Plane & Pilot - August 2018

78 AUGUST 2018 ÇPlane&Pilot

problems early in the light, Johnston

Island is only about 700 miles out,

right on track. It’s an allegedly top

secret military base, but I was in there

once before when a Mirage I was fer-

rying from Sendai, Japan, to San Jose,

California, developed a fuel leak in

the ferry tank. I was forced to stop

and make repairs. he military wasn’t

happy, until I declared an emergency,

and that seemed to solve the problem.

he Stationair seems totally oblivi-

ous to all the furor back in Honolulu

and is again lying beautifully, breath-

ing comfortably at 12,000 feet, pushed

along by the full force of the Trades

and managing 180 knots across the

water. I have a supplemental oil system

on the loor of the copilot’s position,

and I’ll pump in a quart of oil every

four hours, just in case. If the airplane

doesn’t need it, the only consequence

will be another dirty belly.

I land at Majuro 10 minutes before

curfew, and immediately check the

oil level. Sure enough, things are get-

ting better. I added two quarts during

the 12.5 hour light, and the level was

down a quart, so I’d used three quarts

total, or a quart every four hours. I call

the dealer in Sydney and give him the

good news, and he promises to pass

the word to the owner.

I refuel, check into the Majuro

hotel and ile my light plan for tomor-

row’s hop down to Honiera, Solomon

Islands, on infamous Guadalcanal.

A half-century ago, the WWII Battle

of Guadalcanal was a deadly con-

frontation that kicked the Japanese

out of the Solomon Islands for good.

Today, Henderson Field is a sleepy

stop for vacationing Australians and

ferry pilots.

he next day, I depart early and

pass by the tiny Micronesian island

of Nauru on my way south, now a

desolate moonscape of pockmarked

earth and not much else. Up until the

late 20th century, Nauru was the rich-

est country in the South Paciic, all

because of phosphate mining.

Before you look it up, phosphate is

basically, well, bird poop. In the glory

days, the minuscule, 15-square-mile

island was a popular nesting spot for

millions of migrating seabirds, and the

government made big money of what

the birds left behind. International fer-

tilizer companies moved in and began

to strip-mine the island aggressively.

Wallowing in boundless cash, Nauru

built a 7,000-foot runway capable

of handling 737s, then bought a

half-dozen of the talented Boeings

and started Air Nauru with a route

structure that reached all over the

South Paciic.

Eventually, after the government

had squandered its country’s only

exportable product, Nauru went

bankrupt, and most of the popula-

tion moved away. Air Nauru sold all

its aircraft except one and continues

to ly on a limited basis. Today, hardly

anyone lives in Nauru, but I under-

stand land is really cheap.

he big question on the ground

at Honiera was again oil burn, and

almost predictably, it had improved.

he Stationair’s Lycoming had burned

just under two quarts in 9.5 hours.

hat’s about a quart every ive hours.

Whatever mysterious mechanical

gremlin prevailed on the irst leg had

apparently healed itself.

he inal 1,500 nm leg down to

Sydney is anti-climactic. When I arrive

at Bankstown Airport, everyone is all

smiles, and the new Stationair is the

star of the ramp as the FBO removes

the ferry tanks, HF radio, survival gear

and other ferry equipment. Oil burn

is one quart every six hours.

The owner is understandably

ebullient that his airplane has inally

arrived, and he insists I stay over an

extra two days for a party with his pilot

buddies. hey’re all curious about the

idiot who drove a single-engine, pis-

ton airplane from Wichita to Sydney,

8,200 nm across the Paciic, with an

unknown oil consumption problem.

And I even get a irst class ride

home to California on Qantas. PP

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MAGNOLIA FLORIDA REALTY | Scott Webb | 407-334-8346 | [email protected]