Extras
 With six helicopters and one fixed wing fuelled, preflighted and ready to go, eighteen people braved the cold Cape winter and rose before the dawn on Saturday morning full of anticipation for a weekend adventure. But as the dim sunlight filtering through the clouds started to illuminate the scene it became clear that we weren't going to get away as soon as planned. There were low clouds obscuring the mountains and the sporadic rain showers put a serious damper on our spirits every time they came over. A couple of guys went over to the weather office to see for themselves what was going on. When we asked the forecaster what the weather was looking like he just laughed and said "I have no idea," (At last! An honest weatherman!), "but come look at the satellite" he motioned us over to his computer screen. There was a thin curved band of clouds hanging over the south west of the country where the cold front was passing. "It looks like the cloud bases will be lifting by around 2 o'clock this afternoon".  And so we waited... After consuming copious amounts of coffee (hint: caffeine is a diuretic - not a good idea before a long flight), channel surfing DSTV and staring at the horison for hours on end to see if we could catch a glimpse of Sir Lowry's Pass things started looking up. Sheldon and Kristy decided to go ahead in one of the R22s and check it out. After a while the SMS came back from them giving us the "all clear!". And so, Papa X-Ray Juliet Formation requested start and it wasn't long before all the Lycomings hummed together as they warmed up. We radioed the tower to tell them that we were "ready for lift" and after they gave us the green light we lifted off in sequence. We crossed the extended centreline of runway 19 and as we gained altitude our spirits lifted proportionally! We flew over Sir Lowry's pass and the five helicopter guys (and gals) who are fresh PPLs or students entered unknown territory and from that point on were the furthest away from the "nest" that they had ever been. The R44s took off last of the lot and soon caught up with the little R22s. The apple farms near Elgin soon gave way to rolling green hills interspersed with  yellow canola fields on the east of the Houwhoekpass. From there we flew past Caledon to Riviersonderend and by then Jandre in ZS-IDX the Cessna 182 had caught up with us as well and was trying its best to fly along with the helicopters without stalling. Now we started to approach Swellendam and it was time to play an exciting game of "spot the airfield", which I can assure you is not that easy if you're not familiar with the area. We joined the circuit for runway 15 and started landing the helicopters in a long queue behind the fuel bowser. As the machines were filled up with AVGAS by the friendly people from Swellengrebel Vliegklub we pushed them along on their wheels to the take off area. Pieter in ZS-OPB (a Robinson R44) was the first out from the airfield, followed closely by Abri and Suzanne in ZS-PXJ (an R22). This was Suzanne's first flight where she was in a completely unfamiliar area and had to navigate using only the magnetic tracks to Mosselbay that she had worked out a few days before. It gets very busy in the tiny R22 cockpit when you navigate this way. You have to constantly keep track of your position by comparing reference points on a (violently shaking) map with objects on the ground, try to keep your helicopter's heading correct on a compass which frustratingly seems to have a mind of its own when you attempt to turn on to a heading (read about compass turning errors), and even do mental arithmetic to work out what time you ought to be arriving at your next checkpoint while trying to not do a right-hand spiral dive when you look down to your nav log to write it down with your left hand (your right hand is busy holding the cyclic, remember?). Now while you're doing all this you still have to keep your altitude and listen to the proper radio frequency so that you can form a picture in your mind of where all the other traffic is because flying into other helicopters or mountains by mistake is generally frowned upon. Suz did admirably well and after turning completely the wrong direction only once (very good - I turned completely the wrong direction at least 4 times on my first nav) we made it over the Gouritzriver Bridge where we tried to see if we could spot any crazy people hurtling themselves into the abyss. It was still overcast, and by now the sun had reported that it was on short-finals for the horizon.  