It was overcast and drizzling a bit as we prepared to take off from Reykjavik, Iceland, this morning. Seconds after we took off, however, sunlight flooded through a hole in the clouds and first bathed some buildings across a bay from the airport, and then flooded a green valley that turned out to be a golf course. The clouds were not thick and we quickly popped out into a gorgeous sunrise. I was glad my sunglasses were within reach.
When we leave the Icelandic coast behind, we’re crusing at FL250 (about 25,000 feet) above the cloud-covered Atlantic. The winds are blowing at 86 knots at our altitude, but they’re generally perpendicular to our route of flight, and we’re actually getting a pretty good tailwind on this leg. A push is always nice; we can go faster or reduce power to save fuel. Today we’ve reduced power, and we’re still covering the ground at 338 knots–at least for a while. Mike takes advantage of the relatively quiet overwater flight to get his charts in order for the next couple of legs. Even with electronic navigation and international databases, paper charts still come in handy.
Passing RATSU intersection, we’re handed off to Scottish Control, and lose a lot of groundspeed when we make a turn on our flight plan. Our true airspeed is 280 knots, and after the turn our tailwind drops to 20 knots–so our groundspeed only falls to 300 knots. The ride gets bumpy for the first time this trip as we cross a jet stream but the turbulence lasts less than half an hour. We wouldn’t know we were flying over Scotland this morning if it wasn’t for the moving maps on our navigation displays. The country is blanketed by clouds. Eventually a mountain peak juts through the low clouds, providing visual confirmation that there’s land down there. The accent and cadence of the Scottish air traffic controllers is my favorite of the trip so far. Other notable changes with respect to air traffic control: Frequencies are assigned as “One Two Seven Decimal Two Eight,” instead of “Point” which usually is said in the United States, and controllers are much more likely to use the “proper” phonetic pronounciation–by saying “tree” for “three” and “fife” for “five,” for example.
The clouds break up as we approach England, however, and the English countryside looks positively quaint as we descend through several broken layers en route to our fuel stop in Newcastle. A great couple of blokes take care of us at Samson Aviation Services, and our fueler, Martin, is a pilot. The airport has a uniquely modern air traffic control tower, and the Newcastle College flight program appeared to be keeping its modest fleet of Piper trainers busy. The first leg takes 3.1 hours and we’re on the ground less than an hour, never leaving the airport, although we did see two double-decker buses pass just beyond the end of the runway as we backtaxied to depart from Runway 25.
From there it’s 2.7 hours through the busiest airspace yet on our way to Straubing, Germany. Our route takes us across the North Sea into the Netherlands, just east of Amsterdam. ATC uses 8.33-mHz frequency spacing here, which can be a trap–it’s one more numeral that might be misidentified by a pilot listening to a foreign tongue, or a readback that could be misunderstood by a controller facing the same challenge. We arrive in time to stop in at MT Propeller, where we’ll spend part of the day tomorrow, and enjoy a traditional Bavarian dinner in the historic city (I recommend the Octoberfest). Many of its buildings are 900 years old, or even older; our restaurant is one of the newer ones–it’s only 700 years old.