilliant white and finding myself on the clocks in IFR territory. Not smart. Smart was down through one of these holes back into the gloom where up was up, down was down and the ground you can see is what you won’t fly into.

It did seem a long way as I spiralled a couple of thousand feet into a new world of darkness, low cloud and well defined earth. The trees were nice and close, I had a couple of thousand indicated so maybe 1,500 foot clearance. I could happily go for hours like this. Then the rain started.

The prop maker had told me slow to 2200rpm or less and you might lose a bit of paint but all would be fine. After grinding a little timber from the last prop with wet weather flying I was taking these instructions seriously. As I slowed the aircraft the GPS was giving bigger numbers with time to run to my destination of Longreach. I really wanted a look at the Qantas museum there having missed it on my last trip.

Over two hours in light rain. It felt possible if things stayed the same and quite enjoyable with the close terrain flowing past and a really close look at a very green country that used to be brown. Nothing stays the same forever, or even a little while. Bit by bit I was being forced lower thanks to the solid grey mass above me, ground level was probably now a touch under 1000 feet. Still OK until I started noticing just a few small patches of cloud hanging lightly near the ground. I’d had several alternates in mind and had already altered track slightly to keep each one a little closer. While I still had options I chose to turn east and head to Charleville about 50 miles away. The Met I had for the day did give light showers and they were telling the truth. Light maybe, but too low for my plans of longevity.

Charleville had me at around circuit height from a fair way out and I made all the appropriate calls to absolutely no one. The smart pilots were already on the ground. An uneventful landing as I guess even the locusts were sheltering somewhere. The boys from Shell Oil were fixing the fuel bowser so after getting pretty wet tying my girl down we had a good chat while I sheltered next to their truck. I’ve been to Charleville a few times enroute to the north, I’d planned a different route yet here I was again. They always remember the plane, not the pilot for some reason. Little birds were lined up on sheltered handrails, even they were adapting to the big wet.

Getting a room for the night was a challenge. The recent floods that destroyed many homes and caused major damage throughout. The town had a lot of construction workers taking up available beds. The guys at the airport are really helpful and very friendly. There is a free phone with a speed dial for accommodation and a computer set up for weather and flight plans. This is a good place for a pilot to get things sorted.

I found a room and used my phone’s internet blue toothed to my laptop for weather and a few emails. The reception was less than good but working. How did we ever manage without this stuff?

Next day the weather ahead was looking OK for a morning run to my destination. I had planned to be a lot closer and still had a good five hours to get in. With fuel to spare, I made my way across the vast expanses of inland Queensland, low and fast. It really had turned completely green with vegetation and signs of water everywhere. Farm houses were occasional and each airstrip gets a new waypoint on my GPS. In between there are few signs of man and a reminder that we are just visitors here.

An hour out of Cairns I started getting my head around the procedures. Radio chatter was suggesting instrument approaches. As I crossed east towards the coast the mountains of the Great Dividing Range began to close the gap between cloud and ground. It was starting to look a little tight and I called Cairns Approach for an airways clearance at Mareeba as planned. Hey, they were busy so as instructed I started doing a few circles. One or two turned into quite a few. I did use the word ‘unfamiliar’ and to be fair that did delay the process. Next stop was Stoney Creek, not that you can really stop in the air. Given I was still an unfamiliar I got to hold again and practice maintaining height while enjoying the view. I was almost in cloud and just above the low point in the hills that the inbound point is. In reality its 1500’. You see its all the stuff next to it at the same height or higher that gets your attention. I was given some traffic to spot and follow in as ‘Number two’. I saw the traffic, followed at nearly 150kts and he disappeared into the distance. Definitely need a faster plane to mix it with the big boys.

Landing on a huge runway is fun and they seem to make such a fuss to ensure we don’t bump into each other. There was plenty of room for a formation. I taxied to the GA tie down area and felt the Cairns humidity seep into every joint. Somehow I’d made it through all the weather and in time to do my talks on the weekend. It was all good. It turned out I had chosen the best day for some time to get in despite a few challenges enroute.

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A week later and it was looking like I might never get home. My talks done, I was staying with wonderful people yet it was still just plain hot. Overall you can measure a town by how many sushi places they have and Cairns gets a big thumbs up from me despite a tendency for dehydration. That aside, every day was a weather watch. I seem to remember my last two trips North had me wishing for an IFR rating. Its always the same, a build up around the coast, but if you can get through a good run to the south is possible every few days. First step in the rating is to just throw a lot of money at the plane for a couple of new toys. No one cares if you have passed your exams without them.

