With few exceptions, Africa’s airlines continue to fail at the basic tasks of providing sustainable air connectivity.
THE DECEMBER 2024 IATA outlook for the airline industry states that “African carriers will achieve a USD0.2bn profit in 2025 with a net USD1.00 profit per passenger.”
But this statement is misleading as almost all this profit will come from less than five airlines. Other than Ethiopian and possibly SAA V2.0, every other stateowned airline can be expected to report the usual losses that come from bad management and political interference.
IATA points out that a significant issue is a shortage of US dollars in some economies which, along with infrastructure and connectivity challenges, hinder the airline industry’s expansion and performance. Despite these obstacles, there is sustained demand for air travel, which is expected to improve the region’s profitability marginally in 2025.”
The African Airlines Association (AFRAA) and IATA have agreed a joint work programme which includes five key objectives:
Promoting air connectivity by working with governments to support the implementation of the Single African Air Transport Market (SAATM). The big idea is to get the 23 countries which have committed to SAATM to actually do something to enable it. And also, to encourage more countries to join SAATM.
a shopping list of fixes for African airlines
IATA cannot be accused of ignoring what globally is the almost irrelevant African airline industry, which amounts to just 2% of the world’s airline flights. IATA’s latest efforts to assist with Africa’s manifold failures is its Focus Africa initiative, which somewhat abstractly aims to “maximize the contribution of aviation to development across Africa by better serving passengers and shippers.” Focus Africa aims to do this by getting private and public stakeholders committed to delivering measurable improvements in six key result areas: safety, infrastructure, connectivity, finance and distribution, sustainability, and skills development.
It reads like a shopping list of fixes for the beleaguered African airline industry.
The second objective is to unblock airline funds held by governments. In December IATA reported about $1 billion of airline money blocked from repatriation is in African countries. That is 59% of the global amount.
Where IATA has been spectacularly successful is in improving the once disastrous African aviation safety record by creating the IATA Operational Safety Audit (IOSA).
The fourth objective is to achieve reasonable levels of taxes and charges by focusing governments on the long-term social and economic benefits of aviation. User charges in Africa are 8% higher than the global average.
The fifth objective is to support compliance with the Carbon Offsetting and Reduction Scheme for International Aviation (CORSIA). It bears noting though that the CORSIA objective is probably the least likely to succeed as Africa has little will or capacity to pay these taxes.
And thus will African aviation remain a special case requiring constant remediation.
YOU HAVE CONTROL
I had to hire a car the other day. It was a brand new Ford Fiesta Ghia with a six speed manual gear box. It has keyless ignition and the engine stops automatically if the driver doesn’t touch the accelerator for more than three seconds. Then it starts immediately the driver touches the pedal again.
MY NORMAL CAR is a 32-year-old Tornado Red 5-door VW Golf GTi with a sunroof and a five-speed manual gearbox box. It is a little rocket and we have had it from brand new out of the showroom. But I was understandably interested to see if I could handle this cutting-edge new technology Ford Fiesta, after thirty-two-years of driving the previous generation.
In actual fact, once I had worked out how to open the door, I was pleasantly surprised. The gear lever and the pedals were all in the right places. The steering wheel did as it was told and the seat was comfortably supportive. Once I had got used to the engine stopping and starting all the time, the only things to watch out for were the brakes... just think about touching the brake pedal and the car would screech to a halt in one car-length.
It didn’t matter that one car was built in Germany, thirty-two years previously and the other one was state-of-the-art, built in England, the driving position was virtually identical and that brought me round to thinking about aeroplanes.
jokingly suggested they stick them on the ceiling
Hardly any aircraft share familiar flight deck arrangements. Even similar types, made by the same manufacturer have very different lay-outs. For example, the Twin Otter, built in Canada by de Havilland, basically shares the wings and the fuselage of the Single Otter but it seems that when they got to the cockpit they suddenly said,
“Where are we going to put the engine controls?”
The brakes on the old Golf are good, don’t get me wrong, but you do have to stamp on the pedal to get the feeling that there is a definite connection between foot and brake disc.
And the Chief Engineer, without looking up from his drawing board, jokingly suggested that they just stick them up somewhere on the ceiling.
So they shrugged their shoulders and did as they were told...and the funny thing was that it worked!
All the control cables could be much shorter and did not go round half as many corners. The throttle and propeller levers operated smoothly and were easy to adjust and synchronise and even the pilots seemed to enjoy hanging from the roof like their primate ancestors.
