ScottishMike

THURSDAY 1st Feb. Craig helped me with the flight plan. It hadn't been difficult to persuade him to accompany me to Melbourne. He had said it would take him some time to go through recordings and transcripts of Dream Myths recounted by Elders in Pitjantjatjara, the most spoken Aboriginal language in South Australia and see if he came up with anything that referenced the cairns. “Why don't I leave you to it and you could tell me about your results as we fly down to Melbourne tomorrow? I'll arrange an evening out with Andrew.” “So long as I don't have to go up in any of Andrew's or his student's contraptions.”. YPPF to YREN 108 nm. heading 70 degrees time @140 kts = 47 minutes + 4 for take off = 51 minutes YREN to YNRC 168 nm. heading 180 degrees @140 kts = 1 hr 12 minutes YNRC to YWBL 114 nm. heading 130 degrees @140 kts = 49 minutes YWBL to YMMB 128 nm. heading 75 degrees @140 kts = 55 minutes + 4 for landing = 59 minutes “Well Craig, total time in the air 3 hours and 51 minutes for 518 nautical miles. You OK with that?” “Seems like a bit of a roundabout way to get from Adelaide to Melbourne.” “That's the beauty of a time trial, we all follow a crazy route, the journey is way more important than arriving.” “We will arrive though?” a note of concern in his voice. As we were both toilet prepped I checked the Mooney and stowed our luggage. “Don't put that bag in the very back, it's got all the notes and photos I need to tell you about.” I looked at Craig questioningly, the bag was heavier than his overnight bag. “Well you've been busy since yesterday.” “Up half the night, actually.” he replied. “OK let's get her up in the air and on our way.” A wave and a thanks to Bruce for his bucket and sponge: Cleared for take off (I even remembered landing lights on, taxi lights off): Up, up and away 09:39 (GMT 00:39) Goodbye Adelaide, turning onto 70 deg. heading, climbing at 900'/min Throttling back to keep on 140 Kts, leaning as we climb to 7500': More cultivated land around Adelaide: The wind although only 7kts should not have been ignored. I now have to make a 20 degree correction to head for Renmark. Weather: Above YREN Renmark ATA 10:20 ten minutes early! MUST NOT RELY on KIAS, but only way to check GS is by using my GPS. Steep turn onto heading 180 for YNRC Naracoorte 168 nm. away and the first chance to relax and talk to Dr. Allardyce. I glanced at Craig: “You OK?” “Yes enjoying the flight so far, somewhat different from the small transports we use for remote field trips.”. “Yes, this Mooney is a thoroughbred.” Craig dragged his bag from the back seat unzipping it to reveal a sheaf of notes and some photos. “Firstly your cairns”, he dragged out two photos. “Impossible to tell if they are ancient or modern without a field trip. Here is a cairn on Fowlers Bay only a couple of miles from Segfield's ill fated dig. Ancient or modern? Surfers, beach combers, tourists are all in the habit of adding a stone or two as they pass. Maybe the cairn was ancient, is it still? “Here is another from further along the coast at Scott Bay: same questions apply.” “What about Myths or songs do any reference or mention the cairns?” I asked a bit crestfallen. Craig rummaged through his holdall. That's when I interrupted him: “Sorry Craig, we are going to have to go through this when we get to Melbourne; the wind has changed I need to concentrate on the flying.” Where exactly was I? How far towards Naracoorte where we? There were no good landmarks to be seen on the ground: No sooner had I thought that than a town appeared ahead: What town was it? I glanced at the map. Just to prove me wrong this time it was obvious. It had a navaid: Bordertown: Way closer to YNRC than I was expecting. I slowed to 130 KIAS and switched the GPS on. To get close to a GS of 130Kts I had to slow to 112 Kts KIAS. The wind was increasing and swinging round. Above Naracoorte 11:31 One minute early: Turning onto heading 130 for Warnambool, predicted time 49 minutes so ETA of 12:20: The wind had swung round to 305 degrees at 25Kts a few degrees off a perfect tailwind. This time I was determined to monitor speed to keep the GS as close to 140 Kts as possible. The only way was to keep the GPS on for GS readings. Slight vegetation change as we head towards the Bass Strait: Having a real struggle to keep GS to 140 Kts. Maybe someone can explain how a 20 to 30 Kts tailwind can cause a 37 Kt differential between GS and KIAS. At one point I slowed to a KIAS of 97 yet my GS was 137 Kts. Having a battle with the throttle to keep to plan. Time flies by when you're enjoying yourself. Almost above Warrnambool: Above YWBL Now 12:20 PERFECT TIMING first time on this rally. Variation 0 ! Course change to 75 degrees. Melbourne here we come! Planned time 59 minutes so ETA 13:19 I realized I had ignored my passenger:”Sorry Craig I've been concentrating on flying. You may not realise it but you've just witnessed a momentous event.” He looked perplexed. “Perfect timing for the last leg. And sorry there's no conversation the wind is quite tricky to deal with.” Low cloud developing ahead. Landing at Moorabbin will be great fun with a 30Kt wind and low cloud! 20 Port Bay and Melbourne urban sprawl ahead, the cloud has dissipated and with a descent to 3000' the wind has eased to 5 Kts Moorabbin ahead, we are cleared to land Rwy 350L. A busy airfield from the radio chatter. A Cessna doing circuits and bumps on 350R another Mooney cleared behind us. I am maybe a bit high (I mean in altitude), but not a problem. First stage flaps down, undercarriage following: Short final and down on the numbers 13:24 Five minutes late V+5: Busy place, parking tight. Everything off. Ready for a beer.

