Over the din of the city streets I recognized the sound of an electronically modified Gorge Friedrich Handel work and knew it was my cellular phone. “Hello?” I answered. “Ron? Peter here” the voice on the other end responded. “Where are you?” Doesn’t this guy ever read my PIREPs? What does he think, that I write these blasted things just to keep my fingers loose? Sigh~ “Ummm, Panama Peter, I’ve been sleeping in the Adamjet. Why?” “Well mate,” Peter replies, “Because I’ve got a little ‘job’ for you in Papua New Guinea.”
After our brief discussion, I finish my meal and head back to the airport where, frankly, I’ve been spending too much time lately. I set about asking around for a flight to get me across the Pacific Ocean. Finally, 36 hours later, I had secured myself a right seat on an Evergreen International 757 which actually was hauling some cargo to one of those “middle-of-nowhere” places, a little island in the South Pacific called “Hao”. My pilot was a local named Alejandro and after he hand-flew the departure (pict1)I was glad that he let Otto have the controls. After several hours of conversation about flying and my flightsim missions with TooMuchFS Alejandro (he goes by the nickname “AIr” – minding the two Capital letters) let me make the landing. He assured me that with more than 10,000 feet of World War II-era runway I’d be fine but none-the-less I wanted to put down early just to be on the safe side. Indeed there were no problems. (pict2)
Living on the island there were two Americans, Tony and Dick. Although one had a bad back, they helped to unload their months’ worth of supplies, then Alejandro and the 757 left – returning to South America. Tony and Dick spent their days on the island racing stock cars and dragsters up and down the nearly 2-mile long runway and fishing in the near-by coral reefs. Once a month Alejandro brings them a supply of Chilean wine and other South American products – some of which I shouldn’t name in public! Anywayyyyyyy~ I needed to get the REST of the way across this vast ocean but, “Not to worry old boy” Dick said. They loaded me onto the front fender of a 1969 Chevy Camero and drove me to the north end of the island. There, near the control tower sat an old Eastern Airlines DC-8. (pict3)
“They landed here back in 1981,” Tony began, “lost the number three and had to make an emergency landing.” Dick continued, “Tony was on his way back from Guam and offered to stay with the plane. Eastern decided it was more work than it was worth so the other passengers were taken to Hawaii, Tony stayed behind.” Tony then jumped in, “We’ve been using parts off ‘er for our drag racing.” How about Dick? I heard myself asking. “Oh that~” they said in chorus. Tony began walking toward a nearby tree while he explained that Dick was actually over 150 years old, something about Beethoven’s first American Concert? Anyway, he had been on a sailing schooner ‘round 1894 or so that ran aground on the coral reefs just to the west – Dick was the only survivor (along with his dog that had died in 1978) and he’d been living off the salvaged supplies for 80-some-odd years before Tony arrived. What about World War II? “I don’t like Saki” was Dick’s only response.
“Anyway~” Tony smacked my arm, “I think we can use some parts off the old Fairlane to get that number three engine working for you again – then you can make it on to…where you going again?”
For the next three days there was little to do but snorkel and wade in the warm-water, coral pools, bask in the sun and listen to http://www.plr.org/ on the computer. Finally the old bird was ready and later that morning I taxied the DC-8 to the far north of the island and started my takeoff roll. With now some 13,000 feet of runway, 70% fuel and an anemic number-three, I mustered just enough speed to rotate off the runway. I turned west (pict4) and climbed, very slowly, up through FL220. Sure enough, in typical Ford fashion the engine lasted a full 35 minutes…now I was left with only three! A full day later, with just a few hundred gallons in the tanks, I found myself turning ATC’s serpentine approach procedures into Wellington, New Zealand. (And this is how they treat you with an engine out?) The first pass was high – I went missed. The second pass was poorly aligned and I went missed AFTER my left mains had touched. The third attempt worked just dandy! (pict5) Now, after dinner at a harbor-side restaurant I had three days to fly about New Zealand to my heart’s content.
Log book entry, Tuesday January 31st, 2006: “Up early to meet my FO, then on to Papua New Guinea. Downloads completed. Alaska’s “Seahawk” 727 ready to go (to the Super Bowl) with the “Island” Dash-8 waiting at Port Moresby. Departure at 06:30 this AM with 2,500 miles to go.”