In fact it works so well that they decided just to copy the layout of the Buffalo, which is the Twin Otter’s elder brother.
Now that sounds like a sensible way to lay out the flight controls. But you might be mistaken for disagreeing if you had spent your previous years flying a Piper Cub.
they turned all the switches round the wrong way
One company for whom I was flying actually imported four Twin Otters from Australia. They say that Australians are all upside-down, but you can’t really build a Twin Otter upside-down. So, as if to prove a point, they just turned all the Australian switches round the wrong way. The ones on the flight deck ceiling were all ‘Forwards’ for ‘Off’ and the panel switches were anybody’s guess...up...down...sideways...just give it a try and see what happens.
Which reminds me about my adventures Flying a Luscombe Silvaire with the crossed ailerons.
The Cub is about as different from the Buffalo as it is from a Space Shuttle. The only things which are similarly placed are the rudder pedals. Even the brakes are the wrong end of the feet, unless you have either had your brakes or your feet modified.
Anyway, in some ways that was easier not knowing what any of the switches were going to do in the Australian Twin Otters. Which makes me wonder how they ‘drive’ something like a SpaceX capsule once it is out of the Earth’s atmosphere. I mean, you can’t just give it a nudge of left aileron or a couple of degrees of rudder to the west...presumably that doesn’t work in space, so I think that I will just stick with what I know, even if the switches aren’t sure.
Toerien Hendrik White River, Nelspruit 013 751 3848 hctoerien@viamediswitch.co.za
NEWS LARGEST EVER RHINO RELOCATION
Specialist air cargo operator ACS mobilised all its skills to successfully complete a very challenging project
– the translocation of 39 White Rhino from Namibia to the USA.
IN NOVEMBER Air Charter Service (ACS) helped in the transportation of 39 white rhinoceroses from Namibia to Dallas, USA, for three specific breeding programmes to aid the conservation of the unique genetics of the country’s species. This was not just a feat of logistics, but also of compliance with treaties such as CITES.
Lyndee du Toit, CEO of ACS Africa, commented: “The purpose of this project is to responsibly and ethically conserve the endangered white rhino population and preserve the Namibian rhinos’ unique genetics against poaching. It is the largest translocation of rhino ever undertaken and required many months of careful planning, working in close collaboration with the conservation and relocation company and the airline.
“Over the past few years we have been involved in several flights transporting these magnificent creatures, so are wellversed in what is required from our side.
In 2021 we arranged a charter to move 30 rhinos from a South African reserve to their new home in Rwanda, in what was then the largest single translocation project. This latest flight, with 39, becomes the most rhinos ever to have flown on one aircraft.
“There was an intricate load plan to fit all the oversize containers on board the
Boeing 747, but once aboard, the team of veterinarians were able to personally look after the creatures for the duration of the flight to the United States.
A fuel stop in Sal, Cape Verde, was necessary due to the rhinos combined weight of 80 tons, before landing at Dallas Fort Worth Airport, where they were unloaded under the full supervision of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, before their onward journeys.”
The rhinos have all now been released from their quarantine bomas and are doing well in their new environments.
Rhinos ready to load in Windhoek.
AFTERMATH of the Engine Fire
Iris McCallum continues her stories about her early years with Air Kenya. This month she tells us about the immediate aftermath of her dramatic engine fire and crash, and her subsequent ‘getting back onto the saddle’.
MY PASSENGERS AND I got safely out and away from the burning aircraft, and we only stopped running when we thought we would be safe from any explosions. Maybe we had watched too many movies.
As I looked back at the burning aircraft, I noticed that the people from Miseleni village were swarming towards the wreck, attracted by all the noise and strangers ‘dropping in’. We were a safe distance away, but they wouldn’t be if they got too close. I shouted to them in Kiswahili “Rudi nyuma! Rudi nyuma!” (Get back. Get back)!
With the fire almost under control, I crawled back into the aircraft and took out the fire extinguisher which I used on the still-smouldering wing leading edge. I also removed our cool box of drinks together with my flight bag, medical box and the passengers’ personal articles.
I looked as if I had been in a fist fight
I asked one of the young men to collect buckets, or karais (big dishes) so that we could attempt to use sand to put out the fire around the aircraft. Being February, it was the dry season and the bushes were very dry and flammable.
In no time at all the villagers arrived with buckets and greatly assisted in putting the fire out. Fortunately the burning fuel and oil had gone downhill, away from the aircraft.