Hope this is ok for your montage:

WEDNESDAY 31st January “Come in, take a seat.” he gestured to two seats covered in assorted papers in the cramped office. Craig, I presumed this was he; the plate on the door read: Dr. Craig Allardice. He lifted the papers from one of the chairs dumping them on an already overflowing desk. “Sorry!” “Andrew phoned warning me you might call. How can I help?” I explained the events of the last few days. “How unfortunate. A sad ending to a chequered career. It must be a decade or so since David Segfield left his academic studies. It's a small community you see, Indigenous Studies, we know each other or of each other. Andrew said you had some questions around what Segfield might have been digging for when he died.” “Yes.” I replied glancing round the walls of the office. The Doctor had a poster of the southern night sky on one wall; That's when it hit me, the Cairns! The same shape of triangle as the Triangulum Australe, a small but distinct constellation. “It just came to me!” I exclaimed, “Seeing your poster. The cairns at the site represent the Triangulum constellation. Same angles, brightest star at the apex and three stars forming the base.” “How interesting, the poster comes from an illustration used in a book by Hugh Cairns and Yidumduma Harney. “I have a copy here somewhere”. Dust billowed up from a stack of books on top of an already full bookcase. “Here you can borrow these.” he blew more dust off the volumes and handed them to me: “I'm still not sure how I can help?” Dr. Allardice stared at me questioningly. “Well, I wondered if Segfield might have come across an Aboriginal Dream that mentioned the cairns and what was buried between them?”

TUESDAY 30th. Jan 2024 13:00 It looked good and felt even better, there she stood ready to go. Get out of this place. The FBO guys had requested the keys in case they had to move her. And they had, turning her ready for departure, as if they were in a hurry to get rid of me. She was also fuelled to 85% , all I had to do was sign the credit card receipt. The inside smelt odd from the white fingerprint powder. Never mind, I would give her a good clean when I reached Parafield. Weather report: I dug out my notes from yesterday: YCDU Ceduna to YPAG Port Augusta 205 nm. @ 140Kts = 1 Hr. 28 mins. + 4 mins Climb = 1Hr. 32 mins Heading 92 Degrees. YPAG Port Augusta to YPPF Parafield 145 nm. @ 140Kts = 1 Hr. 2 mins + 4 mins descent and land = 1 Hr. 6 mins Heading 165 Degrees. Fuel 85% for both legs. Ok, wind 158@15 kts, best rwy would be 170 but it's earth. I chose rwy 110 almost as good and less chance of damage from debris. Take off 13:05 (GMT 05:05): Good riddance Ceduna. That was not really fair, it was actually quite a nice place for a gentle and beautiful holiday. It was my experience I wanted to leave behind. The wind was strong requiring constant correction to stay on course: Apart from the wind the journey was relaxingly boring. At 8000' 142 Kts. Aircraft pointing 112 degrees, real heading 100 degrees: Sooner than expected Spencer Gulf came into view, with Port Augusta at it's head: My heading had been good; Port Augusta dead ahead: Above Port Augusta, time 15:18 local time (GMT 06:18) 1hr. 18 mins, a full 19 minutes less than planned. Must have been in a hurry to put as much distance as soon as possible between me and Inspector Murray with the wind also contributing. Changing heading to 165 degrees and easing off speed. Skirting round Edinburgh air base (had I slipped into a dimensional warp and was back home?) Parafield ATC cleared me to Rwy 21R: Almost down: Down 16:37 (GMT 07:37) time 1 Hr. 19 mins target 1Hr. 6 mins. 13 mins. over. Parked up and relaxing with a sponge and bucket I scrounged from Bruce Hartwig's flying school.