In the pilot’s lounge at Jackson’s I meet a Mr. Bill Smith who came with good recommendations as an experienced pilot. I told him that we’d be flying a 727 for this leg and while he didn’t seem thrilled; he reluctantly conceded that he was type-rated. Together we logged in our route heading northwest out of Wellington, direct to Port Moresby – about 2,500 miles. As we stepped out into the early morning light Bill stopped in his tracks. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “I won’t fly in that Mate” Bill replied. “What?” “That horrible paint scheme” Bill continued, “I wouldn’t be caught dead in that thing! Besides, American Football is for babies!”
In the pilot’s lounge at Jackson’s I meet a Mr. Bill Smith who came with good recommendations as an experienced pilot. I told him that we’d be flying a 727 for this leg and while he didn’t seem thrilled; he reluctantly conceded that he was type-rated. Together we logged in our route heading northwest out of Wellington, direct to Port Moresby – about 2,500 miles. As we stepped out into the early morning light Bill stopped in his tracks. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “I won’t fly in that Mate” Bill replied. “What?” “That horrible paint scheme” Bill continued, “I wouldn’t be caught dead in that thing! Besides, American Football is for babies!”
Finally, after threatening to make him listen to banjo music, Bill conceded – but he refused to do the walk-around. Finally, with the fuel loaded and confirmed and all passengers secured we pushed back and taxied out for a north departure. (pict6) We climbed up to our final cruise altitude of 35,000 feet and had an otherwise uneventful flight in to Port Moresby, arriving around lunch time. (pict7) Bill and I met up with another Aussie, Peter who briefed us on the FOTM. I was disappointed to hear that after the first leg into Safia our rides would be confiscated - I was looking forward to flying the Dash-8 in Pacific Airways’ Island livery. With a full month at my disposal and some 20 airports in the Add-on package I figured I should make good use of my time. I “bagged” the recommended flightplans and set in my own little tour, roughly making a counter-clockwise flight through, over and around New Guinea.
LEG 1 = Port Moresby to Safia: I flew this flight solo, (pict8) no co-pilot, and upon my arrival (since my plane was being taken away anyway) I took a tour of the off-limits military section of the airport. “Nice C-130 but…isn’t it a bit small?”
LEG 2 = Safia to Cape Rodney: I had planned on staying in Safia overnight to complete some paperwork but that afternoon I saw a Beech Starship out on the ramp and had to go check it out. It was owned by a Canadian missionary named Brad who kindly asked if I’d like a tour. As I was sitting in the cockpit, in the right seat, I asked Brad about the handcuffs which hung from the yoke. “Oh that~” he laughed. “Once there was this guy named Tony…apparently he didn’t like to fly much…” Suddenly, with cat-like reflexes Brad had shackled me to the plane! “HA!” he shouted, “Now YOU’RE my co-pilot!!!” Despite my protesting Brad was hell-bent on kidnapping me. He closed the doors, fired the engines, called the tower and started taxiing, all in about 90 seconds. I figured I’d better strap in for a scary ride…which it was! (pict9) We did however arrive safely in Cape Rodney at which point Brad pulled out his keys, unlocked the hand-cuffs and pointed to the door, signaling “SHHHHHH~” with his other finger. As I sprinted off to the safety of the terminal Brad shouted after me, “Not a word Amigo, not – a – word.”
LEG 3 = Cape Rodney to Gurney: At this point I only wanted to get away from this Brad fellow so I boarded a 738 (as a passenger). Captain Kirk (this is his real name – I thought at first it was a joke) piloted us safely through the dark to Gurney where I was able to spend my first night, a hot and steamy one – not because of any company I was keeping, in New Guinea.
LEG 4 = Gurney to Girua: The next morning, after breakfast, I was touring the great Vintage Aircraft Displays at Gurney when I noticed a familiar-looking livery on a Jetstream31. 
Making my way over to the plane, I spotted the same Captain Kirk that had piloted me here in the 737. He said that he needed a pilot to run some ferry flights to Girua. Of course, I offered and was briefed on the routing and airport information. I left Gurney at 10:45 AM (pict10) and enjoyed a very scenic flight over Sehulea, Esa’ala and Salamo on my way into Girua. (pict11)
Making my way over to the plane, I spotted the same Captain Kirk that had piloted me here in the 737. He said that he needed a pilot to run some ferry flights to Girua. Of course, I offered and was briefed on the routing and airport information. I left Gurney at 10:45 AM (pict10) and enjoyed a very scenic flight over Sehulea, Esa’ala and Salamo on my way into Girua. (pict11)LEG 5 = Girua to Finschhafen: That afternoon I met a young man from Britain named Alastair (a right proper British name eh?) who was more than kind enough to show me some of the military aircraft on display at Girua. The next morning he offered to give me a ride in an old USAF DC-3 - How could I resist THAT? Alastair manned the controls as we took a scenic tour of PNG’s northeastern territories. (pict12) We passed through some majestic mountains to the remote strip at Woitape. After a low pass there we continued on over Garaina. Then, “something special” Alastair teased…A pass over the mountain mining strip at Bulolo. The blasting holes were quite amazing but the approach didn’t look nearly as tough as Woitape would have been – that place is a one-way-in kind of strip! Finally, we turned to the coast where some cloud layers awaited us, finally landing over the city of Finschhafen (sounds German). (pict13) Alastair bade me farewell after suggesting some other good airstrips to check out.
