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Ten go absolutely wild on the Faroes by Nigel Webb

Vagar (EKVG) is a remote windswept airport at the end of a fjord on the Faeroes, a tiny volcanic group of Islands that lie about half-way between The Orkneys and Iceland. It was also the venue for a list fly-in over the bank holiday by Julian Berry, Ian Bennett, Chris Wright, Alex Stillman, Roger Stroud, Richard Willcox, Adrian Beney, Mike Turner, Tim Emrys-Roberts and myself. We took four aircraft; my Beech Baron, a Tobago, an AA5 and an Archer for the 1500 nm round trip.

The idea of flying to Vagar was born a few months ago in a bar in Cork during a conversation between Roger Stroud and myself. The practicalities of an Atlantic crossing were being discussed, and the various waypoints that might feature in such a crossing were analysed. Of all the waypoints, the one that neither of us knew anything about was Vagar. Apart from it being the most northerly airport in the Jeppesen CEN04 airways manual, we didn't know anything else about it. A message to this usually so informative list revealed nothing other than that one lister had a penfriend there.

So from the starting point of a total absence of information, the last few months were spent informally recruiting pilots to our cause and gathering charts and other information about the Faeroes which we shared via a website. A date was picked, the bank holiday weekend; 10 single rooms were booked on the Faeroe Islands and we impatiently waited.

For a journey including 250 miles over some of the most inhospitable ocean in the world, with the distinct possibility of being forced out of radio contact by low freezing levels, safety was of prime importance. With this in mind, Ian Bennett managed to arrange a ditching and maritime survival course at a specialist centre in Southampton that serves the offshore oil industry . An enlightening experience if ever there was one. Getting out of an inverted aircraft simulator at the bottom of a swimming pool is not easy! Accomplished businessman that he is, Ian also managed to negotiate a "special" rate on some key items of survival equipment.

So now thoroughly damp and at least a little nervous, last weekend finally arrived. The self-styled "Flying Pirates" arranged to rally at Kirkwall (EGPA) in the Orkneys on Saturday Afternoon. My Beech, Lima Mike left Cambridge at 10:30 with Mike Turner and non-lister Tim Emrys-Roberts on board. We made the quick hop up to Teesside to pick up Adrian Beney and to load up with cholesterol in the greasy-spoon establishment. On arrival we bumped into Julian Berry and Ian Bennett, just leaving for the next leg up to Kirkwall. Adrian had been hard at work and in addition to his luggage, he had had made, personalised "Flying Pirates" Rugby shirts for the whole group. These came with a suitably piratical winged skull logo emblazoned on the front. All aboard then for the 1:35 trip up to Kirkwall. On departure, we spotted Roger Stroud and Richard Willcox's aircraft G-KITE on the apron. Clearly, they had sneaked in antisocially whilst we were filling our faces.

Our routing to Kirkwall took us over our first large expanse of water. North of St Abbs Head (SAB VOR) direct to Kirkwall, running up the picturesque east coast of Scotland at FL65 talking to Scottish Control. On frequency, we heard G-FLEA, Julian's steed, routing more conservatively, inland via Inverness. The arrival into Kirkwall is an unforgettable experience. Last year a subset of the Pirates made a similar pilgrimage to Kirkwall, and this was a very welcome return. The descent towards the circuit brings the visitor in over Scapa Flow, famous for being the location in which the German fleet was scuttled, with many wrecks still being diveable today. Indeed, to the low level flyer, the tiny oil leak emanating from the wreck of our own ship the Royal Oak is just visible.

Touchdown at Kirkwall revealed the final piratical ship, Chris Wright's G-NODE, which had landed a few minutes ahead of us from a Friday spent doing the Black Bottle Challenge on the west side of Scotland. An hour or so later, Julian and Ian arrived in the FLEA, and bringing up the rear several hours later once everybody else was firmly ensconced in the bar at the Ayre Hotel, Roger and Richard sneaked in once more in G-KITE. Big as they are, the Orkneys are not used to parties of 10 arriving unannounced, and the evening meal was spent uncomfortably crowded round a table for 8, the largest on the Island :-) There was much unhealthy discussion about freezing oceans, fog and VHF range, topped off with a glass a local whisky, before bed.

I awoke on Sunday morning to the sound of rain drumming on the window from a high overcast. Not the most auspicious of starts. Chris Wright had already obtained the Faeroes weather. 0350 FG VV///. Not good if you plan to land at an airport at the far end of a fjord. Ever the optimists, we headed off to Kirkwall airport and checked the aircraft out. Minor delight was taken from an improvement in the weather. 6000 OVC002. Still totally unflyable. The location of the airport makes instrument approach design very difficult. The approach minima, even under IFR are 4500 metres vis and 1200' cloud base. Not even the IFR jocks amongst us were going to be able to go. Having spent months planning the trip, 10 very dejected pirates sat on the baggage trolleys in front of a closed terminal at Kirkwall and listened to the rain falling outside. Meanwhile... the weather at Vagar continued to improve. 9999 SCT003 SCT005 BKN012.

This placed us in a tough position. Given the length of the flight, the total absence of any alternates and the prevailing headwind, most of the SELs would be running on close-to empty if they were to be forced to return from Vagar having discovered themselves unable to make an approach. This meant that for the first time in many people's flying career they actually had a meaningful and quite critical point of no return.