TUESDAY 30th. January. 9:30 AM “Hello Sir. ScottishMike is it not?” I nodded. The Constable had picked me up at the Hotel, said I was free to leave. But first I had to go to the station to sign my statement and leave a note of my itinerary here in Australia and when I planned to leave the country if before the expiry of my visa. “Just for the record.” We sat in the interview room, the door left open this time. The Inspector gave me a copy of the statement, the original went into a folder open on the desk. “You know my itinerary; I'll be following the course of the rally. The exact timing more difficult to predict, things can get in the way of plans. I attempted a smile while gesticulating round the room.” I noticed some photos half hidden under my statement. It pricked my curiosity more than the desire to get the hell out of the place and back in the air. “Do you know what my two passengers were up to?” “We have a pretty good idea.” Was the Inspector's non committal reply. “Your “Willie Wombat” is well know to the New South Wales Police. He goes under several aliases, his birth records record him as Giorgio Bianchi, born in Sydney. “Have you picked him up?” “No Sir, not yet. Should he contact you, or you see him, contact me immediately.” Inspector Murray handed me a card with his contact details. Sun was shining in through the open door, another nice day to fly, yet the curiosity that killed the cat scratched my mouth: “Is that a photograph of the scene?” I pointed at the manilla folder on the desk. “It is.” “Do you mind if I have a look?” I should have gone, vamoosed to the airport, gunning the throttle, lifting into that blue sky, ciao baby. But no, here I was, sticking my whingeing Pom of a beak into the mire. “And why would you want to see that Sir?” “Well, all the time they were passengers they were looking for something and I still don't know what. Maybe the photo will tell me. Inspector.” “I guess it won't do any harm. You already know the location. You do know it was on the Yalata Aboriginal Reserve?” It was an aerial photo taken from maybe 30 or 40 ft. up. The body of the Prof on it's back, staring blankly up at what was a helicopter or drone. The body against the side of a freshly dug hole about six feet deep and ten in diameter. The hole itself in the centre of a triangle delineated by four stone cairns, the largest at the apex of the triangle the other three along the base, one at each corner and the fourth between them. The triangle reminded me of something, but what exactly? “Satisfied ?” “Yes thank you. Oh, one more thing. Did you get the result...” The Inspector interrupted: “The post mortem. Yes, most likely accidental death. I think we are finished here. Constable Jefferson will drive you up to the airport. Goodbye.” “Thank you Inspector. I am sorry you were not warned but Ceduna is an official stop on the rally, there will be more aircraft and their passengers dropping in in the next few days.” “I hope they choose their travelling companions with more care than you. Scottish Mike.”.

“Well sir, tell me how and when you met your passengers.” Inspector Murray was flanked by a uniformed constable. I explained about the re-creation of the 1976 air rally. “It was at an informal function held in Sydney by AOPA to celebrate the event. Many of the competitors were present as we were testing and looking at aircraft based in Sydney that might be suitable for the then finalised course. The Professor, well David Segfield as I now know him, introduced himself as Professor Perth and explained his field of study was native languages. He explained many native poems described actual landmarks so if the landmarks could be associated to a particular language and their position identified it helped define the spread of that particular language. And that he was particularly interested in the native languages of southern Australia therefore our race route was of interest.” And “Wombat Willie?” still a slight tone of derision in the Inspector's voice. “Well...” I tried to remember: “His name was not mentioned, the Prof, I mean Segfield said he had an assistant who was essential to the project. I explained they were welcome to come along, but due to the nature of the rally I would not be able to deviate from my planned route. Segfield assured me it would still be valuable for his research even if only one or two landmarks were identified.” “So you didn't meet “Wombat” at the function?” “No.” I replied “I told the Prof, I mean Segfield, they would have to make their own way to Perth if they wanted to join me. I first met Wombat Willie in Perth on the start day of the race.” “I don't suppose you have an address for Willie Wombat? Or a 'phone number?” “How long is this going to take? I've filed a flight plan for today and no, I don't have an address.” “We would appreciate you staying here in Ceduna till we get the results of the Post Mortem on David Segfield. We would also like your permission to dust the inside of the Mooney for fingerprints. We need to identify the missing Wombat Willie, if he has a record the computer will match his prints. Oh! On that subject; we will need your fingerprints for elimination purposes. We are expecting the results of the Post Mortem this evening or at the latest tomorrow. You might want to call the Foreshore and book another couple of nights.” the Inspector smiled at me coldly. “What happened to David Segfield. How did he die?” I was perplexed by the whole incident. What were the two of them up to? What had they seen from the air? “I would rather not comment till we have the post mortem results.” The Inspector replied dryly. The interview appeared over. “You are free to go, Sir. But please stay in town.” I stood up to leave. “Just one more thing: Could you outline your movements yesterday after your passengers left the aircraft?” I explained my movements as the Constable took notes. “So around three to seven P.M. yesterday you went for a walk along the shore. Can anyone vouch for that? Did you talk to anyone?” “Well no.” I had to reply. “not till I checked back into the Foreshore Hotel.” “I see.” was the detective's curt comment. I wondered what time the prof met his end. “That will be all for now. Thank you for your cooperation. Constable Jefferson will take your fingerprints on the way out then drive you up to the airport. The forensic team are waiting to dust the cabin of your plane.” The detective left and I followed the Constable. The Mooney sat motionless on the tarmac, the three men, I assumed men, difficult to tell covered as they were in white overalls, were waiting for me to unlock. The scene had an unreal almost surreal air to it:

I made my way back to the airport. The town was more animated in the morning. The air fresher despite the cloudless sky. A day of promise, like meeting a beautiful woman for the first time. I was collecting the met. report after fuelling the Mooney: Nice day, much less wind than yesterday. “Is that your aircraft Sir?” The question came from behind. A man in a lightweight summer suit. I had not seen many suits in Australia. He must have been in his forties. Solid looking if softly spoken. He pointed to the Mooney. “I'm the pilot, yes” Not the place to go into the complexities of leasing. “You are...?” I added. “Detective Inspector Murray.” he flashed a warrant card at me. “Can I help you?” perplexed at what this could be about. “You have been flying with two passengers. David Segfield and another man?” “Two passengers, yes. But not Segfield, I don't recognise that name.” “Do you mind telling me the names of your passengers, Sir?” “Professor Platypus Perth and Willie Wombat.” it suddenly struck me how silly the names were. “I see Sir.” The inspector had a look of both incredulity and amusement. I suddenly realised how incredibly naïve I had been. “Is this one of your passengers?” he showed what looked like a passport photo of the prof. “That's the Professor.” I confirmed “Platypus Perth?” the inspector repeated, almost as if it was the punch line to a joke. “Yes” “His real name is David Segfield and unfortunately he's dead.”. Well that killed the conversation as well. “I think you had best come with me to the station, we are going to need a statement from you, Sir.” The beautiful woman had aged into an evil hag in the space of a few minutes.

Cleaned the rear seats of the Prof and Willie's detritus and locked up. It felt good to be on my own again. Gathered my overnight bag and walked towards town, it was around mid day and I was hungry. The guy at the FBO had directed me to the Ceduna Foreshore Hotel. “Best in town “ he assured me, about a mile's walk.”Call you a taxi if you like mate.” he offered. “No thanks, be good to stretch my legs.” And it did feel good. Half a mile down the Eyre highway and I was in town. Ceduna seemed pleasant in a dusty quiet way. The heat not too bad, streets almost deserted; it reminded me of the song: “Mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the mid day sun...” Off the A1 highway another half mile brought me to the Foreshore Hotel/Motel and it's bistro and two bars. I checked in for the night, had a burger lunch and sat preparing flight notes for tomorrow, determined to go for a walk along the shore and pier when finished. I decided I would over fly Port Augusta and head for Parafield tomorrow. Ensuring I had plenty of fuel this time, of course. YCDU Ceduna to YPAG Port Augusta 205 nm. @ 140Kts = 1 Hr. 28 mins. + 4 mins Climb = 1Hr. 32 mins Heading 92 Degrees. YPAG Port Augusta to YPPF Parafield 145 nm. @ 140Kts = 1 Hr. 2 mins + 4 mins descent and land = 1 Hr. 6 mins Heading 165 Degrees. Fuel 85% for both legs. Happy with myself I put the paperwork in my room and headed off for the seashore.