LEG 6 = Finschhafen to Kandep via Mount Hagen and Morol: From here it was VERY TEMPTING to head to Rabaul were four of us passed through last year on a world-tour…http://www.flightsim.com/cgi/kds/main/feature/rtw2.htm but alas, I needed to remain focused on this FOTM. I made my way over to the little FBO and showed my TooMuchFS papers to the In Charge guy-behind-the-counter. He granted me pilotship of an Eastern Airlines CRJ-200.
The crew assured me that I could make it into most any airfield in the immediate area. With this that vote of confidence to boost me, I was off!I enjoyed the flight through the mountains very much and was getting more comfortable with the little RJ. I passed near several other little strips on the way into a touch-and-go through Mount Hagan (pict14) then I was off to the little lakeside strip at Morol (Now I forgot the actual name of the place!) before turning back to Kandep where I landed safely. (pict15)
LEG 7 = Kandep to Port Moresby via the whole rest of the island: There is a little FBO here, some cool totems, an information center and some outdoor eating areas. As I relaxed and walked around this high-altitude airport I found a building with a giant bolt-lock on double-sliding doors. I peered through the dirty windows and saw tarpaulins over large, aircraft-looking shapes. I tried the back doors, tried the windows, tried not to look too mischievous and then gave the big bolt lock a little tug…it popped right open. I pushed the heavy door open slightly and squeezed through into the darkened and dusty building.
There in a corner of the little paint shop, covered in dusty old tarpaulins, was a Star Wars’ X-Wing fighter. I was intrigued and began removing the coverings. Before too long I found myself sitting in the cockpit. There on the floor was a little operating manual but it looked to be written in something like Klingon! \‘-- >/ ~”, \\]_’ -/ ]^\ ,<, ^<’/ [_-=--\ --_! Okay, forget that…but I did see a couple of diagrams. In a dreamlike-state I saw myself playing and tinkering around with switches and knobs. Suddenly the cold-fusion motors whined and hummed to life. I felt my hands on the controls and smoothly I taxied out of the building. (not sure how I got those big doors open but I assure you that no one else was around.) Once clear of the doors I gently advanced the throttles and was suddenly airborne. In seconds I was climbing through FL680! (That’s no type-o my friends, it was 68,000 feet and beyond!) I carefully descended back to a more “normal” VFR altitude and headed south back over the main island. Feeling somehow impervious to danger I flew through narrow canyons and over steep mountains. I climbed and spiraled, then plummeted down again…I followed little rivers through the jungle and buzzed many a little airstrip. This I did all the way back to Port Moresby (pict16) where after a couple of practice passes I got the directional thrusters figured out (no control surfaces on the X-Wing friends, it’s all throttles and nozzles) I was able to make a smooth landing in the grass. (pict17) This proved to be quite the fun little craft - it can take you from nearly V/STOL to MACH 3+.
LEG 8 = Port Moresby to Guadalcanal: The next morning my earlier desire to tour the scenic nearby islands had won-out and I e-mailed the Flight Club asking them to meet me in Guadalcanal. I took an EF-111 north to the historic collection of nearby islands made famous during World War II. (pict18)
LEG 9 = Guadalcanal to Manila: By the end of the month my little tour of Papua New Guinea (and surrounding areas) was finally over. I gathered all of my Flight Club friends together under the sprawling wings of the B-29 Superfort and told them that we’d be going for a short little holiday in the Philippines. We left Guadalcanal later that same afternoon – (pict19)stepping back into history for a flight to Manila on this great old bird. (pict20)
Peter, this was a great FOTM – I love the mesh and the add-ons are okay. I will certainly be keeping this on my hard drive and I’ll be planning on returning here again for more fun in the tropics! Thanks for another GREAT FOTM!!!!
Cub Flounder