I did not know how long we would have to wait to be rescued. We were in the rural countryside and not much traffic would be coming along this road.
My last radio contact had been with Nairobi Approach, but I had made no further calls once we had crashed on the road. I had switched everything electrical off and was loathe to switch anything on again in case of a spark.
My passengers were great. They all shook my hand and thanked me. I asked my passengers if they were okay, and I saw that one of the men had a deep scratch on his left shoulder. He allowed me to clean it with Dettol and put a gauze covering on the wound. It was starting to sink in how lucky we all were.
We set up camp on the side of the road and waited. After a while an aircraft arrived and circled us. We all waved madly, as did all the friendly Miseleni Villagers. It flew around us approximately three or four times and then headed back to Nairobi.
After four hours of waiting, I heard a vehicle approaching and decided to beg a lift. I ran out into the road and the driver stopped. He was a friendly man called Musyoki and he had no passengers. His vehicle was a pickup with a weatherproof cover on the back and a passenger seat.
I asked him if he was heading for Nairobi and could he give us all a lift? He agreed and so I put one passenger in the front and the rest of us climbed into the back. I asked him to take us to the nearest police post as I needed to let the authorities know so that the aircraft could be guarded for the Kenya Civil Aviation Authority to inspect, and hopefully determine what had caused our engine fire.
The nearest police post was Ol Donyo Sabuk. It was very small with just a constable manning the desk. I told him that I had come to report an accident. He
looked at me querulously as my right cheek had started to swell and my right hand knuckles were raw. I guess I must have looked as if I had been in a fist fight. When we crashed one of the radios had popped out the avionics stack and hit me on the cheek, and my right hand on the throttle had been forced violently forward.
The constable asked me about my vehicle and I explained it was an aeroplane. The policeman said that he had received a message via VHF that we had all been killed. He added that a police Land Rover had been despatched to the crash with body bags, but it had overturned and two of its passengers had been killed.
At any rate he was very happy to see that we were alive. We made short work of a statement and continued our journey back to Wilson Airport, with Musyoki as our Captain.
We had got airborne that morning from Wilson at 0530Z (0830 local). When we walked back through the doors of Air Kenya it was 1630 local. A long day for all of us.
Iris inspecting the C401 wreckage.
PILOTS
The Operations staff, Valerie Ellis and Lynnette, couldn’t believe that we were real. “You must be ghosts. They told us you were all dead,” they said.
They were really happy to see us and organised a first-class payment to Musyoki, the van driver, for his fantastic help.
One of our other pilots, Paul de Voest was in the Pilots Room and came out the moment he heard us. I got the biggest and best hug ever from him.
Paul organised us much needed sustenance and provided calmness. He took care of the passengers. He tasked Val Ellis to ask them for Statements, which they were happy to give. Tea, coffee and sandwiches, whatever was needed, was laid on. The passengers were naturally also keen to get back to their family and friends.
When I was ready to explain what had happened, Paul sat me down and wrote my CAA report out for me. All I had to do was sign it. But this took time – and a toll on my nerves.
There was no talk of counselling for post traumatic stress.
Iris in the Mara with Piper Navajo 5Y-IHC.
Where romance meets nature
Located in South Africa’s Safari hub of Hoedspruit, Safari Moon is a boutique base from which to discover the wonders of South Africa’s Lowveld region. Explore a range of nearby attractions from the famed Kruger National park to the scenic Panorama Route, or simply chose to relax and unwind in nature, making the most of your private piece of Wildlife Estate wilderness.
HELICOPTER PILOTS SHOULD UNIONISE
Helicopter pilots are stuck in a 12-month flying cycle. While they will have periods of rest and active rest (performing ground-based tasks and planning ventures) within their work source campaigns, it’s not a good situation. They need programmed periods to catch their breath.
IPROPOSE THAT AN ALIGNED national helicopter pilots flying calendar is essential for helicopter pilots to be able to meet their long-term physiological rest needs.
In the short term, say weekly or daily, the SACAA regulations prescribe flying time and on-duty time. This however does not take into consideration the outside work often taken on by pilots to enhance their income.
There have been concerted efforts by individual helicopter pilots to manage their workloads. This is an imperfect system because there is no obvious off-season window. The challenge comes in with our South African helicopter pilots. They need time to mentally and physically “switch off.”
A Helicopter Pilots’ Union
recommended as an opportunity to prevent pilot exploitation. Further, it can offer numerous benefits to the aviation industry.