Polishing and prepping, fuel 50%. Next stop Ceduna (YCDU). Distance 298 nm. cruise 140 Kts. So 2hrs 8 minutes + 4 mins for climb and 4 mins for descent and landing. Expected time 2 hrs. 16 mins. Weather report: Beautiful setting full moon in Forrest and passengers are here early and silent. Taxiing to rwy. Lined up and ready to go: Take off 9:03 That 13 knot crosswind catching me as soon as the wheels left the tarmac (mental note: pay attention to the forecast, don't just glance at it then forget!) Settling into the cruise; time 9:06, 3000', 140 kts, 2350 rpm, 18 HG, 14 gallons/hour. Soon be in South Australia heading for the coast: Haze developing. I wondered what weather station we were passing. It was Nullarbor Motel. I imagined the motel from Psycho with a met station in the back yard. The vis had indeed dropped from 45 Km. to 14 Km. I had noticed discrepancies before between headings Sky Vector came up with, FS9 map showed and those calculated from my maps. Sky Vector heading 103 degrees, using FS9 map heading was 110 degrees, and using my map 118 degrees. Probably as a result of different cartographic projections. I was in FS9 so took it's map and adjusted to a 110 degree heading pointing to Cape Adieu. The name reminded me of my two passengers, very quiet so far. It would have been appropriate at this point to shove them out bidding them adieu. However the bureaucracy and related paperwork involved in explaining missing persons put me off. Soon be crossing that hazy coastline: Out over the Great Australian bight. The prof and Willie both complaining that we were not following the coastline. “We don't have the fuel.” I explained “have to take the most direct route to Ceduna.” To some extent this was true, to make up time I had pushed the cruise to 155 Kts not realising how much this was impacting fuel consumption. “We're not far from the coastline”; I pointed out the window: “Far enough that we can't spot anything on the ground.” “We'll soon be back over land.” I laughed. Don't cross the pilot he holds the yoke! I thought to myself. Soon after Cape Adieu we were indeed back over land. And only a few minutes on both the Prof and Willie pointed at the ground: “There look!” Willie shouted shaking my shoulder. “Turn back and make a low pass. “No can do! Not enough fuel.” here are the co-ordinates. I told the prof adding “We are not far from Ceduna, you can come back under your own steam and explore for as long as you like.” Not realising how true my statement was, I checked the fuel, only 6% remaining. It was one of those bum twitching moments. I immediately throttled back. Consumption down to 8.1 gallons per hour, just above landing speed. Where was the airfield? It couldn't be far. I hoped dead reckoning wasn't going to prove it's name today. At least I knew we were lined up fairly well for rwy 110. Where was it? Started a gentle descent to 500 ft. from 3000ft. That would also save fuel. Finally the landing light shone in the haze, both fuel gauges at 0: Lining up for final. Ctrl Z showing 1% fuel remaining: And down safely, hoping my trousers were not filled with the smelly stuff. Time 11:12. Seven minutes early and feeling 10 years older. I hoped I had enough fuel to taxi to parking. We did, and I checked fuel: 2.4 Lbs in each tank, less than a gallon between them. Not worth gaining 7 minutes for! The only silver lining; Platypus and the Wombat had departed saying they would not be coming back.

I was up early and breakfasted. I walked to the airfield. I had made the decision; if the Prof and Willie were not at the field by 10:00 I was leaving without them. Fuelled and all checks completed I re read my notes. Caiguna next stop then Forrest. If my passengers arrived and had no objections I intended over-flying YCAG and heading straight for YFRT. I also wanted to know what they were up to. I had agreed to let them come as they seemed very keen and offered to defray expenses. Nothing had been said about any search or whatever it was they were up to. 71 degree heading for 226 nm. to Caiguna. At my cruising speed 140kts 1hr 37mins plus 4 mins to get to 3000' cruise Total time 1 hr 41 mins. Then YCAG to YFRT heading 94 degrees for190 nm. 1Hr 21 mins +4mins= 1 hr. 25 mins. 80% fuel would be plenty for both legs. 9:30 and no sign of my “guests”. Surprisingly Noresman had a weather station. I studied the report: Unusually less wind at 4,800 ft. than 2,400 ft. However I had agreed to cruise at 3000 ft., the passengers had originally asked to be close to the ground to “admire” the landscape. 9:48 and a car dropped of two figures by the apron. Willie and Platypus trudged over with their bags. “You guys mind if we overfly Caiguna on our way to Forrest?” “What if we see something we want to explore before Caiguna?” Willie replied. I addressed the Prof.: “What are you looking for? If you tell me I can help you find it.” It was annoying and possibly dangerous to have them up to something I knew nothing about. Willie stood his ground, he reminded me of the roots of a mangrove at low tide, twisted, strong and impenetrable. Not what you would expect of an assistant to a professor. “Tell you what.” the Wombat interjected: “You fly this buzz box, if we see something of interest before Caiguna, we land there and we do what we have to. If not we can fly on without landing.” “OK” I agreed . I stowed all the luggage, did a final outside check, removed the chocks and stowed them. “The Professor and I will travel in the back.” Willie Wombat announced. “As you wish. By the way, searching for something from the air is quite a science. There are several recognised search patterns. The chance of finding something flying in a straight line is almost nil.” “Just shut up and fly.” was Willies reply. I powered up and taxied to the longest best stretch of scrub. Noreseman, strange place, meteorological station but no runways. Power up: Take-off and a somewhat messy turn to 71 degrees for Caiguna: The landscape interesting at first, somewhat boring after the first twenty minutes, scrub: and more scrub, now with haze: Following the highway flanked by scrub and haze on the horizon: Not a peep out of my passangers so no landing at YCAG required. I felt a little guilty after all the effort DEFAID had put in to make the deserted place more welcoming. Sorry! Dipping down to overfly Caiguna 11:30 1 minute late: And changing heading to 57 for YFRT Forrest: A rather uneventful flight (just the way I like them.) Forrest ahead: Taxied to the hangers. Touch down 13:02 7 minutes late. Is that Viper2's helicopter hiding in the hanger?

