Megara, Greece November 6-10

                      Sunday Nov 6th
We departed Corfu around noon and followed our Sky Demon tracking to Megara. This shows what we look at on our iPads we have mounted in both cockpits. Here we're flying east into the Corinthian bay on approach to Megara.   It was a little windy this day so the direction of the wind dictates which side of the bay to fly along given the wind coming over the mountains which in this case line both sides of the bay.  It becomes a matter of how much updraft or downdraft turbulence we wish to deal with.

Upon entering the Corinthian Bay, we saw this very modern bridge.  Nick said something to me about how much fun it would be to fly low through the pointed spans....I said, "Let's not and say we did!"  Such notions sometimes need to be put in their proper perspective!

 

 On arrival at Megara, we were greeted by fellow rally members Sarah from Botswana who is co-piloting one of the Tiger Moths with her dad, Brett,  Adam, a Bushcat pilot, and Steve, the Grand Caravan pilot.  They were happy to see us as we were happy to see them. Now the 'family' is growing, I said.

Discussing the route to Crete in the dining room of the Cokkinos Seaside Hotel. Nick, Keith, Tiger Moth pilot Mark from South Africa, Englishman Henry (rally friend and head of cheering Section), Botswanian Brett and daughter Sarah ('Pixie'), Janice (Tiger Moth-er John Baxter's wife over from UK to fly as far as Crete), Ron and wife Val - enthusiasts and pilots but not in the rally - cheering section to see us off in Crete.

 

Colin having a 'read' in the lobby of this very restful hotel situated on a cliff above the Saronikas Sea (a bay, really) with mountains framing it to the north.

The lovely patio/ lounge area at Cokkinos Seaside Hotel looking out over sea and rocky beach below.  The Greeks know the value of combining view, greenery, solitude, and NO piped in pop music over loudspeakers to create an attractive and peace-filled environment.

Little 5 year old Vassily -- son of the owners of the hotel -- who greeted us everyday with "Hello" and frequently played with his Legos in the lobby. 

A laid back hotel resident with a very relaxed agenda.

Nick enjoying the warm Saronikas Sea water.  The beach is very peppled and hard to walk on in bare feet.  

As there were 12 of us staying at the hotel, the staff put several tables together so we could all eat together. We were given a choice of ordering from the restaurant menu or eating whatever the kitchen had already cooked up. We chose the latter to make things simple. The array of dishes they brought out was incredible. We ate like gods. Here Nick, Pixie, and Colin are having an after dinner chat.  Tiger Moth pilot John Baxter and Keith are in the back.  The U.S. presidential election was about to begin back in the states.  There was much discussion at dinner about our election process and whom we Americans wanted to see get elected.

Megara is an hour's drive into Athens, so while Nick opted to stay and work on the airplane, Colin, Keith and I took the bus into Athens and made like tourists at the Acropolis.  The day started out sunny, but by afternoon the sky turned stormy and the rains came.  The homeless dogs of Athens knew better than we to take shelter.  We didn't want to miss any sights because of a "little" rain.

While walking around Athens, we came upon this "brochure" of sorts for an art and design college.

  

On to Greece

The rest of our trip to Crete went fairly smoothly.  We flew two-leg days stopping for RONs in beautiful Cannes France, Lucca Italy, Sabaudia, and Brindisi Italy.  In between these places, we refueled in Urbe near Rome, and Salerno before Brindisi.  We drew so much interest and curiosity in all these places.  Rampers, fuelers and mechanics in their coveralls lined the taxiways as our Travel Airs landed one after the other. They all had their mobile phone cameras pointed at us.

Landing at Cannes just at sunset was beautiful. But for Pedro - Team SoCal Travel Air - trouble came in the form of a bad vibration at a lower power setting on short final. The problem turned out to be a crack on his engine's crankshaft. Keith did exploratory "surgery" on the engine and determined the diagnosis.  Not good.  A new engine was needed.  We had planned to stay one night in Cannes.  With this problem, we stayed a few more nights until Pedro was able to locate a new engine in the U.S. and make arrangements for its shipment to Cannes along with his mechanic from CA.