These advantages extend beyond the direct interests of pilots and can positively impact safety, operational efficiency, and workforce stability.
keeping pilots’ skills current and aligned
The establishment of a helicopter pilots’ union is
Here are the key benefits:
1. Enhanced Safety Standards
• Advocacy for Training and Standards: A union can advocate for rigorous training programmes and standardisation of procedures, ensuring that all pilots are well-equipped to handle diverse scenarios, including emergency situations.
• Improved Reporting Systems: With collective representation, pilots may feel more secure reporting safety concerns without fear of retaliation, fostering a culture of transparency and proactive problem-solving.
• Workload and Fatigue Management: Unions can negotiate work schedules that prioritize rest and reduce fatigue, a critical factor in aviation safety.
2. Fair Compensation and Benefits
• Wage Negotiation: A union provides collective bargaining power, ensuring that pilots receive fair pay commensurate with their skills, experience, and the demands of the job.
• Benefits and Protections: Pilots can secure essential benefits such as health insurance, retirement plans, and job security, which can attract and retain skilled professionals in the industry.
3. Workforce Stability
• Retention of talent: By addressing pilots’ concerns and improving their working conditions, a union can reduce turnover rates, which is especially beneficial in an industry that requires specialized skills and training.
• Career Development: A union can push for ongoing professional development opportunities, keeping pilots’ skills current and aligned with technological advancements.
4. Industry Advocacy and Collaboration:
• Policy Influence: A union can act as a unified voice for pilots in discussions with regulatory bodies, helping shape policies that reflect the realities of helicopter operations.
• Stakeholder Collaboration: By fostering communication between pilots, employers, and regulators, unions can help resolve industry-wide issues such as pilot shortages or regulatory updates.
5. Operational Efficiency:
• Standardised Agreements: Union-negotiated contracts can streamline employment terms across operators, reducing disputes and administrative burdens.
• Stability in Operations: A satisfied workforce is less likely to engage in disruptions such as strikes, ensuring consistent service delivery for operators and clients.
6. Public Perception and Trust
• Professional Image: A union demonstrates a commitment to professionalism and high standards within the industry, enhancing public confidence in helicopter services.
• Accountability: By advocating for ethical practices, unions help ensure operators prioritize safety and employee well-being, which can positively influence the industry’s reputation.
7. Support During Crises
• Collective Resilience: In events such as economic downturns or pandemics, unions can work with employers to find balanced solutions, protecting pilots’ livelihoods while maintaining operational viability.
• Legal and Professional Representation: A union provides a safety net for pilots facing disputes or challenges, ensuring fair treatment and resolution.
• In summary, a helicopter pilots’ union contributes to a healthier aviation ecosystem by advocating for safety, fair labour practices, and industry-wide improvements. This collective approach not only benefits pilots but also strengthens the overall stability, efficiency, and reputation of the aviation industry. Helicopter
QUEEN AIR TALES
In the early seventies Esquire Airways acquired a pre-owned Beechcraft Queen Air. This top of the range 8,800 lb MAUW model had nine forward facing commuter seats and
I flew it as a single
pilot operation for several months.
ONE NIGHT A NERVOUS passenger remarked that flames were being emitted from the augmenter tube exhausts, so I nicknamed the aircraft the Beech Belch-Fire.
This was appropriate, as the aircraft also had very small ashtrays, and being a chain smoker at the time I had several mini-in-flight cockpit emergencies sparked by ashtray fires.
The aircraft was easy to fly, but the 380 hp supercharged Lycoming engines could be temperamental. We had no cowl flaps for cooling on these engines, while the same engines fitted to the stretched Grand Aero Commanders had cowl flaps that made the engines less unpredictable.
One morning I was taking off from Gaborone without passengers. At about 70 knots the left engine started running rough, so I aborted the takeoff. Then the engine stopped and puffs of smoke came out of the top of the cowling.
I asked the control tower to advise the airport fire station of the situation. I turned around on the runway and managed to taxi back to the parking area near the fire station, shut down, and turned off the fuel selectors.
Grabbing my flight bag, I exited the aircraft, while shouting to the scurrying fireman to hurry. Thicker smoke was floating out of the left nacelle.
The firemen marched onto the apron carrying sections of thick fire hose. Once the sections had been joined the valve was opened. However, the extreme pressure generated by the gushing hose overcame the strength of the fireman holding it. He was lifted off his feet as thick white foam sprayed over the car park and terminal building, all well away from the aircraft.
