Mist was forecast for the morning of our departure so in a flash of brilliance we decided to fly our gyroplanes from Durbanville to Diemerskraal airfield just outside Wellington the day before. "It never gets misty there" said Paul, "and we'll be able to leave bright and early tomorrow."
So, as with all good plans, on the morning of our scheduled departure, we stood on the runway at Wellington and peered into the thick white mist enveloping us. Nothing to do but wait, recheck waypoints (got to love Easyplan!) eat Diemerskraals delicious naartjies for 3 hours, redo flight checks and quaff down cups of coffee until finally the fog lifted and we took off into the crystal clear sky which had been hiding above us. Once airborne we immediately started climbing towards the mountains behind Wellington. At 6500 feet with the mountain-tops dropping away below us, we crossed high over Wolsely and Ceres, guiding our gyros through the crisp, still air, passing over rugged crags and orchard-lined valleys below. Keeping an eye the Ceres – Calvinia road winding through the hills below us, we started our descent for the airfield at Inverdoorn Private Nature Reserve (www.inverdoorn.com), circling in one behind the other to line up for the gravel runway. Inverdoorn boasts 10 000 hectares of pristine Karoo wilderness area, with luxury accommodation and game drives offering guests the opportunity to watch various animal species including buffalo and rhino! It’s definitely a recommended getaway spot – within easy driving (or flying!) distance of Cape Town, but with rates starting at R1200 per night p/p (includes dinner bed, breakfast and a game drive) an overnight stay may have to wait for that really special occasion!
Too soon it was time for us to be on our way again, and after a quick leg stretch and chat with the friendly staff, we proceeded to refuel our main tanks from our fuel cans before taking to the sky again like overgrown, noisy dragonflies.
The Karoo landscape continued to unfold beneath us as we flew towards Sutherland, crossing the Tankwa River and numerous other meandering riverbeds and the occasional farmstead dotted with blue-gum trees and the ubiquitous Climax windmill. Passing to the South-East of Sutherland, after some 2.5 hours of flying, Paul informed us that the farm lay just ahead! Jonathan and Louis peeled off to recce the airstrip while Paul and I did a quick aerial tour of the farm with its karoo-scrub and flat grass plains set against a backdrop of towering koppies and richly vegetated kloofs, home to kudu, rooikat, jackal and no doubt an elusive leopard or two.
My dreamlike flight over the koppies was interrupted by Jonathans report over the radio of a somewhat tricky crosswind landing on the rough gravel airstrip. Methodically I run through my pre-landing checks – undercarriage, brakes, fuel pumps on, gauges, pressures and temperatures all fine! I decide to do a precautionary inspection of the runway first, allowing myself the opportunity to gauge the severity of the crosswind before committing myself. Cyclic into the wind, lots of opposite rudder, my Magni responds beautifully and I find myself perfectly lined up on the runway thinking, "It ain't going to get any better than this!" Easing off the throttle with the nose dipped to keep some airflow over the tail-plane for rudder authority I drift down and flare to a short, neat stop. I breathe a little sigh of relief. I'm the newbie on this trip and crosswind landings can be tricky at best of times - so I’m thankful for the uneventful touchdown! Then it was Paul’s turn. With Louis, Jonathan and I watching, the wind dies away completely. “We should have waited…†quips Jonathan, but before the words hardly leave his lips, another gust suddenly whips across us, catching Paul just as his back wheels kiss the ground. With an experienced hand he quickly counteracts the effects of the squall and lifts off again, this time anticipating the gusting cross-wind and deftly settles his Magni gyro squarely down on the runway.
Dirk, the farm manager, is still busy running some errands, so we finish parking the gyros and unpack our few items. If there’s one thing about doing cross-country flights in a gyro, it’s that you learn to travel light. Storage space really is at a bare minimum.
We prepare some snacks whilst waiting, savouring the wide open spaces of the Karoo and I marvel at the fact that with these aircraft, one can literally just drop in out of the sky, and land virtually in the middle of nowhere. Before long, Dirk arrives and we clamber into the back of the bakkie and head off towards the farmhouse where we dump our bags. Paul takes us for a walk around the farmstead and down along the course of a dry riverbed. Interestingly, just a few metres on, fringed amongst a thicket of acacia tress, a river springs to life, the clear stream of water trickling out from the base of a rocky shelf. Amazed by this artesian well I try to imagine all the different types of animals and people who, over thousands of years, have come to slake their thirst at this little sparkling river of life. Perhaps even Bushmen once filled their ostrich-egg shells with this precious water, long before the dusty arrival of ox-wagons and hardy Voortrekkers who no doubt christened it “Grootfonteinâ€Â.