Cedric and Alexander, and the Piper Warrior crew had to continue as they had commitments they could not get out of.  Nick went with them to learn the routing into Italy. Keith, Colin, and I stayed another night with Keith helping Pedro get the old engine on Pedro's plane ready for removal. Nick drove back to Cannes the next day and Teams Alaska and Barnstormers had to prepare for departure to Italy and Greece without Pedro the next morning - November 2.  We hoped that Pedro's new engine would arrive without a glitch; we would stay in touch for updates.

Brindisi Airport was an interesting experience.  We had been warned by seasoned European pilots like Cedric that the bureaucratic aviation systems in Italy will make the most patient aviator very agitated.  The fueling process for two aircraft took nearly 3 hours.  The actual fueling took a fraction of that time. Paying for the fuel and getting a receipt was an ordeal that could rival trying to straighten out an insurance claim snafu over the phone.  An obviously untrained, elderly official had the task of checking each pilot's passport, typing --in the Search and Ye Shall Find method --all the information required on some obscure forms using a computer keyboard that he obviously found mysterious.  Name, birth date, passport number, expiration date, date of transaction, quantity of fuel, etc. After each entry, he had to read it back aloud --- slowly.  "Ah, a mistake. Must fix that." The 'fix' could take several minutes.  Amazing.

The next day, life vests donned, we headed out over the Adriatic Sea for Corfu, Greece.  It was a beautiful flight around, over and next to corpulent cumulus clouds with sunshine reflecting off the sea below.  After 35 minutes of nothing but sea, it was so nice to see dots of small islands and then the big one of Corfu. Very friendly staff there to greet us and point us in the right direction for hotel and restaurant.  We would be joining other rally members in Megara the next day who had been there ahead of us working on their planes before the last pre-rally leg to Sitia, Crete.  Our thoughts were with Pedro. We knew the time crunch ahead  put pressure on him as the rally launch date was coming up fast.

 Approaching Cannes at sunset. Lots of yachts in yonder harbor.

The Casino in Monte Carlo.  Wish I had more time in Monaco.  The memory of Princess Grace is still revered here.

Nick taking a break in a wine bar in Lucca Italy where we stayed the night in a lovely family run inn within the walled Old Town.

One of the more prominent peaks in beautiful Tuscany.  We are 15 minutes out of Urbe where we made a fuel stop.

Friendly Stefano Pesucci - retired airline captain and current CFI - greeted us at Urbe and kept us company as we went through an interesting song and dance to get fuel:  only one aircraft at a time could taxi to the fuel pumps on the other side of the runway which of course required taxi clearance from ground control, then a change of frequency to the tower to cross the approach end of the active runway, then a change back to ground. At the pump, forms and signatures, and initials and ....

At a family-run restaurant in Sabaudia. Air field here is a grass strip and we landed just before total dark which we would have preferred not to do.  Now relaxing here with great food. Couldn't read the menu as everything was in Italian.  Talkative waiter with little English described the menu with enthusiasm.  We just nodded our heads and said "Ok" to everything, and we got EVERYTHING.  The staff played a Pavoratti CD for us while we ate and drank wine.  So nice to savor real Italian food while listening to the great Luciano sustain the high notes of Nessun Dorma.  Pasta never tasted so good.

The impressive Amalfi Coast enroute to Salerno, our next fuel stop. Then on to Brindisi on the east coast of the Boot.

In Brindisi, one of the ground crew asked in  broken English if he could sit in 'Smuggler'.  Nick was happy to oblige. 

Sea and clouds -- crossing the Adriatic.

Setting up our approach to airport on Corfu.
(View over the cowling and through the prop. Main tank gas gauge is a little off. We also have a top tank which we switch to an hour into flight and then go back to what's in the main tank,)

Our hotel in Corfu. Very inviting after a long day of flying. 

