Air Safari 2011

Australian safari

2,200nm across an unusually green continent By Michael Whalley & Karen Goldie-Morrison

This page is a transcription of an article published in Pilot magazin issue March 2011.

The names of the explorers Robert O'Hara Burke and William Wills, forever 'Burke and Wills', resonate with Australians in the same way as that of Scott of the Antarctic with the British. Brave men, who died sacrificing themselves to unforgiving and brutal environments, one piercingly hot and dry, the other bitterly cold and windswept, in the interests of exploration and discovery.

We were constantly reminded of the heroism of these explorers as we cruised above the terrain they walked, in awe of the vastness of the Australian Outback.

Our trip from Adelaide to Alice Springs and back, with eight stops along the way, took a route that Burke and Wills would have recognised, but not from the same perspective. Nor could they have imagined the relative speed and comfort in which we travelled compared to their privations and challenges. For we were viewing their countryside from 6,000 feet, at 165 knots, only occasionally making real contact with the harsh reality of Australia's bush. A long held dream, to fly the Outback, became reality for us in October 2010. Born in Australia, Mike has lived in London for 35 years, but visits Australia regularly as he is a partner in an Australian law firm. Karen is British, with a background in natural history publishing and films, which means she particularly appreciates the special nature of Australia.

We are are both pilots, with UK PPLs and Australian special licences, and it was therefore natural that Australian holidays should involve flying. Previous visits had not got us into the interior, and Alice Springs and 'the Rock' (Ayers Rock or Uluru) were a magnet. Planning therefore began in earnest some three months before our departure from the UK.

The obvious first questions were "what to fly ?" and "where to go ?". I am fortunate in having a brother in Australia for whom flying is both a business and a way of life. An ex-RAAF test pilot, Jim has a business in defence aviation. An email to Jim about our plans resulted in an offer of his Beech Bonanza, so that was the first question answered.

As to "where to go?", the Rock was the focus. So we built an itinerary around that objective. Jim kindly sent us his t rip kit from a recent air safari, from which we were able to select a number of our landing points. We also consulted the AOPA Pilot's Touring Guide www.aopa.com.au

Our route was to start in Adelaide and take in Broken Hill, Arkaroola, Innamincka (the end of the road for Burke and Wills) the iconic Birdsville, Alice Springs, Ayers Rock, Mount Dare Station, William Creek and a final stop near Wilpena Pound, in the Flinders Ranges, before returning to Adelaide. As we were to discover, we would have the incredible, and very rare, opportunity to see the centre of Australia in bloom, covered in wild flowers and water after record heavy rains in the winter.

Arriving in Adelaide, Jim introduced us to Chris Pfitzer, Chief Pilot of Renaissance Air Charters. Chris introduced us to Jim's A36 Bonanza, VH-DGD. We fly a PA32-300 (Piper Cherokee 6) in the UK out of White Waltham, and the configuration and power of 'DGD was therefore familiar to us. However, there were differences in handling and avionics and we therefore devoted the first day in Adelaide to conversion/training with Chris.

Handling mainly involved an introduction to dirt strip landing and taxying techniques, with the main aim of protecting the propeller, undercarriage and flaps from stone damage. This included 'rolling' taxying and departure to avoid the higher revs that stopping after a back-track of the runway would have required.

Finally, we had to understand local airfield and radio procedures. Departing Adelaide's Parafield GA airfield, we were close to Adelaide's main airport, and in Class D airspace. Radio calls for taxi (and sometimes for start-up) and departure are necessary and we had to exercise great care in navigating Parafield's complex taxiways and parallel runways. One difference from UK procedure: it was not necessary to obtain permission to change frequencies and VFR pilots are expected simply to change from Ground to Tower when ready for departure. The availability of good radio coverage, and ELTs and PLBs means that it is not now necessary to carry supplies for a month if forced down in the bush - but a sensible emergency kit includes a good first aid kit, lots of water and some food. We opted for a cache of muesli bars and took two 10 litre water boxes on board.

Having planned the trip carefully using Command's Flight Planner on Mike's laptop we were finally ready to depart.