On the Tuesday I realised late afternoon the low clouds hanging over the hills were giving way and I could have snuck out for at least the short run to Longreach. Wednesday looked even better. That is until it really was Wednesday and my 10am plan was shrouded in very low cloud and rain. Even the local hill at around 800’ had a grey fluffy hat. My host and I did breakfast instead, then we had her car looked at and walked home, walked back to the car place, then drove back to the airport. It was still ugly out there but a little better, I even saw a bit of blue hiding behind all that low stuff. A chat with the local jump plane pilot turned impassable low clouds into a pleasing passageway. All I had to do was ride out the turbulence between the hills at the outbound point and I’d be fine from there.

I saddled up, did my thing on the radio, sounding only slightly more confident than the last time. What is this thing with controllers? What strange powers do they have to intimidate with the slightest change in tone? Two huge RTP’s were backtracking as I lined up for an immediate intersection departure. The runway was perfect, I lost reference to speed changes and had to watch my numbers. What usually felt like 20 knots was 60, that was one smooth runway.

My flight plan had 4,500 as cruise altitude, I should have put in something lower for departure. It was easy, ask for a block clearance 2,000 to 3,000 feet then a nice voice repeats what I say for a change. The local advice was spot on and I was soon riding the bucking hills on my way to cleaner air at Mareeba and out of controlled airspace.

Anything further south than Longreach was going to be wet and even so, huge thunderstorms were forming while the well defined scattered showers were easily dodged. There were a few rainbows enroute and I’d learnt that those pretty things always have a bit of moisture nearby, best avoided or the only pot of gold would be the one I supply to get propellers refinished.

An easy landing at Longreach and I just had to sort out a room for the night. Directions to the nearby motel were given by someone perhaps unsure of where things are in life, then it was a long wait while the mysteries of a computer screen appeared equally difficult for check-in. By the time I made it to my room and then back to the airport Qantas Museum they were just closing. Of course they open a little late the next day for a pilot with 900kms still to run. Another excuse for a trip back.

Strange things were happening at the motel that night. I reached up for the light switch and my hand came back wet and had just encountered something cool and squishy. I’m glad it was a green frog. They were everywhere. Another one of those plagues that seem to be popular this year. I looked in the shower recess and little brown things scuttled down the drain, then something brown was hoping around the toilet. More frogs, fortunately. I guess after it rains cats and dogs then come the …frogs.

Off to dinner with my maps to plan alternates for the next day. I had the current Met and wanted more options. I’d forgotten my pencil so asked the waitress if she had a spare one. She was pretty busy but dug one up. It was broken and unusable. It was her last pencil. I asked if she could sharpen it but she said that was not possible. I asked if there was a knife I could use. She said no. I asked if there might be any knives in the kitchen that we could use. She said, no there weren’t any knives in the kitchen. I have to admit that was a bit surprising. Maybe they were busy making food with their light sabres or something. I got the hint and walked back to my room for a functioning pencil. It seems when you get really busy the brain shuts down, I’ll have to remember that for my radio work in future. I did feel sorry for her, she was pretty much running the whole place while whatever happened in the knifeless kitchen stayed behind closed doors.

That night I made peace with all the frogs in the room, asked them to ensure they ate the spiders and other creepy crawlies for me and if they could please just hang out anywhere except the bed. Their tasty legs were safe from me, after all, its not like I had a knife.

I was up very early the next morning, in the beautiful smooth air before 8am and very happy that I was on my way home. It was the only really good flying day that allowed a run without rain for at least another week. It was one of those times in the air when you can relax, trim her out for nearly hands off flying and just enjoy the scenery and settle back. The first 90 minutes were magic over unspoilt countryside teaming with new growth from the rains. Just as I was stretching my knees something happened to the engine.

It lost about 30 revs and then after a few seconds came back again. That got my attention, maybe a little water in the fuel or a speck of dust or something. It was not my imagination, my little Lycoming had spoken a word of unhappiness. I was feeling her.

Ten minutes later it happened again. Ok, I have a problem. A few more minutes and there it is again, a rev drop, a pause and then a return. It started happening regularly. I did the usual of carb heat on, fuel pump on, change tanks, I tried full rich then leaned out even more, different rev settings. No change, the fault continued. I looked at landing options and had already checked that Cunnamulla had fuel and someone in attendance. It follows that there would be some sort of maintenance guy around and this was the closest good runway.

