A view that shows why this island is a paradise (foto: )
Sorry to take so long to bring this up to date, but since arriving back in Brazil, Gérard hasnt had many moments to write his diary!
24th September 2001 Praia (Cape Verde) Fernando de Noronha (Brazil) 2315 km
The day I arrived in Praia, capital of Cape Verde, there was a tremendous storm, with mudslides and all. It very very rarely rains in Cape Verde. Great, I thought. Just for me! I studied the weather and winds with the weather office on Ilha do Sal, in conjunction with Margi in Rio, for 48 hours. It didnt look good. The Sunday take-off had to be aborted not because of unfavourable winds but because of the unfriendly CBs right on Praia and to the South. Sunrise in Praia that day was 0723GMT (0623 local) and sunset in Noronha 2006GMT (1806 local) so with twilight at each end, I had approximately 13 hours of daylight to fly. The straight-line distance of 1242nm, plus 5% for deviations to avoid storms, made 1305 nm (some 2400 km). With the very heavy take-off weight under full fuel conditions, the best speed I could hope for initially would be 95 kt true airspeed or less – 13.7 hours flight time. Not counting backtracking to find a way through CBs. Since I had to fly in the dark at some stage and I preferred to avoid a night arrival, it meant a night take-off, which made me apprehensive with so many storms around. The Ximango is not equipped to fly at night and has no panel lights, obliging me to use a head flashlight to see the instruments. If I look up, the light shines on the windscreen and blinds my outside vision.
Daniel on duty at Sal informed me that on Monday the CBs would be well south of Praia, which gave me a green light. I arranged a taxi for 0415 local. He did not turn up! It was a 30 minute struggle with the hotel receptionist to find another no drivers were answering their phones! The city streets were deserted – it was ages before I came across a taxi. All this seemed a bad omen. It was after 5 am when I reached the airport, which made me furious. Then I lost more time at the Sala AIS, as they had forgotten to charge me an extra US$100 fee for the night operation. I finally took off at 0645 GMT, a miracle under the circumstances.
As forecast, there were no clouds initially as I climbed to 2000 ft to level off. I was very concerned with not using too much fuel, as tests of the previous day showed a sudden tendency to high consumption. Luckily, I had a tail wind and adjusted the throttle to the minimum possible setting to maintain 95 kts ground speed. Soon I managed a comfortable 100 kts which made me really happy. There was no moon, just a few stars to give me a vague sense of orientation. By 0730 GMT I was in complete daylight, and called Margi on the Nera phone to advise my departure time. I was to call André Sampaio on HF at 0830. André had talked Margi and I across the Atlantic 12 years ago going the other way. Here he was again, giving me coverage, this time with fantastic equipment and antenna. His signal was incredibly strong, and it was comforting to count on his help as I would lose contact with Dakar and Sal radios.
Early on, my spirits were high, the weather was excellent just some isolated CBs which were easily avoided with small heading corrections. The winds helped keep fuel consumption to a minimum. At 0910 I even came across a ship cruising in the opposite direction! I took note of his coordinates and direction, just in case. Then came bad news from Sal Radio on the HF. “There is a tropical depression forming at position Rakud, with expected winds of 50 kts, wind direction 130 degrees”. The message was repeated twice, with a heavy question at the end: “What are your intentions?” I think he expected me to advise of my immediate return to Praia. “Thanks for the information, I replied coolly – a façade for the radio, as I seriously considered turning back. I had expected to come across storms but not a tropical depression (from which hurricanes are born). Rakud position was beyond my point of no return 5 hours out. I was happy to tackle bad weather early in the flight when I could always go back to Praia but not at a stage where, if I could not pass, I would end up in the drink.
My first reaction was to call Margi to have her check the size and location of this storm so I could decide which way to deviate, right or left of track or if I should to fly back to Praia. For the next 2 hours, Margi, Lelo and André made dozens of calls to all the weather offices they could find and checked all sat photos they could came across. I kept flying to my point of no return to have the maximum chance of getting through. It was tough to look down at the waves and think I might have to fly back against the wind. I made up my mind to find a way through, whatever the news might be. The more I progressed towards Brazil with favourable winds, the more fuel reserves I was building up giving me larger scope for deviations. Soon news came from Andre and Margi that it was a tropical wave, not a tropical depression. That meant a series of CBs normal for the ITCZ. André relayed the information from Recife that winds over 30 kt were impossible in that weather context. So, on I went: Brazil, here I come. I was determined to handle what ever come at me. At 1045, I passed my point of no return. Shortly afterwards came the first battle with low clouds and rain. I deviated 30 degrees to the East as advised by Margi. “The systems are heavier to your right and are moving west, so always deviate to your left if you have to.” My speed dropped to 85 kts and I was using up fuel fast so I decide to tackle to beast head on. I came down from 2000 ft to 100 ft, slowed the airspeed to handle the turbulence, tightened my seatbelt, put away all cameras and equipment and prepared for the worst.
Seconds before entering the ominous curtain of rain, I checked the heading indicator to memorize what the heading would be to get out off the mess if it became unflyable. As I got into the rain, I lowered my altitude to keep the waves in sight at all times. I was 5-10 meters above them. At one stage, the altimeter read below zero, due to the change of atmospheric pressure. I set it to zero, so as to have a reference in case I lost visual contact with the water. As I had done many times in the Far East while fighting the monsoon, I chugged along just above the waves, concentrating intensely. A split second of inattention would be the end if the turbulence dipped one wing lower than the other. I struggled enormously to see through the rain pounding on the canopy.
Suddenly I lost visual contact. Unhesitatingly, I started my 180 degree turn and climb a few feet. This is the most dangerous moment. When banking tightly, the plane is prone to stall and the wing comes dangerously close to the water. It seemed to take ages to reach the 040 heading to get out, in total instrument conditions. Then I carefully lower the nose to lose the 200 ft gained during the turn. By the time the altimeter read 50 ft above the zero I set a while befpre, the waves were visible again. After I recovered my senses and relaxed for a few seconds, I chose a new heading of 090 to deviate round the rainstorm.
I tried again, and failed. Then at the third attempt, I managed get through after persisting over the water. In the next conversation with André and Margi, who had just discovered the NASA website with sat images updated every half hour instead of the usual 6 hour delay, they helped me locate the CBs. I faced another bout of bad weather, but got through easily flying at 300 ft. After that, I burst out under blue skies and so it continued for the rest of the flight. I climbed to 10000 ft, clocked 105 knots and even sometimes 110 kts for a couple of hours. The speed slowly dropped to 95 kts but by then I was sure I had enough fuel and was eager to get to home. At 1730, the auxiliary tanks were empty and I estimated only 2 hours to landing. I felt great. When at last that peak of Noronha appeared on the horizon, I was unspeakably happy. I declare it my favourite island of all time! Although I was tired, I couldnt resist circling the island to enjoy the sight of it and touched down at 1930 12hours 30 minutes after take-off.
André had not only helped me across the ocean, with his vigil and warm encouragement, but there he was to welcome me to his pousada. Fernando de Noronha Island is paradise at the best of times, but at the Pousada da Morena, in good company and treated to delicious pasta, I was in seventh heaven.
Perhaps no-one was more surprised than me that I had made across that ocean.
Este texto foi escrito por: Margi Moss
Last modified: setembro 28, 2001