Small park across the street from our hotel. The view out to sea was really beautiful and comforting knowing we had crossed a large span of it earlier and could now kick back and relax.  

Costas, ramp security manager at Corfu airport who took such good care of us and our airplanes for our brief stopover. He took a genuine interest in what we were getting ready to do for 5 and a half weeks. He also enjoyed Nick's sense of humor and could easily come up with some pretty good quips of his own.

Night in Macon, France

The weather enroute to Macon along east central France started to deteriorate but we had just enough visibility and radio communication with each other to make it to Macon.  We stayed in a nice hotel in the center of this lovely town.  Macon's population is about 35,000 people and it lies next to the Saone river, where interestingly enough, big flying boats in the 1930s landed with passengers enroute from London to Capetown, South Africa!

 This would have been the view from our hotel room if we had stayed here way back when.









The lobby was beautiful.  A nice baby grand piano situated near large sofas and chairs was very tempting to Colin.  The people lounging in the lobby were happy to be an audience.

We had a very spacious room with high ceilings, long, heavy window drapes and modern but curious looking bathroom fixtures.  After a little freshing up, we all met up in the lobby to walk to dinner at a nice French restaurant where Team Barnstormers had their first taste of escargot and steak tartare.  They are definitely culinary daredevils.  In any case, we were all hungry and enjoyed the opportunity to get to know one another better in a social setting.

Waiting for snails and wine: Emily from Sweden flying with Pedro (both in black), across is Francois, behind him Alexandra, yours truly next to her, then Colin and Keith. Behind Pedro is Nick then Manfredo, and Cedric.





The next morning we were back at the airport to plan the next legs of flying.  It was a misty morning but the low clouds seemed to be settled in some places and lifting in others.  While we worked on getting the planes ready, a man and his young grandson came up to the airport fencing and seemed very interested in our planes and what we were doing.  The little boy pointed at the planes but seemed very shy.  Pedro and I walked up to the fence to exchange hellos with the visitors.  My French was and is very high school-ish, but I managed to get that the boy - with his big wide eyes - was curious.  We invited them to come over to the planes and Pedro asked if the boy would like to sit in one.  The grandfather spoke encouragingly to his grandson, but the boy pulled back and shook his head.  He was quite firm that he did not want to approach the plane or strangers.

Pedro's quiet and gentle demeanor worked wonders and in about 10 minutes the grandfather with grandson in hand were entering the parking ramp and slowly approaching the plane.  The boy stopped and tugged on his grandfather's hand.  "Enough. No further" was the body language.  Pedro went on about his work on the plane looking over his shoulder, smiling at the little 5 year old.  Soon more steps were taken and as they walked slowly up to the plane, Pedro again issued an invitation to sit in the plane.  The grandfather beamed, but the boy lowered his head, eyes peering up cautiously at Pedro and once again stood firm.  Pedro brought over his cap and goggles and showed them to the boy. He smiled a very tentative smile.  Pedro slowly put them on his head and the world as the boy knew it did not end but became a little more interesting. In seconds, he was sitting in Pedro's plane with a huge smile!

 A new experience to be cherished.

A future astronaut? A happy boy in any case. Thanks, Pedro, for being a great ambassador for aviation. Our little friend will never forget this moment.

Four Aircraft Head for Greece. Day One

On Saturday the 29th, Teams Alaska (Nick and Lita), Barnstormers (Keith and Colin), SoCal Travel Air (Pedro and Emily), Frog and Kiwi (Cedric and Alexandra), and a support flight piloted by Manfredo and Francois with a Piper Warrior departed Charleroi with the intention of making it to Avignon, France.  We all looked forward to the first day of flying to the rally's starting line in Crete.  The weather in and around Charleroi was beautiful and weather enroute looked pretty good.

In a spacious briefing room at the back of a large hangar, we all gathered around to sync our Sky Demon and Air Nav Pro programs on our devices to the routing Cedric had devised for us after we all had had time to evaluate weather forecasts, com (communication) frequencies, and clear up any questions.  iPads and GPS devices aside, it felt a bit like being in a mission briefing before scrambling to our biplanes to head out in pursuit of the Red Baron.  Snoopy would be jealous.

