Around the World in 12 days
Valleys of the unknown
On March 29, 1992 I began the longest journey in my life. I
left
Dubai bound for Doha to visit my family before going to my
starting point in California. A trip such as this takes great
emotional strength but the unwavering support and concern of
my family gave me the strength of a thousand men. There were
many along the way that physically assisted but when I was alone
and encountering difficulties, it was their spirit that kept
me from
folding.
When I finally arrived in Lakeland, Florida I was completely
exhausted. I had not even begun. My first activity was to check
on the aircraft that was to carry me on my journey. It was in
pieces. The Piper Aerostar 601 was still to be fitted with Avionics
and extra fuel tanks. This meant at least three days of work.
After flying the plane, I had discovered the first mechanical
problem. The nose-wheel had a wobble in it which made the
entire plane vibrate alarmingly.
These delays were more derogatory than it might appear.
I was
up against the clock. It was crucial that I leave on my scheduled
departure date. Easter, a popular holiday in the U.S., was just
around the comer. In addition to that there was an experimental
aircraft "Sun and Fun" Airshow. Normally, I would welcome such
an event but what it meant was minimal time to test the aircraft
that
was being called upon to perform far beyond its original specifica-
tions. The new equipment on board had to be tested; my life
de-
pended upon it. When I finally did manage to have a test flight,
Murphy's law prevailed; anything that could go wrong would go
wrong.
The engineers were going to have to work furiously in
order to
keep me on schedule. By the fifth of April, I was still testing
the
airplane, but things were looking much better. A new tire had
apparently made the nose-wheel problem disappear and I was
pleased with the newly installed fuel tanks in the main cabin,
which included a complicated transfer system. My nerves relaxed
a bit and I once again began looking forward to the start of
my
record breaking attempt.
Things were looking good for my planned departure, coast
to
coast, on the seventh of April. Early that morning, a weather
check revealed a line of thunder-storms along the Northwest
side
of Florida, directly in my planned flight path. It was imperative
I
stay on schedule. I calculated the risk and went ahead. I had
to
set course for California, despite the weather.
I rang the flight service station and filed my flight
plan. After
refuelling, I contacted the tower and taxied to the runway.
Apparently there were restrictions on the runway due to the
air
show. I needed the entire runway to take-off. Remember, my
plane was over loaded with extra fuel tanks. The restrictions
placed on runways dictated that only a portion of the runway
was
available for use. I explained my situation to the tower and
they
released the restrictions on me but by the time I reached the
threshold. The controller on the ground (this is the only airport
I
know of with a ground controller at the runways) refused to
allow
me use of the full runway. After discussion, I was given priority,
and lined myself up for the start. The ground controller with
his
flag poised signalled me off and the race began. I applied
maximum engines power and felt the rush of the acceleration.
Then it hit. At 100 knots the wobble returned. The take off
was
continued and lift off was at 120 knots.
It took me 20 minutes to reach the designated altitude
of
10,000 h. As I levelled off, I tried to bring the aircraft to
a
smooth power setting for my cruising altitude. It was important
to control the fuel flow to the engines and establish the correct
power settings. But, as I tried to reduce my fuel flow to about
34
gallons per hour, I started having a problem with my starboard
engine. The engine gauge indicated that it was overheating.
The
fuel flow gauges would not go to their pre-set figure because
there was a problem with the fuel lines. It meant that the right
engine was using much more fuel than the left one. However,
I
decided to proceed, despite the thirsty engine and the vibration,
which continued to shake my plane because it was so overloaded.
I suppose I hadn't tested my plane thoroughly enough. No
matter, there was not enough time. I figured that I would just
work the kinks out along the way.
Luckily, the flight was pleasant. There was a short lived
encounter with the thunderstorms. It was a beautiful flight.
I
could see the abrupt changes in the terrain from my venue.
Flying over the beautiful plains of Louisiana, the wide open
spaces of Texas, and Oklahoma, and the subtle changes as New
Mexico, and the desert scenery of Arizona slowly rolled into
view, was a joy to behold. From the cockpit, I could clearly
see
the vast differences between the landscapes of the mountains,
rivers, valleys, and desert. It was a beautiful sight. By the
time I
approached Albuquerque, New Mexico, the mountains started
to rear up towards me and with the change of scenery came
turbulence.