The plan then was for my party in the Baron to fly first, in front of the rest of the group. With an economy cruise of 180 knots, we would hear about the Vagar weather before the other aircraft, and could advise an early turnback, if no joy. We all left a slightly sunnier Kirkwall at 15 minute intervals, and climbed to FL85, our chosen cruise. This level yielded a slight headwind (around 15 knots), and was just at the freezing level. It was also selected for its ability to guarantee continuous VHF contact for the trip. The majority of the flight is still in the UK FIR, and was conducted in and out of IMC. All of our aircraft communicated between one another on 123.45, the north Atlantic *approved* air-to-air frequency. This enabled our team in the Baron to relay information about headwinds, clouds, icing and Vagar weather to the rest of the party. We also passed ETAs between one another for various key waypoints in order to ensure that we would quickly determine if anybody was in trouble. Finally, the 123.45 system allowed us to relay ATC instructions from Scottish as we gradually dropped out of radio range. The next frequency was a brief call to Reykjavik, in whose TMA, Vagar sits. Once they established that we were a convoy of VFRers going into Vagar, we were instructed to descend to FL55, to remain outside the Reykjavik TMA and quickly transferred to Vagar Information.

The first site of the Faeroe Islands was magical. covered in low cloud, they looked like King Kong's Island in the 1930s film. We descended low level to take a closer look and spent the last island-hopping 60 miles or so into Vagar relaying the good news to our fellow pirates. 9999 SCT012 BCN040 :-))) VCFG. :-(( The VCFG was not evident, so we opted for the "Waterfall arrival". The opening of the Fjord in which Vagar sits is some 50-100 feet above sea-level. This means that the Fjord ends in a beautiful waterfall down to the open sea, like an overfull bath. This arrival calls for the pilot to descend over the sea whilst getting into the landing configuration. When at about 600 feet all is ready, you enter the fjord over the waterfall. The fjord is shaped like large mile-long banana, which you fly along and around to find the airport at the far end.

Touchdown!

One by one, the others arrived, Roger and Richard finally touching down some two hours after our own arrival. What an achievement! 10 pirates safe and sound on Vagar!

Torshavn, the capital, and only town boasting any kind of hotel is 75 km away, and on a separate island. Because public transport is not brilliant we hired three cars from Avis. These cars were not like ordinary cars though. One had a flat tyre, the brakes had corroded on the other two, and on one, the power-steering, didn't. Clearly Vagar Avis doesn't see many tourists. Bugs fixed, we headed by car and tiny car ferry to Torshavn. Descriptions of the scenery cannot do it justice. From high mountains to deep cold fjords, the landscape is littered with boulders, which the locals think are hiding trolls. Sheep wander at random everywhere, even halfway down the steep sides of the fjords. Photos will follow shortly. The Faroerse Hotel sat on the hill-top overlooking the town of Torshavn with its brightly coloured houses and incredibly active fishing port. £67 a night bought one of the best views I have ever seen in any hotel. A quick trip down to the not-so bright lights of Torshavn and the discovery that beer goes for £5 a pint brought us to the end of a perfect day. For the first time, the pirates would not be flying the following day, so a fine meal of Puffin, Blubber dried fish and other Faeroese delicacies was consumed by the braver pirates, whilst the wussies went for steak, chips and other more conventional fare. Much alcohol was consumed in the true piratical style.

Bank Holiday Monday morning was spent touring the islands in a small boat that we had chartered. The original intention had been to visit the famous "bird cliffs", home to over 3.5 million Puffins and Fulmars. Having eaten a number of their friends the previous night, the Puffins conspired to hide themselves, and the weather made the sea too rough for some pirates to stand. A brilliant way to pass the morning. The afternoon was spent at a preserved Faeroese village in the company of some 100 US and Canadian pensioners from a passing cruise ship. "Awwww Geeeeez. This is soooooo quaint..... I wanna tell you... this is just like that place we were just at.... what was it called again...... that little island..... yeah.. Scotttttland....". We noticed our party's tame Scot, Mike MacTurner looking twitchy and reaching for his baseball bat, so we headed swiftly off

Another night of Puffin eating followed, and more discussion of the weather for the journey home.

A grim set of pirates arrived back at the airport early on Tuesday morning. Cloud lined the fjord and the viz was low. I asked the FISO what he though. Ho, you have been *so* lucky with the weather, he said. 8000 metres and BCN006, just right for a VFR departure. Stornoway was our destination this time, prompted by the desire to route back via new and undiscovered airports. We left last in the Baron and took photographs of each of our colleagues as we caught up with them in turn on the way home. 123.45 once again served to insure that we could all look after one another, and a passing jet North West xyz helpfully relayed messages for us. Well... it would have been helpful had it not been for the fact that the pilot got every single fact wrong in the relay, and seemed to be under the impression that the phonetic for "D" was Dixie. For ever more will G-NODE, be known as "Dixie Echo". Perhaps it was the revenge of the American Pensioners.

An uneventful trip back saw Lima Mike touch down at Cambridge some 4.5 flying hours later from one of the most exciting flying adventures that any of us has ever experienced. An experience made all the better for the incredible camaraderie that has grown up amongst all 10 of us. The shared experience of the meticulous planning, preparation, encouragement and finally the execution is an unparalleled way of improving *everybody's* flying. All of us, with our widely varying experience levels learnt a lot on this trip.

The Flying Pirates are now researching our next conquest. We'll report back...

Nigel

-- Nigel Webb Beech 58 G-BMLM Cambridge "Marshall's Field" International Airport

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