A second firemen arrived and tried to redirect the hose toward the smoking engine nacelle.
Then the fire hose became disconnected behind the fireman and the sudden release of nozzle pressure caused the men holding it to fall over. Unrestrained, the fire hose took on a life of its own, flailing left and right, spraying ever more foam over the parking apron. I hurried into the aircraft, collected the small portable CO2 fire extinguisher from the cockpit, rushed out, pulled myself up onto the wing, crawled to the engine nacelle, and discharged the small extinguisher into the cowling’s cooling slit. A few seconds later the smouldering fire went out. I jumped down and shouted to the fireman to switch off the pressure valve instead of dashing around the apron trying to catch the still flailing fire hose.
The apron and car park had become a slippery white mess, reminiscent of a scene from a European Christmas card.
I called the AMO at Rand Airport as the aircraft fuel hose had sprung a leak. New ones were fitted, and I flew the aircraft to Rand and asked them to check the right engine fuel hoses as well. These were put on a test rig and failed the pressure test, so new hoses were fitted there too. I asked Tim Biggs, the Chief Engineer, why the engine fuel hoses had not been checked and replaced when the Queen Air underwent its initial South African C of A certification inspection but received no acceptable answer.
After that, the Queen Air served us well and for the first few months I was its sole pilot.
Then, sometime in 1973 there was a palace revolution. We pilots were all paid on a cents per statute mile basis, plus a small amount for the inconvenience of having to night stop. The Pretoria owners then put us all on salaries, mine being a token R10 per month more than the other pilots.
This reduced our income considerably as we normally did a lot of comparatively long distance flying. Now, when the phone rang in our communal rented Gaborone pilots’ house no-one rushed to answer it. There was suddenly little incentive to fly if someone else could answer the phone and fly the requested trip.
Things were changing in our company’s distant Pretoria head office, possibly due to our rapidly
The Queen Air that Martin Oosthuizen didn't make it to Canada in.
JEFFERY KEMPSON
increasing aircraft maintenance costs. I also heard that Esquire Botswana Airways was now up for sale.
A month or so later I was replaced as Chief Pilot by an ex-SAAF ace who had shot down a MiG in Korea while flying a P51 Mustang. Syd de la Harpe was the former CO of the Sabre squadron based at Waterkloof Air Force base.
Syd had also flown an F86 Sabre out of a wet runway at Mahalapye in Botswana when one of the squadron pilots had become lost and low on fuel and spotted the runway just prior to deciding to bail out. This avoided a major diplomatic incident.
Syd was a charming man, and now also acted as the liaison guy with our principal client, Air Botswana. At this time, I also noticed that my name as a director on the company letterhead had been removed. Well, I was 32 years old and had never actually been asked to attend a board meeting, so I had simply been a director in name. Frankly I felt rather sanguine about the situation and had begun longing to return to the social amenities of big city life.
En route we would swap seats, fly some semi-aerobatic manoeuvres under the hood, and recover from Syd’s imposed awkward attitudes while flying on limited panel.
During one of these manoeuvres, he casually mentioned that, “An aircraft does not stall at a speed. An aircraft can stall at any speed, an aircraft stalls at an angle of attack.” Then he took control and demonstrated this truism with memorable effect.
After one excellent Cumberland lunch I took the left seat back to Gaborone, and after being talked through some intense one G actual aerobatic manoeuvres, when I landed back at Gaborone, during the landing roll out, Syd turned to the other pilots, and said, “This little bugger can fly.” In my forty-year aviation career, that remains the only flying compliment of sufficient weight to be memorable. Praise from Caesar indeed.
try and ease this vibration
To be fair, my paperwork had also become a little tardy over the years, and I had heard that this had been reported. More importantly, the new Air Botswana MD and I did not get on well. He was an accountant, the natural enemy of aviation practitioners. Our relationship was not enhanced by my referring to him as “simply ground staff.”
I was mildly pleased that Syd would now have to deal with the aviation experience deficient bean counter.
Esquire Airways had previously acquired an almost new C210 Centurion, which we based in Gaborone, to compete with a new charter outfit which had opened there with a C206.
Syd de la Harpe instituted a monthly Sunday lunch routine involving all our available pilots boarding the company C210 then flying to nearby Lobatse for lunch at the Cumberland Hotel near the airport. Their cuisine was unmatched in Botswana.