Looking at my fuel gauges over the mountains of California,
they
indicated I had 90 minutes remaining. Since I was familiar with
the
Bay area and know it can be congested at certain times, I decided
to
land at Fresno. As I opened the door and got out of the airplane
at
last, I felt that my legs would not carry me. It was a long
day but I
would have to get used to these long flights. It was a long
way
around the world.
During a fast refuelling, I was alarmed to discover that
the
starboard engine has used six quarts of oil. More engine trouble
was on top of the profuse fuel consumption. The engine would
have to be inspected thoroughly. My journey, and my safety
were at stake. My trip was in danger of failing before I even
started. I replaced the oil and continued on to Napa. As I lined
up for my approach to runway 18 right, memories came flooding
back. This is where I learned to fly solo thirteen years ago.
My
old instructor was there waiting for me. It was really good
to see
him. It had been a long day and it was time to sleep. After
a
quick dinner, and a short chat with Mark, I could hardly keep
my
eyes open and it was time for bed.
April the eighth was a day to relax and to team up with
journalist Jim Gilchrist and cameraman Osama Shehadeh. Jim
would be writing daily reports on my progress for the Gulf press
and Osama was filming my exploits for a documentary to be
shown on Gulf televisions. I drove to San Jose where I would
be
setting out from. We three met to start discussing the plans
ahead.
My scheduled departure of April 10 was beginning to seem
unrealistic. The starboard engine was going to need more expert
attention. Unknown to me, other delays would soon materialize.
Early the next day, I flew to Brigham, north of Salt Lake
City
in Utah, where there were Piper Aerostar expert engineers. The
wobble had reappeared and after examination of the nose-wheel
bay, I noticed the paint beginning to peel off. Suspiciously,
it was
beginning to appear that it was damaged before I bought the
plane and not reported in the log book. The mechanics
confirmed my doubts. The diagnosis meant the whole nose-wheel
component would have to be replaced. In addition, they were
unable to determine the location of the oil leak even after
completely dismantling the engine and running numerous tests.
It was highly exasperating.
I left Brigham next day around 6:30 P.M. A weather front
was
moving into California and I wanted to avoid it. The forecast
en
route was for light turbulence with clouds up to 18,000 ft.
with a
possibility of icing at higher levels. I had no idea what was
in
store for me. After departure, I climbed to 14,000 ft. The area
I
was flying over was a mountainous region. The lowest allowable
flight altitude was 11,000 ft. After about ninety minutes into
the
flight I noticed ice beginning to form on the aircraft. There
was
still no need for the de-icing boots (a device that inflates
and
breaks up the ice on the wings and tail). As the flight progressed
the icing became worse. With the plane bouncing all over the
sky, the ice quickly was formed. I inflated the boots to remove
some of the ice and decided that I must descend in order to
avoid
the icing conditions. I contacted Salt Lake City and advised
them
of my situation. How I wanted to just land at that moment and
let
the conditions subside. The only suitable airport for landing
was
an hour away in Reno, Nevada. I started to lose speed fast and
was using more and more power just to stay in level flight.
If this
situation were to persist, I would eventually be at maximum
power and losing altitude.
This flight was quickly formed into my worst flying experience.
It is moments like this that add a dark vitality to aviation,
and the
struggle between man and machine verses the elements. As I
approached the Reno area, I broke clear of the icing conditions.
It was over. By the will of God, the rest of my flight back
to Napa
was smooth.
Next morning, I discovered that air traffic controllers
in the
Philippines were on strike. This complicated my plans greatly.
I
would have to find alternative routes from Hawaii to the Far
East. On top of that the winds on the way to Hawaii were much
stronger than I had initially estimated. Unless I chose to combat
these winds, I would have to go to Hawaii via Alaska. This would
add another day to the schedule. I would have to watch the
weather closely and make a last minute decision. I put the
aircraft in the shop to prepare it mechanically and put my mind
through rigorous exercises to prepare it as well. The journey
ahead was going to tax me physically and mentally to my limits
and beyond.