With Cedric and Alexandra in the lead with their Stampe, we took off with a clearance for Vintage Air Rally aircraft 1 through 4.  We got off an hour later than we had hoped as some media people arrived to take pictures, ask questions, and do a little filming.  We were delighted they came as for all of us, this is a big undertaking and we appreciated the attention.

Taxiing out for take-off from Charleroi.

 Cedric and Alexandra's Stampe leading "the Pack".  The rally organizers made up flag decals for each aircraft which went on the vertical stablizer and rudder.




 Looking over my shoulder and seeing the other aircraft lifting off the runway behind us and climbing to our pattern altitude made me realize we were really on our way and soon we would be linked up with the rest of the rally participants in Greece.  It was such an exhilarating feeling to see all of us climbing in unison. 

Teams Barnstormers and SoCal Travel Air doing their runups in Charleroi.




 Alexandra handled a lot of the radio work and weather updating which she passed on to all of us on the 123.45 frequency.  The coordination was great, as were the great views of French farming country.  As in so many remote places in the world that have come to recognize the necessity of cleaner energy, giant wind generators whirred efficiently on various plateaus along our route.  Seeing these ones made me think of the ones erected on the ridge above Unalakleet that I always admired every time I had a flight there with PenAir.

The landscape also showed thick, autumn bronze tinted forests corralling luscious green fields dotted with sheep, goats, and cows peacefully sharing space.

We approached our first refueling stop in Dijon.  With coordinated formation we landed one after the other.  Space in the Travel Air is a little cramped. We are quite limited in what we can carry on board with us (hence the support aircraft).  My back pack is under Nick's seat, our life vests -- when we're not wearing them over water -- are under my seat, an army bag the size of a large purse is also under my seat, a first aid kit is in Nick's cockpit, the raft (approximately 14"x14"x3") is on my seat to my right being a large armrest, and Nick's bag is on my seat to my left.  On the panel in front of me is mounted my iPad which gets programmed every morning with the flight routing for the day.  Nick has a smaller iPad mounted on his panel with the same program.  Sky Demon seems to work best for us.  Colin has his iPad programmed with it too, and Keith uses his GPS.  So, getting out of the Travel Air after two and a half hours of flight involves a bit of twisting, turning, and high stepping all at once.  On the ground, it felt so good to stretch and stamp our feet.

We oversaw the  refueling of our aircraft and then made beelines for the small terminal and the restrooms. A slight misunderstanding with a couple of pilots in crew uniforms in what we all thought was an FBO since it was marked as such caused a little stir when Keith innocently availed himself of some coffee from a beverage service table with stacked ceramic cups and saucers, and cream and sugar containers. Cedric and Alexandra had already passed through this area into an adjacent building where the restrooms were and where passengers board their regional small aircraft for outlying villages.  Poor Keith had barely taken a sip when one of the pilots approached him and in rapid fire French made it clear that a serious breech had been made.  Apparently, this "FBO" was for flight crews of high-end executive jet aircraft and not crews of vintage aircraft wearing coveralls and sporting 'helmet hair' and 'goggle noses'.  Keith offered to pay for the coffee but the damage to the prestige of this office with all the trappings of a modest crew lounge was too severe.  I wanted to inform the men that if they cared to know our resume, we had dined in the best restaurant in Namur, Belgium dressed just as we were, but thought better of it....of course.  No time for an international incident over a cup of coffee.  Also, we became aware that these "pilots" may have been employed in some security capacity as well when one of them brought a pair of handcuffs.  Needless to say, we retreated into the other building where a coffee kiosk dispenser was and where a customs official had a desk.  We gathered once again as a group to get briefed on the next leg to Avignon.  We rose to exit and head to our aircraft when one of the FBO pilots went to the customs official and spoke to him in low tones while looking over at us.