First leg: Broken Hill

We took off from Parafield's O3R runway into a broken cloud base and climbed away to the north-east for Broken Hill, 222nm away and just over the border in the far west of New South Wales. Mike is a trustee of the Royal Flying Doctor Service's UK charitable trust, and we wanted to visit the RFDS Base there, which covers an area equivalent to the whole of Western Europe.

Despite being a prosperous mining town and regional centre, Broken Hill airfield has no air traffic control, and we had our first experience of using the CTAF (the Common Traffic Advisory Frequency) for all radio calls. And a good thing too - we managed to arrive overhead Broken Hill within half a minute of a Piper Chieftain, causing us several anxious moments as we scanned the sky until his accurate radio position reports helped us to spot him.

We were met by the RFDS's Larry Angell, who kindly gave us a fascinating tour of the Base and Broken Hill. The Hill is a fascinating story in itself - a town built right on top of a three-mile-long underground reef of silver, lead and zinc. From some 5,000 miners working the Hill in the 1920s, the entire operation now employs less than 1,000 miners and is highly automated, with mining operations up to 1.2 miles below the surface - deeper than the now infamous Copiapo mine in Chile.

The second leg of our trip involved our first foray out over real outback. Leaving the relative safety of Broken Hill, we struck out west, flying over the seemingly endless salt pans of Lake Frome. After 145nm, the eastern Flinders Range emerged out of the distant heat haze and we knew we would make it to Arkaroola, our first overnight stop. Clive Thomson of the RFDS had already introduced us to Arkaroola's owner, resident geologist, and local celebrity Doug Sprigg. It was Doug's father who set up the station and contributed significantly to the understanding of these 500 million year old hills when he discovered that the rocks contained very early and important ediacaran fossils.

After landing at our first dirt strip, we located the HF radio in a hut beside the airfield and called the Arkaroola settlement and hotel for a transfer. Arkaroola's accommodation and food were excellent - the smoked kangaroo steaks and emu pate were a first for us - but the highlight was hearing Doug talk passionately about the area. Our only regret was that we couldn't stay on for one of Doug's famous ridge-top tours through the Ranges.

Doug encouraged us to fly low level through the Freeling Hills after departing Arkaroola, and we had a spectacular flight at around 800ft agl through steep gorges and past towering peaks before climbing away to the north-east. Here, the terrain suddenly fell away beneath us as we ventured over the dunes of the Strzelecki desert. These dunes were dotted with many small lakes and waterholes and covered with green plants and small trees taking advantage of the unaccustomed moisture.

Burke and Wills died here

Our destination was Innamincka, where Burke and Wills died on their return from the Gulf of Carpentaria, having missed the relief party by only a few days and failing to find the provisions that had been buried for them at the celebrated Dig Tree. There was a strong, 20-knot northerly blowing. However, the Township airstrip was partly sheltered by low hills, and after a crabbing approach to test the wind we found the surface crosswind a manageable 12 to 15 knots. Just after we landed, a Piper Chieftain charter flight arrived with a group of tourists. Their four-wheel-drives had no room for us, so we walked the half mile into 'town' in the 40°C 'white' heat, swatting flies. It was after Innaminka that we added 'clear flies from cockpit' to our pre-take off checks. Innamincka has a hotel and a trading post and little else. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, we stayed only a short time. The only bad weather we were to experience on our trip was due to arrive that evening, and we had been told that the airstrip was unusable after more than 8mm of rain. Remaining overnight would lead to the risk of being trapped for days.

GPS has made finding remote towns and airstrips a simple matter. We marvelled at how early aviators could have located remote townships, settlements and farms with no navigational guidance other than dead-reckoning and with a landscape having no identifiable features to follow. But for us the Birdsville strip came into sight as predicted and we flew in once again low over swollen, yellow silt-laden river waters to land.

Birdsville is one of the famous outback names, a stop on the Birdsville Track and home of the annual Birdsville Race meeting. The apron is right beside the pub, but the airport is designated security controlled due to occasional scheduled flights, and the apron is now surrounded by a two-metre wire fence. The romance of taxying up to the pub and wandering in to the bar now requires navigating a CASA security gate.