I called up Brisbane centre for area QNH and while I was at it asked if I could do a reporting schedule. Was I on a mercy flight or essential services or a fiery or something if no, then no can do. Unless of course I say the magic words. Well I wasn’t going to declare an emergency. That’s when it goes very quiet and I was still flying nicely, its just this little engine issue. He did tell me I could still report in whenever I liked which seemed a good idea. Then we decided to make a SAR (search and rescue) time 30 minutes after my estimated ETA. That was a really good idea except I was almost out of radio range. Next thing I know I’m getting a relay from a Cathay Pacific jet flying at some ridiculous height. Those guys have seriously good radios. It sounded like he was in my back seat.

The engine continued its stuttering speech all the way to Cunnamulla. Maybe not my most comfortable flight. SAR was cancelled via Captain Big Jet and things were very quiet on the ground. The airport looked like an abandoned set from a low budget Aussie movie. A few old sheds, no one around and no mobile phone reception in the middle of nowhere. Of course it had one of those new security fences all around and a code on the gate. Not sure if it was to keep people in or out. Rebooted the phone and got some action. The fuel guy was in town, no there were no aircraft people he knew of but maybe he could send out the local car mechanic? Oh and he was a bit busy but I’d find a number for a taxi at the ‘airport building’. There were at least a dozen beautiful hawks flying low level around the field, grasshoppers everywhere and at least all the local flies wanted to be my new best friend. That was a start.

I found help at Charleville about an hour away and I hung around while the maintenance guy there got some local advice and called me back with options. In the meantime I saw what looked like a piece of costume jewellery on the ground. Very colourful and unusual. Then it moved. I grabbed a few pictures as it hopped away into the bushes. Some sort of cute frog.

I had to decide if I’d risk a flight as there was no way I’d be getting help for days where I was and even then someone would have to fly in. We worked out it might be the ignition system and planes do have two of them just for this sort of situation I thought. The map showed a major road going direct between the two towns that I could land on if I had too. I should have headed straight for Charleville in the first place, it seems to have a big magnet for my Long-EZ.

The fault continued all the way, I watched the road, stayed high, made it easily and we soon had cowls off looking for simple answers. By the end of the day we’d done filters, spark plugs and compression tests. I gave the mechanic a ride when we checked our work. The fault was still there and it did point to the magneto. My GIB (guy in the back) had designed engines and worked mostly in racing so had a few clues.

The next day with professional assistance I had choices. Use my still flying plane and risk the mag failing or wait around for two or three weeks while we sent the part away for testing and evaluation. I had resigned myself to being stuck so could look dispassionately at the options. It was less than five hours direct to home. Of course the weather window had closed in Melbourne but was still OK enroute almost all the way.

The remaining ignition was electronic and hadn’t missed a beat since installation two years ago. Mags are know for regular failures and despite a recent check mine had become unhappy. What were my odds of both the E.I. failing and then regular mag dying completely in the next few hours of flight?

I liked the odds and was soon back in the air. Flying high and picking paddocks and landing options all the way, it was perhaps not my most comfortable flight despite the fantastic scenery. I still enjoyed it. The fault continued for a couple of hours and then fixed itself for the rest of the trip. A self healing engine, my favourite kind! I remained vigilant and was pretty happy to get to Seymour just out of Melbourne when the weather turned ugly.

I had the option always of returning to Mangalore but pressed on back to Moorabbin in time for a wind change and heavy rain. I was bounced from one controller to another and planned runways were changed as I tracked overhead. I do prefer to come in, have a good look at things, make my own decisions on runways and just fly the plane. Not so in a tower environment where orders are given yet as pilot in command you remain responsible for outcomes. It just means a personal scenario and the one you are given both need to be evaluated at once. In my experience so far, the tower gets it right, they are very competent at Moorabbin. I was all out of adrenaline anyway, did what I was told as best I could and landed pretty long in the wet.

Happily off the runway I even had a friendly enquiry as to where I’d come in from. Made it to my parking spot and sat in the plane for 30 minutes as the rain passed through. I was very happy to be home.

You know that funny little animal at Cunnamulla turned out to be a Notaden bennettii (Crucifix toad). Its a burrowing frog that must have decided to check out the world after rain and that doesn’t happen often up North. These guys can stay under the soil for several months or even years! I now have two people with PhD’s in these matters, my Cairns hosts, very jealous.