It took us 20 minutes to fill out forms, have our passports checked, have pilot license numbers entered in a database, and in general be given a thorough once over.  The delay made it clear that after our late start in Charleroi, we would not make Avignon well enough before dark.  So, on to Macon instead.

 Posing before leaving Dijon

Cedric and Alexandra going over flight plan.

 

 Approaching Macon where we RONed

Charleroi, Belgium

Cedric and Alexandra actually live in Brussels, 35 minutes from Charleroi Airport where - on the general aviation side of this busy airport -- they run a flight school.  They are a very busy couple who decided they couldn't pass up the Crete2Cape adventure and so made the commitment to join the rally.  Like us, they searched for and bought their biplane aircraft to help celebrate the era of early flying in Africa.  They chose a Belgium-made Stampe --one of 65 used as trainers in the early 1950s as the earlier ones before the war were all destroyed at war's end.

We stayed in Charleroi 4 nights as Cedric and Alex prepared their school for their leave of absence.  We enjoyed meeting some of their pilot friends -  many of whom Cedric had instructed.  We also learned some interesting things about the routing we would take to Crete. Cedric and  Alex have flown around Europe and parts of Africa extensively and so the sharing of their knowledge base is very welcomed by us.

We visited the town of Namur for a late dinner at a Chateau restaurant which one of the pilots at the school recommended to us. It is perched on a hill overlooking the town.  When we got to the restaurant we became aware that it looked too fancy for 6 scruffy looking aviators who were not prepared to pack fancy dinner attire for this leg of our trip.  (... our nonessential items for the trip to Crete went on ahead  on the Cessna Grand Caravan.)  The dining room was exquisite with white linen table cloths, hanging crystal chandeliers, beautifully arranged potted plants and tall French doors adorned with sheer drapes accessorized with velvet cinches.  We fully expected to be turned away by the portly, straight-backed maitre d'. Dinner guests in elegant attire talked in low tones as they sipped fine wines and properly adjusted the linen napkins on their non-fidgeting laps.   Like a well choreographed bit of staging they all seemed to stop and look up at us at the same time with curious and guarded stares.  Interestingly, the head waiter didn't care that we were dressed for a tour of a livestock facility. We were led to a table in the middle of the room careful to tread lightly with our boots so as not to shatter the ambience of candle lit tables and whispered intrigues by diners nearby.  Once seated, I thought it wonderful that in this day and age the standards of 'fine dining' had relaxed and we went on to be treated by the efficient and impeccably dressed staff with such respect and artful grace.

It was then we learned that the staff were all culinary students from the culinary academy next door and were practicing their craft while possibly being graded by instructors dressed up as high end clientele.  Our table's server was a young man of about 19 or 20  - so tall and skinny, wearing a black suit with bow tie and glistening black shoes.  He moved and darted so quickly I was afraid he would slip on the polished floor. With straight back, he bent slightly at the waist every time he presented a platter of food to each of us.  Think Downton Abbey dining.

However, the part where the waiter artfully removes stem ware from place settings that won't be used revealed the yet to be studied chapter on Consistent Handling of Clean Stem Ware.  Our young man, moving like a ballet dancer around the table gathered up the unneeded wine glasses at the stem in bunches of two or three.  Such poise and agility of wrist. Then without dropping a beat he picked up one wine glass with fingers and thumb holding the bowl of the glass - fingers INSIDE the glass.  These glasses were then placed neatly back on the shelf of a gorgeous credenza where unused glasses were perched for future place settings.  As he spun around on the ball of one shiny shoe to dart quickly to another task, he used the back of his hand to wipe his nose. It was a Fellini moment and it was all I could do to contain my amusement.  Sorry to go on about this.  I suppose you'd have to be there to appreciate it.

The next day we went into Brussels.  Nick and I were quite impressed with the layout and the architecture of much of the city.  We entered the Grand Place and I thought I had entered a 17th/18th century story book.  It is a huge plaza with the most impressive buildings lining it on all sides.