The Birdsville Hotel, along with the fictitious Ettamogah Pub, is known to all Australians. It traditionally catered for drovers and cattlemen from the remote outlying stations needing to come in for a bender on pay day (or when the wool clip sold), but is now a staging post for 4x4 adventurers and tour groups doing the Outback in air-conditioned coaches.

We had planned to continue our flight on to Alice Springs the same day, a total distance from Arkaroola of 630nm, the equivalent of London to Barcelona. Alice Springs had been reporting possible thunderstorms that morning, but as the front had passed and we were now at its northern extremity, we thought that a flight on to Alice would be possible. Soon after getting airborne again, however, the rain clouds closed in on us and darkened ominously. Even with a Stormscope on board, we were reluctant to press on and we returned to Birdsville. The pub fortunately had a room for us due to a cancellation.

The most challenging flight

The next day's flight, in clearing skies following the previous night's storms, was probably the longest and most challenging of the trip, as we flew 322nm across the Simpson Desert, nearly three hours of flying over featureless terrain - and a blank space on the chart - and managing a ground speed of less than 130 knots due to strong headwinds. Endless parallel sand dunes run in regimented rows from north west to south east as if to infinity. Once the floor of an ancient inland sea, the sand was again waterlogged, the slacks slimegreen swamps.

Gradually, the return of features marked the western edge of the desert, rising to tableland and a winding creek bed. With considerable relief, we were flying towards the ranges south of Alice Springs, and over another set of weathered and furrowed hills, quite beautiful escarpments and green valleys.

Alice was our first controlled airfield in Australia's Northern Territory, with Class D airspace, but no radar, and therefore requiring compliance with designated VFR routes and reporting points to ensure separation of traffic. Calling at 20nm, we were instructed to proceed via the Santa Teresa Mission and to track inbound along the Old South Road out of Alice, flying parallel to the famous Ghan railway from Adelaide (named after the Afghan camel drivers, who were to be replaced by the railway) for a right base join to Runway 12. Flying in we had a view towards the McDonnell Ranges, north of the airfield. What a joy, after short and challenging dirt strips, to land on 2,400 metres of tarmac!

The next day's flying to the Rock was spectacular. Tracking out on the prescribed VFR route from Alice we then detoured slightly to the north to take in Kings Canyon, a beautiful green gorge with a surrounding tableland whose sheer escarpments rise 1,000 feet above the surrounding countryside. Passing over the Canyon at 1,000ft agl, we were in radio contact (on the CTAF frequency) with helicopters conducting scenic flights 500 feet below us.

Leaving Kings Canyon behind us we then set course for the Rock, flying in good visibility with scattered clouds at 6,000ft. The surrounding land is completely flat so that our first view of the Rock was at nearly 45 miles out. Ayers Rock airport carries a lot of traffic, but is not controlled, although there is a ground radio helping to ensure separation of traffic. Calling on the CTAF frequency, we overflew the airport and took up the scenic route specified for fixed-wing (at 4,000 feet) and helicopter (at 3,500 feet) traffic. The scenic flight passes close to both the Rock and then the Olgas before returning to the airport, with mandatory radio reporting points. Viewing these isolated and huge rocks from the air, and on our own was very special.

After landing on the Ayers Rock airfield's impressive 2,600 metre tarmac runway, we refuelled at the BP self-service bowser and then paid the equally impressive $115 (£70) in landing fees and parking charges, our first of the trip.

We had booked a three-day stay in the wonderful Longitude 131 resort at Ayers Rock. With our own tented room we had an uninterrupted view of the Rock through a glass wall at the end of our bed. Everything they say about the changing colours of the Rock is true, and one can spend days just gazing at it from different angles and in different lights. Another thrill for those used to light pollution in the United Kingdom is the spectacular star show every night, with the crowded dome of stars almost claustrophobic in its intensity.

Natural amphitheatre

The last two nights of our safari were to be spent at Arkaba Station, near Wilpena Pound in the south west Flinders Ranges. Wilpena Pound is a natural amphitheatre, originally a mountain which, after many millennia of erosion, has the appearance of the caldera of an ancient volcano.

