SA Flyer — Edition 263 — September 2017

71 SA Flyer Magazine

On the return trip, wind and dust put an

end to the flying from Williston onwards.

crew swanned around the Karoo drinking
cool bottled water and distributing shredded
tyres to the local garages to be repaired.
That night was spent under the stars
because what they thought was a hangar
was nothing more than a tapless, roofless,
ancient ruin. Daniella and Helga had bought
their sleeping bags from a popular grocery
chain store. In the morning, they checked
the labels thinking they had inadvertently
bought freezer bags instead of sleeping
bags.
John had rigor mortis in the neck so
could not sleep anyway. Selina did see
lights as she gazed into space looking
for sheep but thought that they were the
consequence of high blood pressure and
brain aneurisms after her failed efforts at
turning the wheel spanner.
The last leg to Afrikaburn was what
cross-country flying is all about: the
stunning desert landscape, the huge
Roggeveld escarpment, the imposing
Cedarberg in the distance and the tents of
Afrikaburn in the arid plain below.
John, as an ex-hanglider pilot, hung
on the edge of the escarpment for a while,
playing in the ridge lift. Unfortunately, trikes

glide like rustic half bricks, so it wasn’t long

before they turned onto final for their home

for the next week.

The farmer had graded a strip of desert

and ATNS had sent a very strict bloke

called Major Tom to be the ATC for the

duration of the festival.

After a week, on the morning of

departure, everyone was up and packing

at 03h00. The pilots took to the air having

agreed to meet the ground crew back at

Williston, a couple hundred kilometres away

by road. The low-level wind forecast was

light and variable. As they climbed out of

the valley and approached the Roggeveld

escarpment, the wind became far less

light and far more variable. Ground speed

was down to 20 mph, and despite the early

hour, it felt like they were flying in a popcorn

machine. A larger aircraft radioed that the

air at 6,000 ft was still rough and when

it’s rough for them, it’s far worse for trikes.

Because conditions would only get worse

with the warming of the day, they decided

to head back to the ‘Burn’ and re-think the

plan for the day.

The problem was that there was no

way to contact the ground crew. John sent

them a short SMS whilst still aloft to say

that they were going back to the Burn, but

the crew were not in range of a transmitter

so they continued on their merry way up the

Adventure flying

they had inadvertently

bought freezer bags

instead of sleeping bags