A few days later a flight was required for the Botswana President to fly to Lusaka for a meeting with Kenneth Kaunda. Hitherto I had always flown the President as a single pilot, but Syd sensibly decreed that we should operate this trip with two pilots. One of our senior pilots was then converted onto the Queen Air.
The day arrived, and Sir Seretse Khama and his retinue filled the nine cabin seats. As Lusaka was at the very edge of our range, we stopped at Francistown to refuel. The newly converted pilot was at the helm, and competent.
Landing at Lusaka, President Kenneth Kaunda and other dignitaries emerged from a convoy of 10 black Mercedes Benz limousines parked on the apron.
I opened the air-stair door, and Sir Seretse Khama’s tall bodyguard moved to the doorway to check the immediate vicinity. He was about to step down to the apron when something happened that I saw almost replicated in a movie twenty years later. The bodyguard started clutching at one of his long trouser legs, then moving his hand downwards he exclaimed, “Oh! Oh! I’m having an accident.” Then, as though demonstrating a conjuring trick, a large chromium-
plated automatic pistol emerged from the bottom of his trouser leg, then fell out the aircraft and bounced off every step below the open door. Every person watching cringed, some even putting their hands over their ears and turning away, fearing the worst. The firearm hit the ground, spun around, and came to rest without discharging.
Sir Seretse, witnessing this whole farrago said to his bodyguard, “If you do that again, I’ll put you in jail”. Then he winked at me, deplaned and apologised to Kaunda while shaking his hand.
The weapon was retrieved and holstered. Customs and Irritation waived, and we two pilots boarded the rearmost black Mercedes to be whisked off to the Intercontinental hotel for a couple of nights.
Two days later I flew the leg back to Gaborone via Francistown. At one stage a passenger came up to the cockpit and asked me what the radar had to say about the weather ahead. Stymied for the moment, I pretended to look at a non-existent radar screen, and said; “Pretty good. But we do have a bit of a headwind.”
Radar? We didn’t even have an autopilot in that elderly aircraft. Mollified, the passenger returned to his seat.
Then, some distance past Palapye I said to the co-pilot; “I can feel a vibration.” 20 minutes out of Gaborone the vibration increased, and the indicated airspeed dropped by 15 knots. Pressures and temperatures seemed almost normal, though the left manifold pressure gauge was fluctuating.
Then I noticed the silver spinner on the left engine had started wobbling. I said to the other pilot; “I’m going to reduce the power a little to try and ease this vibration”.
That seemed to help temporarily, and I said, “I’m reluctant to feather at the moment and strain the other engine with all our VVIPs on board”.
A few minutes later the spinner started oscillating in earnest, and a crack appeared on it. I said, “If that spinner breaks off and ricochets off the fuselage, tell the pax we’ve been hit by a short-sighted vulture”.
I delayed the descent, then as the spinner’s crack began enlarging I asked Gaborone for a straight in approach, and a few minutes later landed without further complications. I taxied to the apron and shut down near the group of welcoming dignitaries.
I said to the other pilot, “That spinner is now very obviously broken and tilted at an unnatural angle. Open the door, let them out, then stand in front of the spinner while I open the nose compartment hatch and pass the baggage out”.
We did this without the damage being noticed, even though the inquisitive senior DCA man had put in an appearance to welcome the President.
I shook the President’s hand, and the gracious man thanked me for the flight. He really had a wicked sense of humour.
Syd de la Harpe was also on the apron. When the dignitaries had left, I explained our situation, and he said; “I’ll buy the first round at the Holiday Inn.”
Martin Oosthuizen in his army greatcoat.
Next day the other pilot was advised by the Germiston AMO to remove the spinner and fly the empty aircraft to Rand Airport. Syd concurred. He was a consummate gentleman and flying ace of note. At Rand it was found that the left engine had dropped a valve during our leg into Gaborone.
I was glad not to have to write copious official reports about the unnoticed incident.
Several years later, after Esquire Airways had been sold twice - first to Rossair at Rand Airport, then to Vern McWilliams of NAC at Virginia in Durban, I was freelancing out of Lanseria Airport enjoying the amenities of northern Johannesburg, when that Queen Air came back into my life.
The aircraft then belonged to a short lived Lanseria charter outfit. The plane looked tired and unloved and, as I found out, grievously undermaintained.
I flew it a few times. At that stage I had given up smoking, so the ashtrays were no longer a combustible factor in the cockpit.
