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Vagar Trip Report by Roger Stroud

Nigel has already submitted a report of the Vagar trip, but there are a few differences between the ‘Webb-Air’ view of all this, and that of just one of the SELs. This is a LONG posting so if this kind of thing bores the heck out of you, please delete and move on. I won’t be offended. ;-)

Richard Willcox’s, and my tale started off with a certain amount of confusion as we were asked to change planes having already arrived early at Bournemouth for an early departure. Putting VB back to bed, then finding the other aeroplane, reloading our gear, and setting off, delayed us by an hour an a half. This had repercussions for later as the destination for the day, Kirkwall, closed at 4:45. Fortunately, the other plane, G-KITE, had a cruise prop which gave us an added 5 knots cruise. This allowed us to catch up somewhat and in fact we were able to arrive at Kirkwall with an hour in hand. The downside is that we missed the first rendezvouz with the others at Teesside. Never mind, the first leg was complete and the usual evening of piracy followed. We even managed to confine ourselves to spending the evening within 200 yards from the hotel as per usual. ;-)))

Flying an SEL on the leg to Vagar was, from the start, one area of the trip that absorbed a lot of our attention from day one of the planning. The sea crossing that would take us around 2hr 20mins in still air (2hr 40mins as it turned out) could not be taken lightly, and it was clear that we could not just ‘turn up’ at Vagar then divert if the weather was too bad to land. A lot of planning went into researching sources of weather, a spreadsheet was prepared calculating the Critical Point (the point at which it is as quick to go to the destination as turn back), and the Point of No Return (the point by which you have to turn back if you are to reach the alternative airfield – back at Kirkwall). As Nigel said, by arranging for him to go ahead and report back on conditions at the Faroes, we were able to make the decision on whether to carry on or not, well before we reached the PNR.

The other concern, of course, was the consequences of ditching. Having scheduled the dunking course, courtesy of Ian, it became very obvious that if we entered the water it was unlikely without a lot of team effort that we would have the strength to get into a liferaft. Fortunately, we were all in low-wing a/c, and perusal of several experiences of ditched pilots reassured us that we were likely to have a few minutes while the plane floated, to deploy and enter the liferaft. We also discussed routing and whether it was worth a small dogleg to fly over a couple of oil rigs part way across. In the end this was discounted, though we did have the waypoints plotted in case of the need to ditch. The route was Kirkwall direct to AB, an NDB on the Southern tip of the Faroes.

On the morning of Sunday, we hurried off to Kirkwall airport to prep the planes and wait on the weather at Vagar. As time went on the actuals gradually improved until we were able to make the decision to go. Preparations were made amid a flurry of gallows humour. The sea crossing was daunting and was in the forefront of everyones mind. Finally, ten mad souls – six in ‘blobby suits’ boarded their a/c and we were ready to go.

The climbeout from Kirkwall was directly to FL65 so that the engine-stressing climb could be over land. As the coast eased back under the wing all that could be seen was cloud and a steel grey sea. The realization that there was over two hours more of this ahead was intimidating and the mood in the cockpit quiet.

It is hard to convey the feeling of how slow the time passed as we droned on over the sea. As we had elected to cruise at the slowest of the three SEL’s speeds, we went last. The only real breaks in the monotony were the constant Ts & Ps checking (was the temp maybe a tad higher than last time?), positional reports to the others in our group, and the radio. Firstly Kirkwall, then Scottish until they could no longer work us; then Reykjavik. I got a real buzz working Reykjavic. It gave a very real feel of being far up in the North Atlantic: and listening to the airliners getting their hand off for the North Atlantic crossing gave a very real sense of how far North we really were. At one point I remember that we talked about pilots in the last war, who daily set out in single engine a/c for long patrols over this very sea. I imagine that the trepidation must decline with each successful trip, but the chance of engine failure doesn’t; and how must it feel, all alone and hours out at sea, to hear your engine falter?

Passing 61 North, we knew now that we were nearly at AB on the Southern most island of the Faroe group. There is still a long way to run at this point, but being close to land is a relief, and gradually the imposing view of this very rugged landscape eased out of the grey. Our first view was of craggy mountains jutting out of the sea, with huge plumes of cloud boiling from the tops. We dropped to get under the edge of the cloud and started our slow meander up between the islands.

As reported, the Waterfall VFR approach into Vagar is stunning. A crescent lake running approximately North South spills from over 50 feet into the Atlantic from between a gap in the surrounding hills. The approach is to fly part way up the lake then turn left onto R31, but being aware of the location of the runway does little to prepare you for the way it springs from the surrounding hills. Base to finals was accomplished in a 60+ degree turn then do your best to settle things down for the landing. Finally on the runway, we reunited with our fellow pirates at the fuel bowser, and climbed stiff-jointed from KITE.

The events of our stay have been ably recounted by Nigel so I can safely leave most of it out. I will just say that a lot is said about the Islanders ’ habit of eating just about anything that they can lay their hands on, including pilot whales and puffins. In fact we saw a boat crew catching Fulmars in a net, whilst on our boat trip. What is immediately obvious though, is that these folk have needed to farm and hunt every resource they have here. If a slope is less than 60 degrees, they plant potatoes on it, if over, they run sheep on it. The sheer tenacity of these people is evidenced everywhere, and if my cosseted viewpoint makes me at first baulk at their way of life, I for one can easily forgive them. We were reminded at one point that these dour Islanders lost 4.3% of their population, and 30% of their shipping whilst supporting the UK in the last war. Churchill said we should not forget their contribution to our survival. I did not know of their sacrifice, so it appears we already have.

Tuesday morning looked fairly good as we left our hotel, but arriving back at Vagar airfield it became obvious that it was just about fly-able, but set to deteriate. Back in the immersion suits we clambered awkwardly aboard and fought the planes up into the turbulent air, staying just below cloud at 700 feet. Turning right back over the lake the turbulence increased tenfold as we passed between the hills. For a few seconds as we burst clear of the waterfall the plane was tossed like a leaf. By far the worst turbulence I’ve encountered. Climbing out to FL55 we again watched the impressive scenery slip away behind us. The trip back was flown mostly in thick IMC. This time with more of a headwind, our crossing was to take 2hrs 50mins, finally descending out of cloud at 1200 feet for Stornoway in the Outer Hebrides.

This should have been pretty much the end of our tale, except that the SELs had planned to spend the last night of the trip in Oban. This is a short trip across the Minch, past Skye and into the sheltered inlet to the great Welcome of Oban airport. Having had so much go right for us, we all suddenly found ourselves in low thick cloud just off Skye, with no choice but to climb and go IMC. Although Oban were reporting good weather, with no radar service to give us a safe let down through cloud, KITE followed FLEA on a divert towards Prestwick. As it turned out, the weather ran obliquely across the Minch, so in fact it was easily possible to track back to Oban once we’d burst clear. Chris in NODE decided to do this, but having made our way so far South, an in flight conference decided FLEA and KITE would carry on to Prestwick. Nobody could keep their eyes open beyond 9 o-clock that evening.

The final drag down to the South coast seemed almost a non-event. FL55 mostly into increasingly good weather, then descend into Bournemouth in time for Lunch.

As we bedded the plane down one of the local pilots who we’d spoken to on the way out, walked over. “You made it then?” he grinned. Distant though it all seems now, we most certainly had!

Roger

-------------------------- Roger Stroud

PA28-161 Lee-on-Solent 
PA28-180 Bournemouth

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