Sparks flew into the night sky, toy meteors heading up from the fire dying against the black night. Old Binda and me. He talked slowly, silences between sentences. Not reticent more weary. I was just one more white man wanting to know what I would never understand. The prof and sour breath had set off in a hired ute almost as soon as we landed. “Checking out some formations we saw from the air.” the prof said and they disappeared in a cloud of dust. “Be at the aircraft for 10:00 tomorrow.” I shouted at the plume of dirt as it dissipated back down mostly on me and the Mooney. It was the landlady of the B&B that mentioned old Binda and how to track him down. “If it's old aboriginal stories you want he is your man. Old Binda. God knows how old he is. Doesn't know himself I'll wager.” She had cooked me a good lunch. By then it was late afternoon. I set out to find Binda. Tried the pub first, “Was here earlier. Left about an hour ago.” the barman barely glanced up from the pumps. “What you want old Binda for anyway?” he looked up. “He might know something I'm interested in.” As soon as I said it I realised it was probably the wrong thing to say. “Probably drunk by now, bought a bottle of peach brandy and left.” I followed the landladie's directions. It was getting dark. His shack, or cottage, maybe palace depending on your view, was in a clearing surrounded by Eucalyptus trees. The house was in darkness, I wandered round back. An old man's white hair topped a figure bent over a fire enclosed in a circle of stones. “Binda” I called hopefully. He turned towards me, said nothing, a solid looking branch in his hand. “Drink?” I showed my bottle bought from the pub, it reflected the firelight like a magic elixir. “Sit!” he pointed at a flattened stone by the fire circle. His brandy bottle still almost full next to his stone seat. I did as bidden. Binda sat, throwing the branch on the fire, “What you want?” dark eyes stared at me, firelight dancing through curly hair. I took a swig from my bottle and offered it to him. He took it, drank and handed it back. “What you want then?” he repeated. “Stories. Stories of places. Can you recognise places from old stories?” He stared at me, took two swigs from his brandy bottle. “Not stories. Words of our ancestors. Same words from father to son. Spirits and words mix.” He stared at the fire, sparks reflected in his eyes. “True stories, histories then?” I added, wondering if the distinction would mean anything to him. “You have maps, we have poetry. Remember the words and the spirits will guide you to the sacred places.” I wondered what places or place Willie and Platypus were looking for, and what poetry they had to guide them. Why? What were they searching for? The sky was dark. The southern constellations as clear as in a planetarium. I pointed at Hydra, drew it's main stars in the sand: “Hydra”, Binda smiled repeating his name for it, he pointed at Virgo giving me it's ancient name and drawing it's shape in the sand. I left my bottle with him “Thank you Binda, you have been of great help.”. He stood, his black eyes following me as I stepped away from the fire. “Words without ancestors will take you to dust.” he started to laugh, a deep laugh that sounded like someone drumming on an ancient dead tree. “White man, know everything, understand nothing.”.