Then one dark and stormy night I was returning from a day trip to Messina flying as single pilot (with a pax in the copilot cockpit seat). On-board were ten adults, a baby, and a nervous dachshund.
Some months later Pat Hewartson bought that Queen Air, and arranged for an acquaintance of mine, an ex Grand Central instructor, to ferry the Queen Air to a buyer in America.
Martin Oosthuizen was a highly experienced pilot and a very pleasant and gentle fellow. In his very early flying days, he’d lost the engine on a Tiger Moth, over ran an insufficient landing area and trundled into an orchard, then turned upside down. Martin, unscathed, hanging head down from his straps, extended his hand to the rescuing farm owner and said, “Oosthuizen, goeie more Meneer.”
I’d had no contact with Martin for several years, and while tippling at the Lanseria pub one night I heard he had set out on a ferry flight to the US in that Queen Air. I expressed the hope that the right engine alternate air system had been rectified. Then I bet a fellow drinking pilot R10 that the aircraft would probably not get out of the Joburg FIR.
I bet a fellow drinking pilot R10
Several days later I learned that Martin had been forced to land on an ice floe off Labrador. He had been on the ice sheet for several days, surviving on a couple of tins of peaches, and wearing his old ex SAAF overcoat. The Queen Air was spotted through a gap in the clouds during the last apportioned rescue flight by a Canadian Air Force S&R team. Martin was subsequently rescued and flown to Goose Bay.
The weather deteriorated as I passed Pietersburg, and not being radar equipped I had a busy time avoiding the worst of a developing line squall. At one stage, with the dachshund barking under my feet we started picking up icing. The Queen Air had no de-icing boots, and the right engine lost power and would not respond to selection of the alternate air system. Consequently, ATC gave me a descent to below the icing level and we landed at Lanseria unscathed. But even now, I remember that flight being one of my “What the hell am I doing here?” trips.
The next day I told the Queen Air owners that I would not fly that aircraft again until the right engine alternate air heating system had been fixed. I doubt that it ever was, and I never flew it again.
A few days after this I bumped into Pat Hewartson who told me that Martin was okay, and on his way home. Also, that a couple of days later, the ice supporting the Queen Air had thawed, dropping the aircraft irretrievably into the Arctic Ocean. Pat gleefully mentioned that the Queen Air’s insurance company had agreed to pay out.
Several months later Martin and I crossed paths on the Grand Central apron, but I didn’t get a chance to hear the first hand details of his Ice-perience.
I wondered if they had ever fixed that right engine alternate air system …
This is the last edition of this column. I will no longer be writing for this publication.
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LIVING THE DREAM
Part 2: Planning and Pax
This might be a problem. I just gulped my second cup of coffee for the morning and I realised with a shock that I’m going to spend the next four hours in the cockpit! Rookie mistake. There’s still an hour or two before our 06:30 departure time to make amends – so here’s hoping for the best.
MY SCHEDULED FLIGHT for the day is to the furthest offshore vessel that we serve in the Gulf of Mexico – perfect profile for the lumbering S-92. It’s a straight-line 225NM flight, followed by about 20 minutes on deck, and then the seemingly longer flight back. We’re often assigned another stop or two along the way, but today is just straight out and back.
It should be easy. Unless things change, and there’s always a good chance of that.
Our company policy stipulates that all S-92s carry return fuel. This means that we must be able to fly 225NM to our destination, execute a missed approach, and then return to base and land with a 30-minute reserve. This seems like a great plan in good weather, but when flying IFR, we depart on a SID (Standard Instrument Departure), plan for an offshore IFR approach / missed approach, and return to base while allowing for yet another approach procedure. All these fuel requirements quickly add up,
leaving our standard fuel capacity of around 5,100lbs a little marginal on these longer flights. Fortunately, we have the option of installing internal auxiliary tanks – for our flight today, we have one 210 USG tank installed in the passenger cabin, but it does require three of our 19 passenger seats to be sacrificed.
a totally hands-off automated approach
Our destination drillship has been anchored in the same spot for the past few months and this mission has been flown successfully many times by simply extracting our route from one of the two FMSs (Flight Management Systems).
Even with all the information available from the previous flight to this ship, we still verify the coordinates, local weather, deck conditions, fuel availability, and vessel heading prior to every flight. All this information is sent to us in the form of a deck report. With up-to-date information right from the vessel, we’re able to complete our initial planning.