Ahead of us in the gloom the red flames emanating from Mosgas that we could occasionally make out reminded me of Mordor, and yet behind us there were staffs of golden light piercing the clouds and illuminating the rolling green hills. It was an absolutely breathtaking sight and we couldn't help but to do an orbit to take a second look. By now PXJ had fallen behind a bit and while we climbed to 2600 feet to do an overhead join we heard "Mosselbay Traffic, OUW final approach for Runway 09", then "SCS Short Finals Runway 09, number 2", "... RIW Final approach .. Number 3", "...OPB, Final approach... Number 4"! It sounded like something out of "Apocalypse Now"! When PXJ finally came overhead in the gathering twilight, we were treated to the sight of 4 helicopters landing in a square pattern in the field next to the runway with their strobe lights flashing. We switched on our nav and landing lights (more because it looks cool than anything else really) and Suzanne guided the Robbie down the runway and set the machine down smoothly on the ground. RMM (an R44) came in last with Deon and Ashley. They claim it's because they took the 'scenic' route, but the rest of us aren't so sure that that isn't only an excuse for coming in late because they were a little positionally challenged! (Just kidding, Deon's been to Mosselbay many times before and knows the area like the back of his whizz-wheel). We tucked all the helicopters in for the night and a horde of famished aviators headed off to the wonderful Ilita Lodge near the Great Brak River. It was a  fantastic end to a great day of flying. Everyone shared their stories from the flight over some great food and drinks in the Lapa. The accommodation at the lodge was first class and it wasn't long before the only sounds around were the distant waves crashing onto the shore and a bunch of snoring rotor-heads. Up bright and early the next morning the pilots started trickling in for some breakfast. We took it real easy so we only made it to the airfield later in the morning. We woke the helicopters up, took off their pyjamas and started the pre-flight inspections. There was already a rather stiff breeze blowing, luckily in the correct direction (towards Cape Town). We decided to route from Mosselbay airfield along the coast past Stilbay to a town called Witsand. Once at Witsand we would then route directly to Swellendam to refuel. The two R44s got into the air first and got moving. There was a lot more traffic in the air today, there were some less fortunates (fixed wingers), and even a few people who have completely lost their wits and have decided to spend their Sunday morning by flinging themselves out of a perfectly good aeroplane into airspace containing the aforementioned traffic including 6 choppers (emphasis on the "chop"). Everything started off smoothly enough, but by the time we had reached Ystervarkpunt we had to start paying a lot more attention. The predicted turbulence had arrived! In RMM (the one R44) Ashley got his first taste of "moderate turbulence". The helicopter bumps up and down, rolls, pitches and yaws randomly — a little disconcerting in the beginning to say the least. The trick is to allow the helicopter to, to a certain extent, 'roll' with the waves - relax your right hand a little and try to keep your attitude approximately between 60 and 70 knots. Ashley handled it well enough to allow me to pursue slightly more trivial tasks such as counting the whales which we were now starting to see along the coast. By the time we had reached Witsand I had counted in excess of 50 whales! An incredible sight! The two R44s followed the Breërivier all the way to Swellendam, while most of the R22s decided to cut inland to Swellendam from Stilbay due to the increasing turbulence. Jandre in IDX did a grand job of piloting his craft through turbulence which was described to me by one of his passengers using descriptive words which I would rather not publish. At Swellendam the runway in use alternated between 15 and 33 while the wind tried to make up its mind. Due to some nasty up and down-draughts at surprising places around the airfield the students actually had a legitimate excuse (for once) for not maintaining circuit altitude.  There is a lot to be said for how well a helicopter handles turbulence when compared with a fixed wing aircraft. When a helicopter experiences turbulence, its flexible rotor disc absorbs a considerable amount of the disturbances caused by the confused airflow. Add to this the fact that a helicopter "hangs" underneath its rotor disc, which adds another level of detachment, and you end up with a much smoother ride than in an aeroplane in similarly turbulent conditions. That said, even in a helicopter it can get pretty hairy at times. The guys came in for landing one by one and shortly we had a queue of hungry machines being filled up with AVGAS 100LL and oil. After flying in a Cessna for the first time in her life, a slightly pale Suzanne clambered gratefully back into her helicopter. We fired up again, having mentally braced ourselves for the turbulent path ahead. There were some bumps here and there, but once we reached the Riviersonderend area the going was actually pretty smooth. When we called the tower before the CTR boundary, and he routed some of us directly in, some to the false bay coast, some to the Bottelary Hills. We landed back at HELI, and we were home! What a way to spend a weekend! Thanks to everyone who came along! |