The forecast was from the met station at Albany on the coast. I was not sure how much it differed from here 70 miles inland. From the ground the conditions looked OK with only slight haze and no surface wind. The hotel, or so it called itself, was basic but clean. Before leaving I had looked around for my passengers without success. “Long gone, mate!” the landlady answered my question. “Hired a car from Snowys' garage. Left here around seven.” she added. What the *!#! were they up to? I grabbed my rucksack and walked to the field. I would get the Mooney ready hoping they turned up soon; they knew my intention was to start each leg at 10:00. It was taped to the luggage hatch in the Professors' elegant copperplate: “Back as soon as possible. Important academic research.” The flowing script in royal blue ink. Obviously written with his fountain pen, an affectation that had annoyed me from our first meeting. The plane was prepped and now being polished to pass the time, paying extra attention to the sticky left behind from the note. The dust visible before the car appeared, I hoped it would be them. It was. I glanced at my watch 11:43. “I guess you'll be ready to go.” the prof smiled. I realized that was as much of an apology as I was going to get. “You guys need to remember we will depart each leg at 10:00 a.m. Be at the plane by 9:30 a.m. in future. OK?” I was not pleased “And don't stick anything on the aeroplane it causes damage.”. The prof walked to the car for his bag. Wombat Willie came close enough I could smell stale whisky on his breath; “The Professor has important work to do. Don't get in his way. Understand?” “What work?” I was not used to being threatened by passengers. “Never you mind.” came the sour breathed reply. I made sure everything was stowed safely. Looked at my notes: heading 71 deg. 140 kts. Time 1Hr 36 mins + 5 mins for climb out and approach to Noresman total 1 hr. 41 mins. “Both buckeled up?” I glanced at Platypus' belts, all OK. Willie grunted a yes. Taxied to the end of 070, no flaps, full power, a bit bumpy on the earth runway, 11:58 up and the bumpier the better, it suited my mood to shake the Wombat up a bit. It only took a few minutes to get to 3000' on a 71 degree heading: We settled into the cruise, Haar below, silence in the cockpit. I throttled back to 140 kts. On take off power speed had rapidly built up to 196 kts. Curiosity got the better of annoyance, I nudged prof Perth indicating the head set he had removed. He put it back on. “What are you looking for?” I asked “Distribution of native languages” was the curt reply. “From the air?” I must have sounded sceptical. “Tribal history is passed down orally, many stories concern and describe the landscape that is, or was, central to each tribe and it's language. The landmarks described are actually better spotted from the air.” It sort of explained why Willie had been tracking our progress on a map marking certain landmarks. The mist had cleared and a 20knot crosswind had developed. So why had Wombat Willie been so aggressive? The landscape below was changing, farmland giving way to scrub: The Lycoming droned on as below farmland disappeared completely. Half an hour to run: Noreseman can't be too far away, map check showed we weren't too far off course, slight correction required: Noreseman below, no defined runway just an expanse of grass, a bonus on this occasion as the approach was a bit crook: Safely down 14:31 (one hour local time difference) so 8 minutes early. Parked up next to the old billabong tree. “Willie grab the chocks in the back and fix them on the main wheels.” To my surprise he did without comment. That's when I realized I had forgotten to retract the flaps. I decided they could stay that way till tomorrow.

“Nice morning for flying” I held the current forecast in hand. Professor Perth and Wombat Willie nodded without any obvious interest or conviction. They shuffled around their bags next to the Mooney. I stowed their stuff in the luggage area behind the rear seats. “Visited the little boys room?” It was only an hours' flight but getting caught short is not pleasant and can be embarrassing. “Yes they both nodded.” “First time in a small plane?” Platypus Perth nodded, his assistant followed his lead “Yes..” he replied. We all buckled in, the Prof in the right seat, Willie behind. Cleared for taxi we held next to 060L waiting for take off clearance. I had determined 50% fuel would be plenty for all legs and unless the runway was very short no flaps were required. Clearance given we accelerated down the strip of asphalt, the Prof gripping his belt so hard I thought he might shred it. Take off at 09:57 No time to worry about my passengers I took us to 3000' heading 142 degrees. “Can I take my belt off now?” Platypus asked. “No, please keep it on all the time, it's safer if we hit turbulence.” “You said it was a nice day to fly, are you expecting turbulence?” I realized this passenger, that was covering petrol and other expenses, was very probably going to be a pain in the rear end. Still, nothing I could do about it now. I settled the craft into a steady 140 Kts. Cruise. 18 HG manifold pressure and 2400 RPM. Fuel consumption settled at 14 gallons / hour. A few minutes into the cruise the Prof took his headset off turning to Wombat Willie. They seemed to be seriously discussing something, I couldn't tell what as I had my head set on. They both referred to a sheet of notes Willie held. Then stared out at the ground below. I poked the Prof and shouted “looking for something?” “No.” he shouted back. We droned on, passengers staring intently at the ground below. Twenty minutes to run and patches of mist developing It reminded me of what in Scotland we call Haar, sea fog to others, happens when the warm air over land encounters cold air over sea (North Sea in Scotland) here probably the Southern Ocean. It can spread up to 50 miles inland. I should be able to spot Katanning by now, I had turned onto a 70 degree heading to be lined up for the runway. Finally spotted rwy 70 IT WAS NOT EASY TO SPOT! On short final: Safely down at 11:06, I had estimated an hour so should have landed at 10:57 I was 9 minutes over estimate: We parked up on the one patch of hard sun baked earth. The Prof and Wombat made for the toilets animatedly discussing something or other. Time to prepare for the next leg.