The current and forecast weather looks good along our route and at the destination, so it should be an uneventful flight, although we will be filing an IFR flight plan with the intention of cancelling that before we reach our destination.
We have several options for offshore IFR approaches, the most remarkable allowing us to descend to 200ft AGL (or above water) with ¾ SM visibility, using the S92’s Rig Approach feature. This is a totally hands-off automated approach, which I still find terrifying. The automation does an amazing job, but 200 feet above the water, may very well be the same height as the helideck on bigger platforms, or in our case today, leaving us 70 feet above the 130 feet helideck – not much space to manoeuvre the beast that is the S-92 in low-visibility conditions.
Effect) hover taxi at 200 feet once we’re visual to reach the final landing location on the helideck. This feels painfully slow, and very unnatural. The whole offshore IFR approach requires very dedicated crew involvement, and our CRM skills need to be honed to perfection to be ready for a missed-approach or any other anomaly. When operating so close to the water, there is no time to troubleshoot or discuss options.
This feels painfully slow
With Rig Approach allowing such a low minimum height, we offset the approach, so we don’t fly directly to the rig or vessel in IMC conditions. The result is that the offset track requires an OGE (Out of Ground
For today’s flight, however, we won’t be requiring Rig Approach as the weather promises blue skies with a sprightly 25kt wind offshore. Should be fun!
Now that our planning is complete and the dispatch team knows how much weight we’re able to carry on the flight, the passengers are being confirmed and processed. Security is strict and passengers are managed in much the same way as for commercial flights at any large airport in the USA.
Most of our passengers live in the southern USA as they work either 7 or 14-day rotations offshore. They
An easy VFR day. Short final to a 150 ft helideck. Image Jeff Brady.
drive to our base and our parking lot is typically filled with hundreds of large trucks, mainly black with a large exhaust, massive wheels, and a lift kit. These are characteristically salt-of-the-earth southern boys (or gals) who hunt, fish, and diligently carry their guns with them wherever they go. Quite predictably, our security teams have their hands full scanning for firearms or ammunition in check-in luggage. They often see a handgun “forgotten” in a backpack after the previous week’s hunting and shooting activities during their time off duty. I’d hazard a guess that you won’t see this anywhere else in the world!
Every passenger, including their personal luggage, is weighed separately. Once security, checkin, and verification formalities have been completed, passengers are directed to a briefing room for a safety video. This covers all aspects of the flight, from movement on the ramp / apron, to procedures inside the aircraft, to emergency and ditching procedures, and finally to disembarkation on the helideck. Each S-92 is equipped with emergency floats, so the theory is that the helicopter should
be able to remain afloat. In addition, there are two emergency life rafts that could be deployed. All these procedures are addressed in detail before passengers are transported to the helicopter. Every passenger also receives an emergency life jacket equipped with a PLB (Personal Locator Beacon) and EBS (Emergency Breathing System).
about 20 minutes to complete systems checks
While passengers are being processed, the daily symphony of getting hundreds of people to their offshore destinations continues in the planning room, various hangars, and on the apron. Several fuel trucks manoeuvre between a maze of parked and running helicopters to get the correct fuel orders to the right aircraft on time. Our crew, like many others, head over to the parked helicopters to contribute to the symphony of activity. One of the perks is that pilots don’t do pre-flight inspections on the S-92s. Our activities are focussed on reviewing paperwork and maintenance records, followed by a simple, uninterrupted walk-around inspection, and then detailed systems checks in the cockpit.
Pax and bags being loaded on the flight line.
A complex machine such as the S-92 requires about 20 minutes to complete systems checks. This is done to verify that every system on board functions correctly before passengers are loaded on the helicopter. One of my favourite things about the S-92 is the APU (Auxiliary Power Unit). This is a small turbine engine, used to provide electrical and hydraulic power, and is also used to start the two General Electric CT7-8A engines. Most importantly, though, it enables the use of the air-conditioning unit. With the APU running, virtually everything on board functions the way it would in flight, with the obvious caveat that we don’t have to spin the rotors, nor start either of the two engines.
back to the crew room while we wait for the passenger briefings to be completed, the baggage to be loaded on board, and the helicopter to be refuelled. I still have those two cups of coffee to contend with…
Our systems checks are uneventful today, and we call our dispatch team to confirm that we are officially “operational”. Now we have a few minutes to head
In the next issue we’ll finally get airborne and head offshore!
The pax and their baggage are weighed before each flight.