A cloudy, rainy day but still an impressive visit to the Grand Place.  Pedro of Team SoCal Travel Air is enjoying the architecture too.

In the Grand Place. Nick being a gentleman and holding my heavy backpack.  Behind him is the beautiful Mansion de Roi museum which houses art work and history of the city of Brussels.  The size of this square is maybe a fifth the size of Central Park in NY. Don't put me on the stand to swear to this.  In any case, it's very large.

This facade impressed us in that the relief statues "standing guard" over the square have been doing so for centuries while the more modern clock to the side vainly reminds us of the passing time in  hours and minutes.   

Day 1 of Journey to Crete: Crossing the Channel

The day finally arrived when we three Travel Airs took to the sky and headed for Belgium to meet up with Team Frog and Kiwi (Cedric and his wife Alexandra) with whom we would fly down eastern France towards the Riviera on our way to the rally's starting point on Island of Crete.

Tuesday October 25th, we took off from Shoreham a little sad to see our wonderful communities of Alfriston and Shoreham Field receding from view as we headed towards our crossing point over the English Channel.  We naturally picked the narrowest expanse of water to cross.  We wore our life vests and I had on my lap our neatly packed four man life raft --- "just in case".

Moments before takeoff from Shoreham, it poured.  Rosalind had come to see us off and we could see her standing outside the terminal surely wondering if we were going to be all right.  When the rain stopped, visibility in our direction of flight improved a little and we took off.  More people than Rosalind were gathered to wave as we climbed in formation and headed east.  It was a touching and wonderful sight.  Our planes had become a novelty there for two weeks and I'm sure our friends on the ground were all wishing us a safe journey.

We followed the coast east until we got to Lydd then turned south for the crossing. Nick said to me over our intercom system, "Okay, we're going to be out over water for 30 minutes."  I turned and looked back at him, gave him a thumbs up sign, patted the raft on my lap,  and calmly looked out at the afternoon light reflecting off patches of the Channel which to a large extent became obscured by the shadowy  overcast.  Our landfall target was near Calais.  The lure of history brought before me images of Hitler's high command generals quibbling about the landing site of the coming allied invasion and the consensus among them that surely it had to be Calais.  To the extent that these generals registered dismay at their huge error in judgment, I'm sure the people of Calais were relieved to not be the backdrop of such a violent drama played out in the pursuit of liberating Europe, and from our point of view, the region we were now approaching and would be flying over for the next few days.

It was a welcoming sight to spot the French coast after flying through light mist at 1000' staying clear of the clouds.  Sunshine and clearer skies washed over the entire landscape and I could start thinking about the 'vin et fromage' we would soon be enjoying at our destination in Charleroi, Belguim  -- home to our rally mates, Cedric and Alexandra.

Enroute to checkpoint at Lydd. The Channel is in the distance.

Looking over at Team Barnstormers when over the Channel.

Flying Around Southern England

After our planes were re-assembled, we took time to see a bit of West Sussex from the air.  We met some wonderful aviation people who shared an interest in what we are up to, and they also encouraged us to get over to some nearby fields with aviation museums attached.  We took their advice and on one lovely afternoon, got in the planes and flew to Goodwood field to see some British Spitfires that still take to the skies giving people who can afford it a really fun 30 minutes of flying over the white cliffs of the southern coast and over the green rolling countryside of this part of England that saw its share of aerial drama during the Battle of Britain.

Two new friends, James and Sjorg ('George', so sorry, friend, as I know I have butchered the Dutch spelling of your name!).  They both fly for RyanAir in Europe and enjoy off time flying James's aerobatic plane.  They joined us on our trip over to Goodwood Field.

 Pedro (Team SoCal Travel Air) in our formation flight to Goodwood.

In front of one of the Spitfires at Goodwood Field.  I'm sorry to sound a bit melodramatic, but when I first laid eyes on this bird knowing its history at a time when Britain was fighting for its existence, I got goosebumpy (new word) and ALMOST cried.

Team Barnstormers (Keith and Colin) on our way back to Shoreham Field before dark.