Hopefully first leg tomorrow. Living room re-decorated today so computer, peripherals and hi-fi cables all had to come apart. Major habitat loss for all the unique flora and fauna that had evolved under the desk and amongst the cables

I bit of a reconnaissance of the eastern Basil route for those with FS9 and Voz 1.8 (does it start at YSBK Bankstown or YSCH (YCFS) Coffs harbour?) YCFS Coffs Harbour: YBNA Ballina: YBCG Coolangata Gold Coast Intl.: YBBN Brisbane Intl.: YBRK Rockhampton: YBMK Mackay: Mackay makes me envious of those with sea landing capability, both the spots below are within walking distance of the airport: YBTL Townsville: And to finish at YBCS Cairns:

I agree with only having the southern B&H route timed. Was anybody intending to time the eastern (Basil) route? TomPD, I will be changing aircraft for the untimed eastern route; using the Aerostar 700 PA60: It would also be good to have a quick reminder/format of the information you need after each leg is completed. This I believe is to be sent to you (TomPenDargon) as a private message?

It's a common issue with many panels. It is a panel issue, take the TDS 737 max9 (to be topical): Actual fuel: Panel reporting 0 fuel left and right (no gauge for centre tank), but as dafaid mentions ctrl Z will give you the actual total % fuel remaining. The fuel is there and despite indicating 0 on the two fuel gauges the aircraft will happily fly on with the 62% remaining in the centre tank. Unless you have a panel that allows you to select individual tanks FS9 uses fuel from outer tanks first then working it's way to centre tanks. I guess it's a question of matching the panel to the aircraft. In the plane you mention does the panel allow you to select each of the 6 tanks individually? If the panel allows you to select ALL tanks I leave it at that, letting FS9 use fuel from outer to inner tanks. On some panels, usually general aviation craft, I hate it if they only have a right or left tank selector. I always forget to switch tanks every 5 minutes or so to keep the CG central.

Welcome from Port Augusta to Basil and his Citation. The RFDS have cleared their hanger specially for you: and welcomes all other entrants timed or free Plenty of fuel and parking space:

Basil, Port Augusta (YPAG) with VOZ 1.8:

Basil, the VOZ 1.8 Tamworth (YSTW) is not so bad:

Bombardier FS9 texture in the zip attachedChallenger 604.zip

I decided to re-install scenery I had for YPJT Jandakot. It is very nice scenery and the only reason I had removed it is it causes random building crashes. But if you remember to switch off detect crashes in the realism settings and back on after take off it's worth having. Pics below:

Hello MAD1, on long flights I tend to use increased Simulation rate. Take off, approach and landing are always at normal Simulation Rate, once in a steady climb I go to 4x speed, and once stabilised in cruise sometimes go to 16x speed.. I find increased speed is best used with autopilot. Best never go to or more importantly come out of autopilot while in increased speed, always go to normal sim speed first. Like JGF said I used to find that when coming out of increased speed the sim could take several minutes to re-adjust any active scenery. Since installing a scenery cfg editor (and only having required scenery active, not all my 1800 plus add-ons) this is not a problem, the blip only lasts a fraction of a second. What is a nuisance is FS Global Real Weather as it stops the sim every few minutes to load local weather and that can take a minute or more so if on a long haul once at cruise switch weather off and once in the descent at 4x speed switch it back on. However (apart from testing) on this rally I am going to try not using speed compression, GPS or autopilot. Only the map and dead reckoning, after all the longest leg is only 300 nms. What could possibly go wrong?

More testing, flew to Caiguna to see Defaids work and further test fuel consumption at different cruising speeds and altitudes. This country is BIG, what looks like a hop on the map is a jump of 408 nm. The Mooney can cruise fast ,170 Kts, but at the cost of reduced range, at that cruise I reckon it will have a range of only 550 to 600 nms. At 8000' a good compromise is an 140Kt. cruise, giving a range of around 750 nm. So, for this rally 50% tanks should be reasonable including a safety margin. I left Caiguna in good time but darkness fell before I got back to Perth. Heading west back to Perth and into the sunset : Perth by night:

I don't mean to be a pedant but... I have just looked at SkyVector and found the following: For timed entrants using real weather the predicted flight time for each leg will depend on the weather on the day the leg is flown so cannot be predicted before that. We all know the route we will be following, the important part is as you put it on page 1: “After each Leg is completed, each Participant will submit their Time Behind, Even, or Ahead (T) in the following Format: Name/Leg #/T Time Example: ViperPilot2/# 1/T +3 All PIREPS will be sent via Private Message to @TomPenDragon here at the FlightSim Site. Enter the PIREP in the Subject Line of the Private Message.” What I am saying is: Do we have to submit a SkyVector plan by Monday 8th. January?