Sitting in the cool of the stoep at the farmhouse, we unwind from the day’s flying and do absolutely no justice to an excellent bottle of Eagles Nest Shiraz, drinking it out of tin mugs whilst Louis, who is a consummate raconteur, keeps us highly entertained with anecdotes and accounts of his flying escapades over the years! Dirk gets the fire going and we sit under a myriad of stars as thick cuts of rump steak, Karoo lamb chops and kudu boerewors hiss and fizzle over the hot coals. With our plates clean, it’s not long before I find myself curled up in bed, quickly falling asleep to the sounds of crickets and the rhythmic beat of a Lister generator as it chugs away in the distance.
The next morning as the sun creeps over the koppies in the East, I pour myself a steaming mug of coffee from the kettle perched on top of the still-working, original cast-iron “Welcome Dover†stove warming the farmhouse kitchen. Initial weather reports gloomily predict clouds and rain over the Cape as a cold front moves through. We decide to wait it out, and it’s not too long before a round of telephone calls heralds the good news that the weather is clearing. It’s time to bid farewells to our hosts. With our gyroplanes packed and refuelled we nose our aircraft into the gentle headwind now perfectly aligned on the airstrip. Soon we are all airborne and following Louis’ RAF as he climbs into the cool morning air.
As our gaggle of gyrocopters beat their way along at more than 6000ft, I’m pleased that I remembered to pack my flying gloves. Although it’s warmer below, closer to the ground, the incredible endless views of the Karoo from this altitude dissuades me from descending lower to join the others. The sensation of flying an open cockpit aircraft high above this expansive veld, with views from horizon to horizon, is to me, simply unbeatable.
Passing overhead the Karoo Poort and Theronsberg Pass, I descend down into the fertile Ceres valley ahead of the others and turn towards my friend Robert’s farm near Prince Alfred Hamlet. His impressive fruit pack-shed makes for an easy reference point and we exchange waves as I buzz overhead. I set course for the Ceres airfield and touch-down shortly behind the others on the smooth grass and gravel strip.
Jonathan digs out his liquid-fuel hiking stove to boil us some water for coffee, however after a few priming pumps to get the pressure up, it seems to have developed a rather alarming fuel leak. Undeterred he keeps it going and whilst I respect the fact that he once worked as a rocket scientist or something at Denel, I discreetly shuffle a safe distance away. Moments later he is stamping out a small puddle of flames and I silently thank Paul for joking earlier about not letting Jonathan use my planes tail-stab as a makeshift table. By all accounts, Jonathans camping stove had already earned itself a dubious reputation on previous trips before its final and fiery demise on this one!
Our last leg sees us doing a steep climb out of the Ceres Valley, up over the old ruins of the Toll House perched atop of Michells Pass (which was completed in 1848), and back towards Wolsely. As I crest the last mountain peak, the whole Cape Peninsula bursts into view in front of me. I spot Jonathan’s Magni emerging out of the Bains Kloof Pass to my left, and I follow him down into the Wellington Valley where we radio our farewells to Louis as he prepares to land at Diemerskraal. With the sun setting over the Atlantic ocean and our trip nearly complete, the rest of us fly on over vineyards and wheat fields before safely landing back at our respective “homes†at Goedverwacht and Morningstar. A perfect finale to a fantastic flying adventure!
Checking routes whilst waiting for the mist to clear.
Gyros at Inverdoorn
Jonathan sharing a joke with the friendly Inverdoorn staff.
Arriving overhead the farm near Merweville with the other gyros just visible on the ground.
Magni's in the veld.
The farm strip.
Dave catching 40 winks whilst waiting for the bakkie.
Louis and Jonathan relaxing after the flight.
Jonathan prepares some lunch in Ceres.
The very dodgy camping stove starts to spit flame...
The beautiful Ceres valley is saved from a raging inferno! Ok it wasn't really that bad. And we did get coffee in the end!
you'd think in this day and age they'd have figured a straightforward pic upload sustym! 
