Gore and Invercargill
Despite sitting on the sofa for almost a month, the weather has been so unwelcoming that I still haven’t completed my three solo cross-country flights. For example the airport was closed due to fog for four days, the longest period for many years; then three weather fronts moved across in slow succession whilst a high sat teasingly over the Tasman Sea.
Beyond frustrating, I’d given up hope of completing the cross-country qualification before my flight test on Thursday. Instead I planned to sit the test, get a limited qualification restricting me to flying within 25 miles of Queenstown (not much use in Kent), and then getting the final flight completed as soon as possible.
I’d accepted a job working behind the bar up the Coronet Peak skifield, expecting that my flight training would be complete by mid-June. Now, on my first day off I headed down to the club for a mock flight test with the CFI. Having completed the paperwork we opted for me to try and complete the solo rather than run through revisions again.
Generally the club flies students with an instructor on a specific route, and then the student flies solo in the opposite direction. However, a call round showed that Te Anau was fogged in so instead I was sent to Gore, an airfield I’d never been to before. Here was a challenge. I planned the flight, checked the plane and went on my way.
The view was stunning. Across the snow on the mountain tops I could see for miles down to the sea, and beyond that, Stewart Island. Heading in what I hoped was the right direction I tracked towards Gore and looked in vain for the airfield. Gore has a reputation for being a bogan/pikey/redneck town – “I can see a Ford Faclon passing a Holden Commodore, I must be overheard Gore” etc. – but where was the airfield? And would the local aircraft have lowered chassis with spinning hubs?
I checked the aerodrome plate and map and assumed the strip was by the river. A glance to the right and – oh! that must be the airfield there with the three grass runways! An attractice overhead rejoin and I was in the circuit, spotting an aircraft on the runway that had not made any calls. At least he was going in the same runway direction was me, which I took as a good sign.
A smooth landing and strong drag to the left, and I was back in the air. Once clear I called Invercargill and was asked to report at Woodlands. Down here the land is flat and relatively featureless, criss-crossed with roads and one railway line. I worked out the railway line passed through Woodlands where two roads came close together, and eventually managed to find the spot. Cleared straight in to land, I had the pleasure of flying across a big town onto a wide runway, and readily accepted a weak tailwind rather than recircuit. Straight out again and I had to work hard to find the road (yes, road) back to Queenstown but was soon on the right track. Apart from calling my departure from controlled airspace a little early, it was a lovely trip back.
With that, the cross-countries were complete and I was ready for the flight test. It was a month well spent despite the growing bed sores from too much time down the club reading old aviation magazines, waiting for the weather to clear!
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