We had over 625 nautical miles to cover in a single day from Ayers Rock to Arkaba's nearest airstrip, Hawker, with two intermediate stops planned. The weather had by now settled into a pattern of sunny days with only scattered cloud, and daytime temperatures in the mid-twenties, perfect flying conditions.

Our landing after 240nm was on the roughest airstrip we had yet encountered, as the principal strip was out of action due to the rains. We landed on what could best be described as a paddock, with a dirt surface liberally sprinkled with grass tussocks to challenge even the most robust nose-wheel.

It would not be an exaggeration to describe Mount Dare as seriously isolated. It is surrounded by desert and scrub, many hundreds of miles from any town worthy of the name, and with only minor dirt roads servicing it. We were nevertheless assured that it was a busy stopping point for travellers, and the Mt Dare Hotel was well equipped and welcoming.

But we did not delay, and took off again to make for William Creek, where we were assured of fuel. William Creek had become the hub for scenic flights over Lake Eyre, this year truly a lake rather than the usual salt flats (on which Sir Donald Campbell had set a world land speed record in 1964), and a special CTAF frequency had been allocated for flights in the area. Once again, we were forced to land on a secondary clay strip, the surface of the main runway having been cut up by the rains and by an aircraft that had become bogged on it the previous week.

True to form, the William Creek Hotel was a caricature of an outback pub, the only incongruous note being a 42-inch flat screen TV in the corner of the bar. We wandered in at 3.05 pm to be told that the kitchen had closed, but the barman managed to rustle up a couple of meat pies.

After lunch we announced our intentions on the CTAF frequency and took off for a low level flight over Lake Eyre. Our route then took us past Lake Torrens, a dry salt lake over 100 miles long into which most of the rains falling on the Flinders Ranges drain and are lost to evaporation. After miles of these arid salt pans, the eroded and undulating foothills of the Flinders Range were once again a welcome sight. Hawker airfield is a tarmac surfaced airfield maintained by the local council and nestling in the foothills, a spectacular setting.

Time to return to Adelaide

Arkaba was one of the most productive sheep stations in South Australia in its heyday as it had permanent water from the Arkaba Creek. The Station was first settled in the 1840s, and covers 65,000 acres (100 square miles), an enormous area. Recently sold to an Outback Adventure company, the old homestead has been converted into a six-bedroom boutique outback residence with a chef and bush guides. We had as our guide the previous owner of Arkaba, Dean Rasheed, who knew every track, hill and valley. Our morning tour took us through aboriginal campsites, among ancient eucalypts and over the Flinders foothills. We spotted euro (a kangaroo adapted to hilly country) and eastern grey kangaroos, emu and blue tongued lizards. We learnt about the dangers of sleeping under red gums (nick-named widow makers) and in dry creek beds prone to flash floods, and had sundowners overlooking the undulating ranges.

For the energetic, Arkaba offers three-day guided hiking through the ranges, staying in specially prepared camps and sleeping under the stars, the guides providing meals and transporting heavier items from one campsite to the next. A wonderful way to enjoy the Australian bush.

Time to return to Adelaide

Two days were not enough but we had to return to Adelaide and our flight back to UK. So we embarked in 'DGD on our final day, again into clear skies, and flew the final 190nm leg via Port Pirie to Adelaide. We obtained clearance to maintain 5,500ft in Adelaide's Class C airspace until we were within five miles of Parafield, where we identified the necessary VFR reporting point for a left base join to O3L and made our final touchdown at midday.

We had covered 2,500 miles over some of the most hostile terrain on earth, and experienced many special places that are unique to Australia. We had flown for a total of 17 hours. Our average ground speed had been only 127 knots, due to strong headwinds on all but our last leg. The total fuel cost had been $2,200 (£1,360), with fuel costs varying from $1.69 (£1.05) per litre at Parafield to $2.70 (£1.65) in the more remote parts of central Australia.

A safe arrival in Adelaide was only dreamt of by Burke and Wills, but our trip, and safe return, was a reminder of the courage of these early explorers, and will be a long held and cherished aviation memory.